succeeding.
"Say, those pancakes look good." He dipped his finger in the pool of maple syrup on Lozada's plate and licked it off. "Hmm.
Right tasty."
"How did you know I was here?"
"I just poked my head out the window and followed the stench."
Actually this hotel coffee shop was known by the department to be one of the killer's favorite breakfast places. The son of a bitch had never kept a low profile. In fact, he jeered at his would-be captors from the driver's seat of his fancy car and the panoramic windows of his penthouse, material luxuries that gave the cops all the more reason to despise him.
"Are you having something, sir?"
Wick turned toward the young waitress who had approached the table. "Fun, darlin'," he said, sweeping off his cowboy hat and placing it over his heart. "Just having a little fun here with my old friend Ricky Roy."
Lozada despised his first two names and hated being addressed by them, so Wick used them whenever an opportunity presented itself. "Have you two met?"
He read the waitress's name off the plastic tag pinned to her blouse. "Shelley--pretty name, by the way--meet Ricky Roy. Ricky Roy, this is Shelley."
She blushed to the roots of her hair. "He comes in here a lot. I know his name."
In a stage whisper, Wick asked, "Is he a good tipper?"
"Yes, sir. Very good."
"Well now that's nice to hear. And somewhat surprising. See, actually, Ricky Roy has very few redeeming qualities." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, being a good tipper might be his only redeeming quality."
The waitress divided a cautious look between them that eventually landed on Wick. "Would you like some coffee?"
"No thanks, Shelley, but you're a sweetheart for asking. If I need anything I'll let you know." He gave her a friendly wink. She blushed again and scuttled away. Coming back around to Lozada, he said, "Now, where were we? Oh, yeah, long time no see. Sorry I missed your trial. Heard you and your lawyer put on quite a show."
"It was a waste of everybody's time."
"Oh, I agree. I surely do. I don't know why they would bother with a trial for a sack of shit like you. If I had my way, they'd skip the folderol and you'd go straight to death row."
"Then lucky for me my fate isn't up to you."
"You never know, Ricky Roy. One day soon it just might be." Wick flashed him a wide grin and the two enemies assessed one another.
Eventually Wick said, "Nice suit."
"Thank you." Lozada took in Wick's worn jeans, cowboy boots, and the hat he had set on the table. "I could give you the name of my tailor."
Wick laughed. "I couldn't afford him. Those look like expensive threads. Business must be good." He leaned forward and lowered his voice.
"Whacked anybody interesting since that banker fellow? I'm itching to know who hired you for that one.
His daddy-in-law maybe? Heard they didn't get along. What'd you use on him, anyway?
Piano wire? Guitar string? Fishing line?
Why not just the old one-two with your trusty blade?"
"My breakfast is getting cold."
"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to stay so long. No, I just stopped by to say hello and let you know I was back in town." Wick stood up and reached for his hat. He turned the chair around and pushed it back into place. Then he leaned across the table as far as he could reach and spoke for Lozada's ears alone. "And to let you know that if it's the last thing I do, I'm gonna carve my brother's name on your ass."
"I'm not sure that was a smart move, Wick."
"It did my heart good."
"In fact, I'm certain it was a dumb move."
Wick had miscalculated. Oren hadn't found the account of his meeting with Lozada funny.
Not in the slightest. "Why's that?"
"Because now he knows we're watching him."
"Oh, like that's a shocker," Wick said sarcastically. "He knows we're always watching him." He'd been irritable to start with, and Oren's disapproval wasn't helping his mood.
He lunged from his chair and began to pace. He snapped the rubber band against his wrist.
"That
"Say, those pancakes look good." He dipped his finger in the pool of maple syrup on Lozada's plate and licked it off. "Hmm.
Right tasty."
"How did you know I was here?"
"I just poked my head out the window and followed the stench."
Actually this hotel coffee shop was known by the department to be one of the killer's favorite breakfast places. The son of a bitch had never kept a low profile. In fact, he jeered at his would-be captors from the driver's seat of his fancy car and the panoramic windows of his penthouse, material luxuries that gave the cops all the more reason to despise him.
"Are you having something, sir?"
Wick turned toward the young waitress who had approached the table. "Fun, darlin'," he said, sweeping off his cowboy hat and placing it over his heart. "Just having a little fun here with my old friend Ricky Roy."
Lozada despised his first two names and hated being addressed by them, so Wick used them whenever an opportunity presented itself. "Have you two met?"
He read the waitress's name off the plastic tag pinned to her blouse. "Shelley--pretty name, by the way--meet Ricky Roy. Ricky Roy, this is Shelley."
She blushed to the roots of her hair. "He comes in here a lot. I know his name."
In a stage whisper, Wick asked, "Is he a good tipper?"
"Yes, sir. Very good."
"Well now that's nice to hear. And somewhat surprising. See, actually, Ricky Roy has very few redeeming qualities." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, being a good tipper might be his only redeeming quality."
The waitress divided a cautious look between them that eventually landed on Wick. "Would you like some coffee?"
"No thanks, Shelley, but you're a sweetheart for asking. If I need anything I'll let you know." He gave her a friendly wink. She blushed again and scuttled away. Coming back around to Lozada, he said, "Now, where were we? Oh, yeah, long time no see. Sorry I missed your trial. Heard you and your lawyer put on quite a show."
"It was a waste of everybody's time."
"Oh, I agree. I surely do. I don't know why they would bother with a trial for a sack of shit like you. If I had my way, they'd skip the folderol and you'd go straight to death row."
"Then lucky for me my fate isn't up to you."
"You never know, Ricky Roy. One day soon it just might be." Wick flashed him a wide grin and the two enemies assessed one another.
Eventually Wick said, "Nice suit."
"Thank you." Lozada took in Wick's worn jeans, cowboy boots, and the hat he had set on the table. "I could give you the name of my tailor."
Wick laughed. "I couldn't afford him. Those look like expensive threads. Business must be good." He leaned forward and lowered his voice.
"Whacked anybody interesting since that banker fellow? I'm itching to know who hired you for that one.
His daddy-in-law maybe? Heard they didn't get along. What'd you use on him, anyway?
Piano wire? Guitar string? Fishing line?
Why not just the old one-two with your trusty blade?"
"My breakfast is getting cold."
"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to stay so long. No, I just stopped by to say hello and let you know I was back in town." Wick stood up and reached for his hat. He turned the chair around and pushed it back into place. Then he leaned across the table as far as he could reach and spoke for Lozada's ears alone. "And to let you know that if it's the last thing I do, I'm gonna carve my brother's name on your ass."
"I'm not sure that was a smart move, Wick."
"It did my heart good."
"In fact, I'm certain it was a dumb move."
Wick had miscalculated. Oren hadn't found the account of his meeting with Lozada funny.
Not in the slightest. "Why's that?"
"Because now he knows we're watching him."
"Oh, like that's a shocker," Wick said sarcastically. "He knows we're always watching him." He'd been irritable to start with, and Oren's disapproval wasn't helping his mood.
He lunged from his chair and began to pace. He snapped the rubber band against his wrist.
"That
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