up.”
I thought back to the conversation I’d had at Zen’s. “You don’t mean the burglary, do you? I thought you got the guys who did that.”
“You see? This is a man who knows how to do his job.” He said this to his son, who was turned sideways in his seat and watching over the headrest, gun at the ready. “Yes, I mean the burglary.” He pointed to a scar running from above his right eye to his hairline. It looked recent and was about the right size to have been made with the butt of a pistol. “It’s true that I got the men who did this to me. I could show you more of what they did, but I won’t. Let’s just say those two men won’t be doing it to anyone else ever again.”
“So?”
“Those two men — they were nothing. Amateurs. They didn’t plan the job themselves. Someone else told them where to go and what to do and when to do it. It was no accident that they broke in when they did. Someone knew I’d have a lot of cash at home that night. Someone who got half the take for putting the finger on me. Someone who walked away with five hundred thousand dollars of my money.”
“You think it was Miranda?”
“I know it was.”
“Why?”
“Because,” he rasped, “they told me it was. While they could still talk.”
I thought about Catch and the cup full of teeth. I pictured the two burglars tied to chairs, the father and son working them over till they spilled everything they knew. I looked from one to the other. Would the old man have held their heads, or would he have been the one working the pliers?
“It doesn’t make sense,” I said. “How could Miranda have known about the money?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Blake. But I can tell when a man’s lying and when he’s telling the truth, and those two, at the end... they weren’t lying.”
No, they probably wouldn’t have been — and it didn’t sound as though Murco was, either. He believed what they’d told him, and he believed what he was telling me. But what did that mean? If it was true, it meant Miranda hadn’t just turned into a stripper — she’d turned into a thief as well. It also meant he’d had one hell of a reason to kill her. It certainly explained why Miranda had been so frightened of him.
But if he had killed her, why was he talking to me now? “You killed Miranda,” I said, “and now you can’t find the money she took from you.”
“If I’d killed her, Mr. Blake, you’d better believe I’d have gotten her to tell me where the money was first.”
“You’re saying you didn’t kill her?”
“Of course I am.”
“You realize everyone thinks you did it.”
“Everyone’s an idiot. You think I would have done it in my own club? You think I would have left the body there for Lenz to find? You think I’m stupid?”
It didn’t seem to call for an answer.
For the first time, Catch spoke. His voice was a husky baritone. “If we’d killed her,” he said, “it wouldn’t have been with two bullets to the back of the head either.” His eyes were completely dead. This was the man who’d held the pliers, I decided.
“Don’t get me wrong,” the father said, “I would have killed her, if I’d known she was the one who set me up. But I didn’t know it was Sugarman until after she was dead.”
“You said the two men you caught told you—”
“They told us the person who’d set them up for the job was a woman, a stripper named Jessie they’d met at a club in the Bronx called the Wildman. They didn’t know Jessie’s real name, just that she had blonde hair and fake tits and that she gave them my address and took her cut of the money when they returned after the job. That’s all they knew. We talked to the owner of the Wildman, but by that time Sugarman hadn’t shown up for work in weeks, and all the information they had on her in their files was wrong. You understand? She made it up. Fake name, fake address. That left me nowhere. You know how many blondes with fake tits there are in
I thought back to the conversation I’d had at Zen’s. “You don’t mean the burglary, do you? I thought you got the guys who did that.”
“You see? This is a man who knows how to do his job.” He said this to his son, who was turned sideways in his seat and watching over the headrest, gun at the ready. “Yes, I mean the burglary.” He pointed to a scar running from above his right eye to his hairline. It looked recent and was about the right size to have been made with the butt of a pistol. “It’s true that I got the men who did this to me. I could show you more of what they did, but I won’t. Let’s just say those two men won’t be doing it to anyone else ever again.”
“So?”
“Those two men — they were nothing. Amateurs. They didn’t plan the job themselves. Someone else told them where to go and what to do and when to do it. It was no accident that they broke in when they did. Someone knew I’d have a lot of cash at home that night. Someone who got half the take for putting the finger on me. Someone who walked away with five hundred thousand dollars of my money.”
“You think it was Miranda?”
“I know it was.”
“Why?”
“Because,” he rasped, “they told me it was. While they could still talk.”
I thought about Catch and the cup full of teeth. I pictured the two burglars tied to chairs, the father and son working them over till they spilled everything they knew. I looked from one to the other. Would the old man have held their heads, or would he have been the one working the pliers?
“It doesn’t make sense,” I said. “How could Miranda have known about the money?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Blake. But I can tell when a man’s lying and when he’s telling the truth, and those two, at the end... they weren’t lying.”
No, they probably wouldn’t have been — and it didn’t sound as though Murco was, either. He believed what they’d told him, and he believed what he was telling me. But what did that mean? If it was true, it meant Miranda hadn’t just turned into a stripper — she’d turned into a thief as well. It also meant he’d had one hell of a reason to kill her. It certainly explained why Miranda had been so frightened of him.
But if he had killed her, why was he talking to me now? “You killed Miranda,” I said, “and now you can’t find the money she took from you.”
“If I’d killed her, Mr. Blake, you’d better believe I’d have gotten her to tell me where the money was first.”
“You’re saying you didn’t kill her?”
“Of course I am.”
“You realize everyone thinks you did it.”
“Everyone’s an idiot. You think I would have done it in my own club? You think I would have left the body there for Lenz to find? You think I’m stupid?”
It didn’t seem to call for an answer.
For the first time, Catch spoke. His voice was a husky baritone. “If we’d killed her,” he said, “it wouldn’t have been with two bullets to the back of the head either.” His eyes were completely dead. This was the man who’d held the pliers, I decided.
“Don’t get me wrong,” the father said, “I would have killed her, if I’d known she was the one who set me up. But I didn’t know it was Sugarman until after she was dead.”
“You said the two men you caught told you—”
“They told us the person who’d set them up for the job was a woman, a stripper named Jessie they’d met at a club in the Bronx called the Wildman. They didn’t know Jessie’s real name, just that she had blonde hair and fake tits and that she gave them my address and took her cut of the money when they returned after the job. That’s all they knew. We talked to the owner of the Wildman, but by that time Sugarman hadn’t shown up for work in weeks, and all the information they had on her in their files was wrong. You understand? She made it up. Fake name, fake address. That left me nowhere. You know how many blondes with fake tits there are in
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