Part 46 (2/2)
Paulo reclaimed his crowbar from his brother and walked across to Ketcham. He extended the crowbar to Ketcham's groin, gently touching both his p.e.n.i.s and his s.c.r.o.t.u.m with it.
”Oh, Jesus Christ!” Ketcham said.
”Okay. Now we'll talk,” Paulo said. ”Tell me about drugs.”
”What drugs?” Ketcham responded, sounding genuinely confused.
Ca.s.sandro's crowbar touched Ketcham's s.c.r.o.t.u.m and p.e.n.i.s again, somewhat less gently.
”Tell me what you want to know, and I'll tell you,” Ketcham said, sounding desperately determined to be agreeable.
”You know f.u.c.king well what I want to know,” Paulo said. ”I want to hear it from you.”
There was a long pause.
”I swear to G.o.d,” Ketcham finally said, ”that I had nothing to do with the cops being there.”
”Bulls.h.i.+t,” Ca.s.sandro replied.
”I swear to G.o.d,” Ketcham repeated. ”They must have followed, been following, Williams.”
”Bulls.h.i.+t,” Paulo repeated.
Mr. Savarese held up his hand to signal the conversation should be interrupted. Paulo went to Mr. Savarese, who, very softly, asked, ”Williams?”
”I think a dinge drug dealer. I'll make sure,” Paulo whispered in Mr. Savarese's ear.
”I had no reason to go to the cops,” Ketcham said.
”But you would turn in a drug dealer like Amos Williams to save your miserable a.s.s, wouldn't you?” Paulo asked reasonably.
”I didn't turn him in. I swear to G.o.d, I didn't. We had a long-standing business relations.h.i.+p.”
”So you tell me what happened, then.”
”I don't know. All of a sudden, there's cops all over the motel.”
”Why do you think that was?”
”I swear to G.o.d, I don't know. Except they must have been following Williams.”
”What was the name of this motel?”
”You don't know?” Ketcham blurted.
Paulo picked up Ketcham's s.c.r.o.t.u.m with his crowbar.
”I ask, you talk,” he said.
”The Howard Johnson on Roosevelt Boulevard,” Ketcham said quickly.
”Maybe your girlfriend turned you both in, is that what you're saying?”
”No. Christ no! She didn't even know what was going on.”
”She was there with you, wasn't she?”
”She didn't even go in the motel. She waited outside in the car.”
”You expect me to believe your lady didn't even know what the f.u.c.k you were doing?”
”She didn't,” Ketcham said firmly.
”Right. Like she don't use s.h.i.+t herself, right?”
”She doesn't. I mean, every once in a while, a couple of lines, but she's not addicted.”
”Bulls.h.i.+t!”
”She doesn't. She's a nice girl, from a good family.”
”Who does a couple of lines every once in a while, right, and goes with you to meet with this drug dealer? Bulls.h.i.+t.”
”It's the truth, so help me G.o.d!”
”Maybe we're talking about two different people,” Paulo said. ”What's this lady's name?”
”Cynthia Longwood,” Ketcham said.
Paulo turned to look at Mr. Savarese, who was sadly shaking his head from side to side.
”If she was waiting outside in the car, and didn't set you and the dealer up with the cops, then what's she so upset about?”
”Why do you think?” Ketcham blurted.
This earned him a short but painful jab in the s.c.r.o.t.u.m, which caused him first to double over in agony, then fall backward into a sitting position on the floor. Paulo then kicked Ketcham in the head.
”Answer the f.u.c.king question, motherf.u.c.ker!”
”What the h.e.l.l was I supposed to do?” Ketcham said.
”The cop had just ripped me off of twenty thousand dollars, and I was handcuffed to the toilet. You think I liked what the cop did to her?”
”What cop? Did he have a name?”
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