Greasing the Piñata by Tim Maleeny

silver.”
    Salinas nodded. “I will pay you ten thousand dollars.”
    Cape didn’t hesitate. “I want fifty.”
    Salinas laughed. “And why should I give you that much money?”
    “Because you’re too high-profile—you’re on TV. And you don’t want to kill me.”
    The black eyes glittered. “Don’t be so sure.”
    Cape looked skeptical. “You don’t know why I’m here. Kill me and you might get another half-hour segment on American television. That won’t make your government friends very happy.”
    Salinas studied Cape like a man trying to pick a lobster from a tank. “Continue.”
    “I don’t think your buddy Luis Cordon has public image problems, do you? I had to really dig to find dirt on him.”
    Salinas blinked once, almost reptilian, but his face remained placid. He glanced to his right and the guard on that side of the desk bent to grab a stainless steel briefcase that he placed carefully in front of his boss. Salinas spun the combination locks and turned the case around. Cape could see neatly packed rows of American bills.
    “Take this case with you. Another case—a bigger one—will be delivered to you once I know
everything
.”
    Cape came forward and gently pushed the lid closed, then stepped back from the desk. “Keep the case, Salinas.”
    Salinas worked his jaw. “You are choosing the lead?”
    “No way.” Cape held up his hands. “But I’m kind of a
first come, first serve
detective. I already have a client, and whatever I have to say, my client hears it first.” Cape waited for a reaction. None came. “But if I discover something you can use, I’ll come back for the case. The bigger case.”
    Another crocodile blink, a long pause from Salinas. “And why should I believe you?”
    “I like money.”
    “An honest answer, but can I trust you?”
    Cape almost laughed. “You can trust me about as much as I trust you.”
    Salinas frowned and reopened the case. “I would feel better if you took the money.”
    “But I might feel worse—I might feel like I owed you something.”
    “Do you go to the movies, Cape?”
    “I only like films about zombie baseball.”
    Salinas pressed on. “In American movies about criminals, there is often a scene in which the policeman—or the detective—is offered a chance to work with the so-called bad man. And you know what he always says?”
    “
Never!
” Cape spoke in an overly dramatic voice. “
You’ll have to kill me first.
”
    Salinas clapped. “
Plenario!
These scenes make me laugh—”
    “Because in reality that would never happen. You don’t say no to the bad guy, even if you plan on double-crossing him later. It would be—”
    “—insulting.”
    “I was going to say
unwise
.”
    “That, too,” said Salinas. “Take the money.”
    “Fine.” Cape closed the lid and grabbed the handle of the case with his right hand. It was heavier than he expected.
    Salinas studied him for a minute before speaking.
    “Do not disappoint me.”
    “You sound like my mother.”
    “So bold for a
gringo
. One more thing…”
    Cape kept his face open, his mouth shut.
    “I am perhaps not as good at finding people as you,” said Salinas. “But I am not so bad at it, either.”
    “The silver or the lead?”
    Salinas nodded. “It seems we understand each other.”
    “Guess those team building exercises really paid off.”
    Salinas reached across the desk and extended his right hand. “That is my direct number.”
    Cape took the card, shoved it in his back pocket. “We through?”
    “Adios, Señor Cape.” Salinas gave a short nod and the bodyguard on the right moved to open the door. “Good hunting.”
    Cape followed the curve of the stairway to the front door. No one blocked his way or accompanied him. When he reached the driveway he continued past the cars to the large iron gate, which stood open. Cape looked back at the house. He couldn’t see anyone in the windows but knew he must be under the watchful eye of security cameras. He