Dirty Money (14 page)

“Whoa, dude.” I leaned close enough to one of his friends for him to smell the booze on my breath. “That’s the coolest tiepin I’ve ever seen.” I peered at the hideous jewel encrusted skull and crossbones in the center of his tie.

They laughed, taking amusement in the drunk kid.

“Junior, you all right?” the guy with the tiepin asked.

“What? Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” I leaned against the side of the boat. “Just having a good time.”

“You alone?”

“I guess. Wanted to play poker, you know?” I turned out my pants pockets, which were empty, then checked my jacket pockets. “But my girlfriend, I think she’s got my invite to the game.” From the inside of my jacket, I dug out a wad of cash and sorted through like I was searching for something. Their eyes got wide at my collection of bills. I couldn’t believe they were falling for this shit. Esau was right; these guys were gonna be easy. “She got all mad ’cause she said I was drunk, so she left. And damn it, she totally took the invite. What a bitch, huh?” I stuffed the cash back in my jacket and moved on to checking my back pockets.

“Chicks.” Caruso laughed and downed half his drink.

“Yeah, fuck ’em.” I finished my scotch. “And I’m totally not even drunk, by the way.”

They nodded. Liars.

“We’re, uh, going to another game later,” Tiepin informed me. “If you wanna come?”

“Nuh-uh. For real?” He smiled all predatory. Did they think anyone was this stupid? “That’s totally cool of you guys. Hey, I’m gonna get another drink. Anyone want?”

“Sure, kid.” Caruso handed me his now empty glass.

“Scotch for me,” the third guy finally spoke. He was about three times the size of Caruso and Tiepin combined. When he talked, his sixth chin wobbled. Wrong.

“Man, you guys are like really cool,” I let them know as I walked away.

At the bar, I watched the bartender pour the rum and Coke. While he busied himself with the scotches, I dropped a small pill into the dark liquid in Caruso’s glass. It sank to the bottom, fizzing in the Coke. By the time I got back to the group, it was dissolved.

“Here.” I juggled drinks to hand them over. “So you guys, like, serious about the game?”

“Yeah.” Tiepin nodded at his buddies. “Why not?”

“That’s chill.” I grinned like a dumbass and chugged some more booze.

It didn’t take long for the drug I’d slipped Caruso to take effect. They were all drunk, so when he started tilting to one side and leaning heavily on his friend, they didn’t seem to notice the difference.

“I think we should probably go,” Chunk spoke up again and twitched his head toward Caruso.

“Yeah. Poker time, man.” I nodded like an idiot. Finally. Caruso was going to pass out in a few minutes. I wanted to be off the boat by then.

Caruso’s friends seemed only slightly stunned at how dumb I was.

It took some serious maneuvering to get everyone off the boat, down the dock, and to the parking lot. Caruso had apparently lost the ability to put one foot in front of the other.

“Your bro is losing it, dude,” I said.

“Yeah, I’ll get the car,” Chunk offered. “You guys wait here.”

That worked for me. Only one guy to get rid of. The second Chunk disappeared down a row of cars, Esau pulled up. He got out, opened the trunk, and came straight for us.

“What the fuck?” Tiepin asked before Esau dropped him with a single punch.

“I told you I wanted him alone,” Esau said as we tossed Caruso, now unconscious, in the trunk.

“Yeah, well, he’s got friends.” I slammed the trunk. It hit Caruso’s feet. I shoved them in and tried again. “Just be happy it wasn’t the big dude.”

“Get in the car.”

Damn, Esau really didn’t like when things didn’t go according to his plan.

*

The warehouse smelled faintly of bleach. That had to be a bad sign. We put Caruso in a chair. His head hung forward at an awkward angle. It was creepy.

“Secure his wrists and ankles.” Esau gave me a handful of zip ties. “Make ’em tight.”

I did as I was told. Once I was finished, Esau waved some smelling salts under Caruso’s nose until he woke up. Judging by the incoherent shit he was muttering, he had no clue what was going on. Esau bitch-slapped him a couple times, but there wasn’t much improvement.

“You hungry, kid?”

“Are you for real?” I looked at Esau like he was crazy because he clearly was.

“Yeah, I’ve been into Thai.”

“You want me to go get you fucking Thai?”

“No,” he said it real slow. “I’m going to get food. He’s taking too long to wake up and I’m hungry.”

“Pad Thai. Lots of tofu and no bean sprouts or chicken. And nothing with curry.” This was obviously a when in Rome sort of situation.

