wanted Jessop gone he could have just hired a shooter. I went along like that made sense, but all the time, I was thinking, That story Solly told me about this guy Rico, the contract man. Maybe he made that up?
Why I thought that was I didn’t believe Solly could find a shooter without going outside his safe zone. He put jobs together. Jobs, not hits.
If I started nosing around, this Jessop would know I was coming way before I got to him. How was that supposed to help Solly? He knew I was good at some stuff, but I wasn’t any secret agent. Chances are, I go down to Florida, where this Albie used to live, Jessop makes me disappear.
Yeah. That was Solly, down pat. Let other guys bet on fights, Solly wouldn’t care who won; he’d be the guy keeping the vig. Maybe Jessop fucks up. Gets me done, but not so smooth. A murder, he couldn’t really say it was self-defense without bringing up the jewelry job. That’d probably only make it worse for him. Florida, it’s not like New York. We got the death penalty, too, but down there, they use it.
Anyway, the only one Jessop could give up was me, and what could that be worth? He never laid eyes on Solly; and Albie was dead.
How come, all of a sudden, Solly was going to a lot of trouble to make sure I knew stuff? Much more than he ever did before. Was he trusting me or setting me up?
I remembered one thing Solly said to me, a long time ago. “It’s not how much you take, kid, it’s where you take it from. Me, I always take my half out of the middle.”
Even with my head hurting, one thing came through clear: I go down to Florida looking for Jessop, the only sure winner would be Solly.
It was so cute: I find Jessop, only one of us walks away. Wouldn’t matter which one; Solly could always find Big Matt. Tell him a story about whichever one of us was still alive.
Somewhere, way in the back of my mind, I thought Solly would be proud of me. For not trusting him, I mean.
Even without Solly’s game, I had a stronger reason for not going to Florida right away.
“Woods,” is the way he answered when he picked up the extension. I don’t know how cops usually answer the phone, but that didn’t sound like it.
“You were straight with me once,” I said into the mouthpiece. “I never forgot that. And I figure now, maybe you and me, we want the same thing.”
“Who the—? Wait! Are we talking about someone who went down for something he didn’t do, and skated on one he did?”
“Just the first part is right,” I said—who admits something over the phone? “I want the guy whose time I did. And you want him, too.”
“You got that right,” Woods said. Cold and serious.
“I’m not coming in,” I told him.
“Say where and when.”
“Now. There’s a vitamin shop, northwest corner of Eighty-first and Broadway.”
“I’m rolling.”
I didn’t bother telling the cop not to bring backup or wear a wire or any of that crap. I wasn’t a wanted man. And Woods, he hadn’t told me to call the Sex Crimes Unit. Which meant they’d never caught the real rapist. Probably never even looked for him.
Woods must have circled the block a couple of times, because I spotted him on the other side of Broadway, getting ready to cross at the light. I liked that. He didn’t badge some guy to let him park at the curb, or leave his unmarked at a fireplug. He did what a regular person would do.
Hard for a guy as big as him to be low-key. Last thing he’d want, call attention to himself. And if you saw him once, you’d remember him.
“Did every day of it, huh?” was what he said. No “hello” or nothing. But he had his hand out, and I shook it.
“Let’s take a walk,” I said. “Riverside’s not far, and it’s a beautiful day.”
He knew what I meant. We walked side by side a few blocks west until we came to Riverside, found an empty bench.
“Is it okay if I make sure of a couple of things, before I say anything?”
The cop opened his coat. “Got an ankle piece, too,” he said, like that was what I wanted, check him for weapons. I couldn’t figure out why he was playing it like that, but I let