envelopes had taken the place of the garment bags. She opened one of the envelopes, the thinnest of the three, counted out three thousand in C-notes, folded that Chicago roll in half, handed it to me, stuffed the other envelopes in her purse like it was no big deal.
I said, “You said two.”
“Honest. I like that. Let’s just say I tip well.”
She asked about Freeman. Wanted to know where they were staying.
I told her they were crashing at Shutters. I think she already knew that, but I didn’t put that question out there. It was my turn to do the gamming, so she chilled and let me talk. I told her about security, that Sade had come back to the bar by herself. That must’ve been when Arizona was on the phone with Freeman. Told her that it didn’t seem like him and Sade were on good terms, but the love was there, just didn’t know what that love was based on.
She asked, “What do you mean, based on?”
“Different kinds of love. Could be amative.”
“Amative?”
“You know, physical, a sexual thang, that kinda love.”
“Do men love any other way?”
I knew I’d never win that argument. I changed the subject, asked what else she had going on, just in case this Freeman shit was a bust. She said that one of the things she had done over the years and was good at was counterfeiting credit cards, knew all about a card’s magnetic strips.
I asked, “You doing that at the play?”
“We have credit card readers in a few places around the city.”
She fired up a smoke. I asked her how that credit card scam worked and she changed again, smiled and turned all pro, started sounding like Professor Grifter.
I said, “I heard equipment for that kinda operation was expensive.”
“It is.” She dropped her cigarette, let it burn and scent the stale air. “Not hard to get on the open market. Embossing machines cost. Silk-screening equipment doesn’t cost as much.”
“Thought you were into real estate.”
“I’m into more things than you’ll ever know. I learned managerial skills from the best.”
She was smart, but I’d met smarter people on the other side of The Wall.
I checked my watch again, felt like a clock was over my head counting down, its glow in red neon. It had been a long night and a longer day. Sleep was looking for me and I was avoiding it like the plague. I gave in to a yawn, moved the conversation back to the task at hand.
I asked, “If you can pull down this much cash, why bother with Freeman?”
With a crooked little smile she said, “Because jacking a book has never been done.”
“All fun and games for you.” “What can I say? I love my job. Would be nice to do something ... different ... creative.”
I understood, told her that with a simple nod. “You’re a trendsetter.”
“Always looking for new opportunities.”
“When did you get that idea? To jack a book for bucks?”
“Last summer I saw this thing on the news. I was in North Carolina, working a nice little grift back that way. John Grisham was getting paid seventy-five thousand to come to a library. From the time his plane landed to the time it took off, he was in North Carolina for three hours. Seventy-five thousand. I thought, what if somebody jacked his next book.”
“Damn. But you couldn’t get to the Grish.”
“He didn’t look like the type. Then I saw Freeman on C-SPAN, bragging about his big payday. The perfect mark. So full of himself. So arrogant. Did some research online.”
“God bless the Internet.”
“A grifter’s toolbox. Anyway, stumbled across something unrelated. Years ago Toni Morrison’s house burned down or something. She lost a manuscript. The article talked about the unpublished manuscript, and of course how millions of dollars in literature had gone up in flames. The part that stuck with me was how, even if she started over, she’d never be able to reproduce what she had, not the way it was. It couldn’t be duplicated, was irreplaceable.”
“I’m on the same page with you. You jack it, it can’t be replaced. So it’s worth a mint.”
“I went to a few writers’ Web pages. Freeman’s Web page was somewhere in the middle of the list, shot him an e-mail, he responded within two hours.”
“Just like that.”
“Surprised me too.”
“You send Bobblehead a picture with the e-mail?”
“Of course.”
“I’m not gonna ask what kind of picture you sent.”