Part 64 (1/2)

Bubba nodded.

”Move it into a s.p.a.ce, or I'll ticket it.”

”Fine.” Bubba turned back to me.

”Now, Rogowski,” the cop said.

Bubba gave me a bitter smile and shook his head. Then he walked out past the cruiser and climbed in the Hummer as the cops watched with wide, satisfied grins. Bubba pulled forward and found a spot large enough to accommodate him about a hundred yards down the avenue.

”You know your friend's a sc.u.mbag?” the cop asked me.

I shrugged.

”That could make you a sc.u.mbag by a.s.sociation if you're not careful.”

I recognized the cop now. Mike Gourgouras, allegedly a bagman for Stevie Zambuca, Stevie sending him by to make sure the message sank in.

”Might wanna consider distancing yourself from a guy like that.”

”Okay.” I held up a hand, smiled. ”Good advice.”

Gourgouras narrowed his small dark eyes at me. ”You busting my b.a.l.l.s?”

”No, sir.”

He gave me a smile. ”Be careful in your choices, Mr. Kenzie.” His window rolled up with a whir and then the cruiser pulled down the avenue, beeped once at Bubba as he walked back down the sidewalk toward me, then turned the corner.

”Stevie's boys,” Bubba said.

”You noticed?”

”Yeah.”

”You calm?”

He shrugged. ”I'm getting there, maybe.”

”All right,” I said. ”How do we get Stevie off our a.s.s?”

”Angie.”

”She's not going to like calling in that marker.”

”She has no choice.”

”How do you figure?”

”With us dead, you know how boring her life would be? s.h.i.+t, man, she'd about shrivel up and die.”