Dirty Deeds by Armand Rosamilia Page B

fired.”
    “When we found out you were back in town we made an arrangement with the car service,” Keane said.
    “He just lost my business.”
    Keane smiled. “When the word hits the street he had to help us he’ll be out of business. An outfit like his relies on getting things done for bad people, no matter what it is.”
    I thought of the guy in the trunk but wisely kept my mouth shut.
    “Where are you taking me?” I asked.
    “To a secluded spot where we can talk. Just the two of us,” Keane said.
    “I’ve already spent too much time with you this week. Unless we’re going to see another ballgame.” I sat back and tried to calm my nerves. This had been an intense afternoon so far. I needed to not panic and figure out what was going on.
    How much did Keane actually know? He was acting like he’d figured it all out. He was smiling too much, but it could be a bluff.
    I needed to take it for a bluff and make this as pleasantly hard as I could for Keane. He wasn’t getting anything out of me except my dinner order if it lasted too long.
    We sat in silence for awhile and I purposely turned my head and stared out the tinted window. When we drove over to Staten Island I didn’t make a sound. I wasn’t going to ask where we were going because I wouldn’t get an answer and he’d know I was getting antsy.
    The car stopped a few minutes later in the middle of a block of typical Staten Island houses, all cramped together and looking the same except for the house paint and the cars in the driveways. The house next to the car was vacant and it looked like construction was underway.
    The agents got out and I followed. The two goons stayed behind with the driver – he was still fired in my book – as Keane led me inside the unfinished garage and through a door.
    We were in the unfinished kitchen, saws and hammer in sawdust on the counters.
    “Are you thinking of buying this place? Want my opinion?” I asked.
    “I couldn’t afford this cramped box on my salary. You know what they want for them?”
    I shook my head. I didn’t know and I didn’t care. I could never live this close to my neighbors. I’d end up trying to buy the block so I could store baseball cards.
    “I’m guessing there’s a reason we’re here,” I said. I wiped off a stepladder and sat down. I looked around, hoping there was something cold to drink and no one hiding anywhere. I didn’t take Keane for a guy who’d bring me out to a place to put a bullet in my head, but you never wanted to be wrong and dead.
    “I need to know what you know about Chenzo and his dead son,” Keane said. He went right to the point, which I appreciated.
    I also knew he thought the kid was dead. He hadn’t said it ironically or to see if I knew he was still alive. He genuinely thought the body on the beach was Little Chenzo.
    “I know about as much as you do. It has nothing to do with me,” I said.
    “I disagree. Word on the street is he’s looking for you, and it has everything to do with his dead son. In fact, I know the two monsters you were walking with. We’ve been watching them for months. We have enough to lock them both away and throw away the key,” Keane said.
    “It would’ve been helpful if you’d already done it. I guess once they take turns beating me into bloody pulp you’ll get around to it,” I said.
    “There’s a much bigger picture here, James. You help us put away Chenzo and I won’t be so hard on you when we finally catch you doing whatever it is you do. Doesn’t that sound fair?”
    I shook my head. “You know if I had something juicy, especially on Chenzo, I’d give it over. Self-preservation is very high on my list. But I’m not involved. You’re asking the wrong guy.”
    “The driver said he saw you the other night leaving the airport. Obviously he’s an agent and not a driver. He followed you to a suit guy. We questioned him,” Keane said.
    “Great. Now I’ll have to pay full price because you bothered