“Do you have rules for everything?”

“Only the things that matter.”

He seemed to find this funny. “Any rules about beverages?”

“I don’t drink cheap, crappy beer.”

“Of course. I’ll be back soon.” And then he left me with our friend. Hostage. Package. Whatever.

After fifteen minutes, I was bored. Caruso was asleep again. So I decided to wake him up. Not the best of my ideas.

“Hey,” I shouted at Caruso. “Dude, wake up.” Nothing. I grabbed his shoulder and shook him. “Caruso, get your shit together, man.”

“Huh?” There was life in him after all. “Who the fuck are you?”

Your worst nightmare would have been appropriate. Or maybe I’m with the DiGiovannis. Oh, or none of your fuckin’ business. I decided to ignore the question.

“Are you wakin’ up? ’Cause I’m bored as hell here.”

“Where the fuck am I?” he slurred.

“A warehouse.” Honestly, I didn’t know.

“Fuckin’ untie me.”

“Nope.”

“You can’t hold me here,” he said. Great, now he was awake.

“Legally, no. I’m thinking they frown on kidnapping.” If this place was bugged, I was screwed.

Caruso agreed. “Help,” he started screaming like a girl. Not that I could blame him. “Please, somebody, help me!”

“Dude, shut up.”

“Please, I’ve been kidnapped!” The cries echoed off the walls.

“Seriously, no one can hear you.” I wasn’t trying to be cruel, just honest.

“Help! Please! Anybody!”

I wasn’t proud of what I did next.

“Shut up,” I shouted back at him. He let out a long wail. So I smacked him. More screaming. I hit him again. “Seriously, shut the fuck up.” And again with the screaming.

I needed a new approach. Esau had dropped a bag on the floor. I was guessing it was his let’s kidnap people gear. It was. I rummaged through until I found a roll of duct tape. Caruso was still yelling. I pulled off a fat strip and tried to slap it over his mouth, but he kept rocking his head side to side so I couldn’t get it to stick. I punched him. Hard. It slowed him down long enough for me to get the tape in place.

I really wasn’t digging this new job.

By the time Esau got back, Caruso had worn himself out with the screaming through the tape and futilely twisting in his chair. He had the beginnings of a bruise forming on his cheek and was giving me a new understanding of the phrase staring daggers.

Esau took one look at him and started laughing. “Had fun while I was gone did you?”

“I got bored.” As if that would explain. Esau set the food down along with a six-pack of Sierra Nevada. Totally acceptable. He went to take the tape off Caruso. “Please don’t do that. It took forever for him to stop screaming.” He did it anyway.

“Man, I don’t know who the fuck you are or what the fuck you want, but fuckin’ let me go,” Caruso’s word vomit started flowing and showed no signs of stopping. “I didn’t do anything. Just let me go and I swear I won’t tell anyone.”

“Stop talking,” Esau said. Miraculously, it worked. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“No.” To emphasize, Caruso started shaking his head rather violently.

“I think you do.”

“No, man. Really. Just let me go, okay? I didn’t do anything.”

Esau grabbed Caruso’s chin and put the tape back over his mouth. Why didn’t I do that?

“Thai?” he asked me like we were about to watch a game, not torture some dude.

I shrugged and opened a beer. This was going to be a long night.

By the early hours of the morning, Caruso had figured out who we were and why he was strapped to a chair. The blood covering his greasy suit and the swelling in the general area of his entire body may have contributed to this knowledge. The food was gone and so was the beer, and really, I just wanted a shower and a bed.

I wasn’t going to get what I wanted for a while.

“I just want to know a name, Ray, that’s all.” Esau was crouched in front of Caruso crooning at him. The calm voice didn’t seem to be doing much for our victim.

“Please.” Caruso started to beg again. “I don’t know his name. Just let me go.”

Esau considered this, nodding his head like a good listener. Then, very meticulously, he began to slice away Caruso’s jacket and shirt. He cut up the center, slid the knife tip between shoulder and cloth, and sawed down the sleeves.

“Cooper?”

Reluctantly, I stepped behind Caruso and helped Esau pull the shards of clothing away.

“What…what are you doing?” Caruso started sucking in big gasps of air.

Esau pouted his bottom lip like he was thinking real hard. “The name?”

“I told you, I don’t fuckin’ know.”

More pouting, this time while nodding his head again. “What do you think, kid? I think he’s lying.”

