where the fuck you were. That happens a lot lately. We don’t know where the fuck you are.”
“I’m out covering your ass while you’re here making stupid decisions,” Johnson said. He crossed behind the desk and stood near Monroe. Monroe was sitting in his desk chair. For a moment, Monroe stayed where he was as if Johnson might go away. When he didn’t, Monroe stood and moved easily around the front of the desk. Johnson sat in the chair. He gestured at me. “Who’s this guy other than he killed Dave? Why should I trust him? Why should you?”
Monroe was wearing an untucked black silk shirt that hung over black pants. He was a big man, and when he sat on the corner of the desk he was the most impressive man in the room. He said, “Joe’s got nothing to gain by working against us and everything to gain by working with us. Also, he’s good at what he does.”
“Yeah?” said Johnson. “Like how?”
“Like he was just telling me about his investigation into us before Southshore. Says he kept records.” Monroe was casual but he kept his eyes on Johnson. “Says he has pictures of us at the construction sites. Other pictures too. What did you say they were? Thompson Metals and National Brass and Copper?”
I nodded.
If you weren’t looking close you might’ve missed Johnson flinching at the mention of the warehouses. But I was looking close. So was Monroe.
Then Johnson glanced away like I was a minor distraction. “Now that you’re involved with us, you might want to burn the photos.”
I looked at him. “Am I going tonight?”
He looked back. He was barely tolerating me. “Sure. If it turns out you’re fucking with us, we’ll turn the gang reps loose on you. They’ll tear you apart.”
THIRTEEN
YOU CAN’T BUY A gun legally in Chicago. You’ve got to drive into the tree-lined suburban streets. There, between a dry cleaner and a 7-Eleven, you can get a SIG SAUER pistol with a night sight or an M16, anything short of a rocket launcher.
But Theo’s Pawn and Coin in the southwest Loop kept a small stock under the counter. If the owner knew you, she would sell you something from her illegal collection. She had few choices but she kept the guns well oiled and clean.
I stopped by Theo’s on my way to my office.
Theo died in the early 1990s and his wife Susie ran the store. She was a tough, short, wide-faced woman in her fifties with flat brown hair that she kept in a ponytail. She wore short-sleeved T-shirts year round. A large tattoo peaked from under her right sleeve. The tattoo said Love in large looping letters. The rumor was she’d killed Theo to get the store.
“Joe!” She grinned as I came in. “Long time.”
A dozen acoustic guitars hung on the wall behind her. Next to them were three violins, a banjo, a drum set, and a stack of stereo tuners. Power tools hung in the front window. A long glass case held jewelry, cameras, and watches. A sign on the wall said, merchandise sold as is. no returns, no refunds. cash only. checks accepted. deposits not refundable. have a nice day .
I was the only customer in the store, which made my life easier.
I went to the counter and Susie leaned against it on her elbows. She looked in my eyes like an old lover.
“What can I do for you?” she said.
“I need a gun.”
She frowned. “I was afraid you’d say that. You know I can’t help you. You’re on TV, and I don’t sell high-risk. The cops find a gun on you and trace it to me, and I’ve got to go into early retirement.”
“I’ll pay twice what you’re asking.”
She rolled her eyes. “Jesus! Do you think I’m that easy?”
“Yeah, usually. I’ll pay whatever you’re asking.”
“Wow,” she said and she looked at me, worried. “You’re hungry for a gun.”
I admitted I was.
“You know, if you find yourself a girl for a night, that can sometimes take care of the itch, and it’s a lot less dangerous.”
“I’m not planning to shoot anyone. I’m trying to keep
“I’m out covering your ass while you’re here making stupid decisions,” Johnson said. He crossed behind the desk and stood near Monroe. Monroe was sitting in his desk chair. For a moment, Monroe stayed where he was as if Johnson might go away. When he didn’t, Monroe stood and moved easily around the front of the desk. Johnson sat in the chair. He gestured at me. “Who’s this guy other than he killed Dave? Why should I trust him? Why should you?”
Monroe was wearing an untucked black silk shirt that hung over black pants. He was a big man, and when he sat on the corner of the desk he was the most impressive man in the room. He said, “Joe’s got nothing to gain by working against us and everything to gain by working with us. Also, he’s good at what he does.”
“Yeah?” said Johnson. “Like how?”
“Like he was just telling me about his investigation into us before Southshore. Says he kept records.” Monroe was casual but he kept his eyes on Johnson. “Says he has pictures of us at the construction sites. Other pictures too. What did you say they were? Thompson Metals and National Brass and Copper?”
I nodded.
If you weren’t looking close you might’ve missed Johnson flinching at the mention of the warehouses. But I was looking close. So was Monroe.
Then Johnson glanced away like I was a minor distraction. “Now that you’re involved with us, you might want to burn the photos.”
I looked at him. “Am I going tonight?”
He looked back. He was barely tolerating me. “Sure. If it turns out you’re fucking with us, we’ll turn the gang reps loose on you. They’ll tear you apart.”
THIRTEEN
YOU CAN’T BUY A gun legally in Chicago. You’ve got to drive into the tree-lined suburban streets. There, between a dry cleaner and a 7-Eleven, you can get a SIG SAUER pistol with a night sight or an M16, anything short of a rocket launcher.
But Theo’s Pawn and Coin in the southwest Loop kept a small stock under the counter. If the owner knew you, she would sell you something from her illegal collection. She had few choices but she kept the guns well oiled and clean.
I stopped by Theo’s on my way to my office.
Theo died in the early 1990s and his wife Susie ran the store. She was a tough, short, wide-faced woman in her fifties with flat brown hair that she kept in a ponytail. She wore short-sleeved T-shirts year round. A large tattoo peaked from under her right sleeve. The tattoo said Love in large looping letters. The rumor was she’d killed Theo to get the store.
“Joe!” She grinned as I came in. “Long time.”
A dozen acoustic guitars hung on the wall behind her. Next to them were three violins, a banjo, a drum set, and a stack of stereo tuners. Power tools hung in the front window. A long glass case held jewelry, cameras, and watches. A sign on the wall said, merchandise sold as is. no returns, no refunds. cash only. checks accepted. deposits not refundable. have a nice day .
I was the only customer in the store, which made my life easier.
I went to the counter and Susie leaned against it on her elbows. She looked in my eyes like an old lover.
“What can I do for you?” she said.
“I need a gun.”
She frowned. “I was afraid you’d say that. You know I can’t help you. You’re on TV, and I don’t sell high-risk. The cops find a gun on you and trace it to me, and I’ve got to go into early retirement.”
“I’ll pay twice what you’re asking.”
She rolled her eyes. “Jesus! Do you think I’m that easy?”
“Yeah, usually. I’ll pay whatever you’re asking.”
“Wow,” she said and she looked at me, worried. “You’re hungry for a gun.”
I admitted I was.
“You know, if you find yourself a girl for a night, that can sometimes take care of the itch, and it’s a lot less dangerous.”
“I’m not planning to shoot anyone. I’m trying to keep
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