Part 21 (1/2)
”Okay,” I said. ”In case you haven't figured it out, you two are screwed. I saw you grab the computers, but I'm sure you left something behind in the house that'll tie you to all the wonderful fraud and ident.i.ty theft you've been up to. Not to mention the meth dust in the microwave. I'm only half as smart as most cops at this, so let's a.s.sume they'll have you two charged by midday and will be out on the prowl with no-knock warrants by dinnertime.”
”You're such a bad bluffer.” Helene lit a cigarette.
”You think?” I reached over the backrest, took the cigarette out of her mouth and flicked it out the window past Kenny's face. ”I got a four-year-old, you moron. She rides in this car.”
”So?”
”So, I don't want her going to the playground smelling like a Newport.”
”Touchy, touchy.”
I held out my hand to her.
”What?”
”Gimme the pack.”
”n.i.g.g.e.r, please.”
”Gimme the pack,” I repeated.
Kenny sounded weary. ”Give it to him, Helene.”
She handed over the pack. I slid it into my pocket.
”So,” Kenny said, ”you got a solution for us?”
”I dunno. Tell me what Kirill Borzakov wants with Amanda.”
”Who said he wants Amanda?”
”Yefim did.”
”Oh, right.”
”So what's Amanda got that they could want?”
”She ripped a load, took it on the run with her.”
I made the sound of an NBA buzzer when the shot clock runs out. ”Bulls.h.i.+t.”
”No, he's serious.” Helene, all wide-eyed.
”Get out of my car.”
”No, listen.”
I reached across Kenny and pushed his door open. ”See ya.”
”No, really.”
”Really. We've got less than two days to trade whatever Amanda's got for Sophie. Now I know you don't give a s.h.i.+t about the life of a teenage girl, but I'm kind of a dinosaur that way, and I do.”
”So go to the police.”
I nodded as if that made perfect sense. ”Testify in open court against the Russian mob.” I scratched my chin. ”By the time it's safe for my daughter to leave Witness Protection, she'll be fifty-f.u.c.king-five.” I looked at Kenny. ”No one's going to the cops.”
”Can I have my cigarettes back?” Helene said. ”Please.”
”You going to smoke in my ride?”
”I'll open the door.”
I tossed them back over the seat to her.
”So where's this leave us?” Kenny said.
”What I said-we need to make a trade. The more you two d.i.c.k me around on what exactly it is they want from Amanda, the less chance Sophie will be in anything less than three or four pieces by the time Friday rolls around.”
”And we told you,” Kenny said, ”Amanda ripped off their-”
”It's a piece of f.u.c.king jewelry,” Helene said. She opened the back door wide and placed one foot on the ground as she lit her cigarette. She blew the smoke out past the door and gave me a look like Satisfied? Satisfied?
”Jewelry.”
She nodded as Kenny closed his eyes and rested his head against the seat. ”Yeah. Don't ask me what it looks like or how she got it, but she stole this, what, crucifix?”
”Well, it's not a crucifix,” Kenny said. ” 'Least I don't think so. They keep calling it a 'cross.' ” He shrugged. ”That's all we know.”
”And you don't know how this cross got into her possession?”
Another head shake. ”Nope.”
”So you have no idea how Amanda might have had the opportunity to put her hands on this cross, or why she was hanging out with the Russian mob. Is that what you're selling?”
”We don't smother her,” Helene said.
”What?”
”Amanda,” Helene said. ”We let her make her own decisions. We're not up her a.s.s all the time. We show her respect as a person.”
I looked out the car window for a bit.
After the silence went on a bit too long, Helene said, ”What're you thinking?”
I looked over the seat at her. ”I'm thinking how I've never had the impulse to hit a woman in my life, but you get me in an Ike Turner frame of mind.”
She flicked her cigarette into the parking lot. ”Like I haven't heard that before.”