“Yep.” Esau glared at me. “I concur.” He raised an eyebrow and smiled.

“Maybe,” Esau mused, “he just can’t remember.”

“It’s possible. How can we help him with that?”

“The alphabet, I think.” Esau seemed pleased with himself at this idea. He crouched back down. “Remember way back to kindergarten, Ray. We are going to give you some letters and when one rings a bell, you just let us know, all right?” He spoke real slow like you would to a child.

I was getting a decidedly bad feeling about this.

“First is ‘A.’” Esau carved an upside down V at the top of Caruso’s chest. He cut a triangle below the apex. Below that, three short horizontal lines. Then he joined those lines together. Caruso was trying not to scream. Carefully, slowly, Esau slid his knife underneath the “A” he’d cut. When he pulled the skin away, he kept a finger on the small triangle in the center so it would stay in place. He held up the flap of skin for me to see.

I was going to vomit.

“Look at that. Real pretty, huh?”

“Lovely penmanship,” I said. Sometimes it’s better to indulge the maniac instead of pissing him off.

“Thank you. My mother always did say I had beautiful handwriting. So did ‘A’ remind you of anything, Ray?” This dude was out of his skull fuckin’ crazy.

Ray just shook his head. I was pretty sure if he opened his mouth he would scream. Probably didn’t want to give Esau the satisfaction. That conviction wouldn’t last long.

Esau shrugged and tossed the “A” over his shoulder.

“Hmm, okay. On to ‘B’ then.” Another line. Blood spilled from the cut. On the curves of the “B” Esau nimbly twirled the knife. What a waste of pretty hands.

“Is ‘B’ reminding you of anything, Ray?” I asked. It was the most participation Esau was going to get out of me.

Caruso gritted his teeth but said nothing. He screamed when Esau teased the “B” off his chest. I was going to be sick.

Esau glanced up at me. “With ‘C’ the real challenge is getting the curve right.”

“I imagine so.” For a moment, I thought Esau was going to ask me to take over. Thankfully, he didn’t.

When we got to “E” Caruso spat on Esau’s face. Though I’m not sure it was intentional. He was sobbing and yelling and coughing and slobbering everywhere. Calmly, Esau took out an embroidered handkerchief and wiped his face. By “G” Caruso was praying and begging. Loudly.

At “H” I told Esau, “This isn’t working.”

He shot me a look that was pure reprimand.

“I mean, what if the name starts with ‘W’ or something? That could take forever.”

“Good point.” He was smiling now. “Shall I go to the end and work backward a bit?”

“No, space it off and we’ll hit the more common letters. ‘M’ or ‘R’ or maybe ‘S’ or something.”

“Of course. ‘T’ could also be a good one.”

“Like hangman, but without running out of guesses.” I wanted this shit over and done with.

Esau laughed. “I’ll need to do ‘Z’ to make sure it is spaced correctly.”

“Obviously.”

Esau chose a particularly sensitive spot on the left side of Caruso’s stomach and traced out the last letter.

“Is ‘Z’ doing anything for you, Ray?” he asked like he had with all the other letters. No response. Or at least not the response Esau was looking for. He added two more letters before Caruso broke down.

“Stop, please just stop.” He looked down at his chest and cried a little more. It was like a macabre chalkboard. Each letter was perfectly spaced and proportional. Esau really did have lovely writing. The sick fuck.

“Are you ready to tell us the name?”

“Daniels.”

“What was that?” Esau didn’t look happy. And after all that, he really should have been.

“Russ Daniels.”

“Are you sure, Ray?” he asked real slow.

“Yes, I fuckin’ swear.” He sobbed.

“You’re telling me one of Alex DiGiovanni’s men helped you?” Oh, that’s why he was pissed.

“I can prove it.”

“How?”

“My cell phone.” Caruso paused to sniffle and take a few deep breaths. “I recorded a conversation. Just look at my phone.”

“Cooper?”

I picked the shredded jacket up off the floor and dug around until I came up with a phone. Each MP3 was labeled, but with song titles.

“It’s not in here.”

“Play the Sinatra.”

Sure enough, it was a conversation about moving the stolen merchandise. I recognized Caruso’s voice, but not the other. No surprise. Esau, however, stiffened at the first word, and with each successive line became more and more still. By the end, I wasn’t sure if he was breathing. His knuckles were white where they were clenched around the knife. He nodded and went back to his bag.