Die a Stranger by Steve Hamilton Page B

at the table, it didn’t look like he was getting anywhere. But he was smiling when he wished them a good night and came back to our table.
    “What happened?” I said.
    “Not a damned thing. But I mentioned a sum of money that will get them thinking. At least one or two of them. Now all we have to do is wait.”
    It started getting a little too noisy to talk, so we just sat there for a while. That was fine with me, anyway. I still wasn’t sure what to make of this guy.
    I had to admit, though. His plan was solid. If Buck was involved in that drug ring, this was the best way to find out more. And there was no way I could do this on my own, even if I had thought of it.
    We waited there another thirty or forty minutes. The group of six men got up to leave. They all went outside, and for a moment it looked like the whole thing had been a waste of our time. But then about two minutes later, one of the men came back inside. He looked over at us and gave us a little head bob. We got up and went to the side door.
    When we were outside, he came out and joined us.
    “Who’s this?” he said, pointing at me.
    “He’s my friend,” Lou said. “Don’t worry, he’s cool. He looks pretty straight, but he needs his herb, man. Helps him with the nausea.”
    “What, like you mean he’s sick?”
    Lou put a finger to his lips. “Let’s not even go there,” he said, “but yeah, it’s pretty bad. You’re really helping him out.”
    He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of money. It went into the young man’s hand before I could see the bills, and something else was passed from the young man to Lou. For one brief second, I flashed back to the streets of Detroit. This was where I’d make my move, handcuff them both and call for backup.
    “My man Buck says this is the place,” Lou said. “I’m glad he was right.”
    “You know Buck?”
    “We go way back. Haven’t seen him in a while. Have you?”
    “Not lately. He was supposed to be here tonight, but he’s been gone for like three days.”
    “Ah, whatever,” Lou said. “He’ll turn up. You know how Buck is. So listen, if we need a little more of this, where can we go?”
    “You come right here, man. I’m here most every night.”
    “No, no, I mean if we really need more, you know what I’m saying? There’s gotta be somebody else up the line, right?”
    “I don’t know, man.”
    “Come on, be a good friend to a couple guys in need,” he said. “Do it for Buck. Or hell, do it for a little finder’s fee, eh?”
    Another wad of money came out of the pocket and disappeared into the man’s hand.
    “All right, man. I’ll give you an address. But it can’t come from me, you got it? Tell him Buck sent you or something, but you can’t give him my name.”
    “You haven’t even told me your name,” Lou said. “So how could I pass it along? You’re as anonymous as the wind.”
    That seemed to satisfy him. Lou produced a folded receipt from his pocket, along with a pen. The man wrote down a name and address on the back of the receipt and passed it back to him. They exchanged a complicated handshake, then the man looked at me like he still wasn’t sure what to make of me. Then he was gone.
    “How much money did you give him?” I said.
    “Don’t worry about it,” Lou said, holding the paper up in the cheap light. “If this works, it’ll be a bargain.”
    “I’m serious. You already flew out here on short notice. That had to run a couple thousand dollars. Now you’re here throwing money around like some kind of big shot.”
    “I got some saved,” he said. “So what? What else am I gonna spend it on?”
    Maybe child support, I was thinking, going back a number of years. But I let it go.
    I looked at my watch. It was after one o’clock now. Inside the Cozy, somebody started the jukebox and the bass notes came rumbling out under our feet.
    “I haven’t been to the Soo in years,” he said, handing me the paper. “You think you can find