Part 38 (1/2)
”So?” His eyes were on Adele, who was checking out the shelves up and down the narrow aisles, lifting things up and putting them down. ”Listen, don't mess with that stuff, okay? It's all in the right order.”
”I can see that,” Adele said. She continued poking and s.h.i.+fting. ”Power tools, electronics, very nice.”
”Gotta do a complete f.u.c.king inventory.”
”Tell me about it,” Adele said. ”I'm doing the same thing myself.”
”Pain in the a.s.s.”
”Got that right.” Adele moved out of sight.
”Thirsty work,” Stacy said. She picked up the empty coffee cup. ”You deserve a drink, don't you think?”
”My girlfriend's trying to get me to cut back,” he said.
”Yeah, that's probably a good idea.” She put the brown paper LCBO sack on the countertop. ”Your mother died eleven years ago? Is that right?”
”So?” His eyes were on the paper bag.
”So I'm wondering, if her marriage to Louie Grova was the only connection, why'd you stick around all these years?”
”Hey, I work here, I earn my keep. I drive the van, I pick up the furniture and tools and heavy s.h.i.+t and hump it in. I clean and repair and make sure things work. He didn't do s.h.i.+t except count his money. Sit behind here like a fat slug all day s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g people out of their nickels and dimes. Get a few bucks out of him like getting the last pickle out of the jar.”
”But it's all yours now. You're his only relative.”
”Sure it's mine. Can I open the store? No. Can I sell anything? No. Can I start unloading all this c.r.a.p? No f.u.c.king way. Gotta wait for the courts and the cops and the tax man and everybody else who wants to f.u.c.k me over so they can come here and stick in their noses and count up how much they want.”
Adele's voice had an echo now, she was at the far end. ”Should be a nice profit though, once the legal bulls.h.i.+t gets straightened out.”
”I'll try and live that long.”
”Y'know Mr. Kamen, it's possible we can speed up the process for you.” Stacy took a small bottle of rye and a can of ginger ale out of the paper bag. ”Got any gla.s.ses?”
He waved at a shelf of crockery and crystal. ”Take your pick.”
Stacy chose a gla.s.s then pulled a Kleenex from the box on the counter and wiped the rim. ”This is probably a difficult time for you. We're not after you for anything.” He watched her unscrew the cap. She deliberately took her time. ”We're just trying to figure out a few things that your father may have had knowledge of.” She poured a double and handed him the gla.s.s. ”Ginger ale?”
He drank it straight down, one gulp, took a deep breath through his nose. ”Next round,” he said.
She poured again. This time she added mixer. ”And we've pretty much run out of people who were involved, or who knew any of the people who were.”
He snorted. ”That's because they're all dead, right?” This time he drank more slowly, enjoying the taste and the glow.
”Many of them are, yes.”
”I'm not stupid. I stayed far the f.u.c.k away from those deals.”
”What deals?”
”Whatever illegal s.h.i.+t he had going.” He had another swallow, waved a hand. ”He was into.”
”You lived with him for how long?”
”Altogether, I don't know, twenty years.”
”Twenty-two,” said Stacy.
”Whatever. Working my a.s.s off. In the store, picking up consignments, organizing. Keeping books.”
”Seems to me in all that time you probably overheard a few things,” Stacy said, ”maybe met some people, casually, people who dropped by to see your stepfather.”
”Yeah. Tell me to get lost. Wanted me out of the way for a while maybe, slip me a few bucks and say, 'Go to the movies.' Cheap b.a.s.t.a.r.d.”
”Even so, smart guy like you, over twenty-two years you probably saw and heard a lot. Maybe some stuff you don't remember. Maybe some stuff you didn't one hundred percent understand.”
”Oh I f.u.c.king understood all right. I understood Louie was a sneaky piece of s.h.i.+t.”
”And you probably saw him with some people.” Stacy located the right image on her digital camera and handed it to him. ”Like this man, Sergei Siziva.”
Darryl looked at the face. ”Sir Gay Sissyboy. Sure. Showed up once in a while. Wouldn't sit down in case he got his fancy coat messed up. Usually with some fat p.r.i.c.k to watch his back.”
”Oho! What have we here?” Adele sounded triumphant. She emerged from the darkness holding something by the tips of her thumb and finger. ”Hey there Darryl, know what this is?”
”I haven't sorted that end yet.”
”That's good news,” Adele said. ”Your fingerprints might not be all over it.”
”Is it . . . ?” Stacy started.
”Oh yeah. It's a Jordan spring clip holster.”
”I thought we already had his.” Stacy opened the top of the LCBO bag.
”Beats me. Got an initial on the back. 'D.'” She dropped it in the bag. ”Any idea where this came from, Darryl?”
”Christ, who knows? Louie the pack rat. Stuff in here from before Jesus.”
”Maybe it came from one of these guys.” Adele pulled out her brown envelope. It was getting ragged around the edges.
Darryl had a brief glance, pushed it away. ”What about them?”
”You know either one of them?”
”Not especially.”
”Not 'especially.' What does that mean, exactly?”
This time he helped himself to a drink. ”Because this is like the main guy I stayed away from, know what I'm sayin'? Whenever he showed up, I made myself scarce.”
”Which one?”