“What?”

  “After my trial, after the sentencing, Joey sent Tuco down there to take out Cardosa.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why’d he wait?”

  Mitch didn’t answer. Johnny got a cigarette going, drank beer.

  “I should have seen it,” he said. “It was a setup, all of it. He wanted to get rid of me, but he didn’t have the balls to do it himself.”

  “Johnny, I had no idea …”

  “Doesn’t matter now. It’ll all be settled before this is through. Everything. That’s why I came back.”

  “Are you sure about Joey? I mean, I never liked the guy, but—”

  “I’m sure. And I’ll deal with it. But we need to think about what comes after.”

  “You say ‘we.’”

  “Get me straight, Mitch. I didn’t come back here to fuck up your thing. I’m happy for you.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

  “But I’m blowing out of here soon. For good. I have to settle some business, make a side trip and then I’m gone. You come with me. After things get settled, you can send for Sharonda and the girl.”

  “Where you gonna go?”

  “North. Someplace clean. Far away from here. I have a place in mind, I’ve been looking into it. I’m putting together the cash. That thing I told you about. Enough to last us a long time there.”

  “I don’t know, John. I think I’d just be in your way, you know? I mean, I was never in your league. Even back in the day. I’d just slow you down.”

  “I’m done with ripping and running. This isn’t about that. This is about family. This is about what happens now.”

  Mitch looked at him, couldn’t hold his eyes, looked away. “I don’t know, man.”

  “Think about it. When the time is right, we’ll have to jump fast. I’ll try to give you as much warning as I can, but there might not be much.”

  He took out some of the money Connor had given him, counted out ten hundreds. He folded them, tucked them under the ashtray.

  “What’s that?” Mitch said.

  “That’s for you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I feel like it.”

  Mitch looked at the bills.

  “Go ahead. Take ’em.”

  Mitch slid the money out.

  “It’s only a grand,” Johnny said. “But there’s more when you need it. Buy some things. Whatever you need.”

  “Pay some bills.”

  “Whatever. When you need more, let me know.”

  Mitch put the money in his shirt pocket.

  “Thanks.”

  Johnny poured beer into their mugs.

  “You seen Frazer around?”

  Mitch shook his head.

  “Not since that day.”

  “Good.”

  “Johnny, I know the way you feel about him and all, but …”

  “But what?”

  “He’s an old man. Maybe you shouldn’t treat him like that.”

  “Your memory must be fucked up.”

  “What’s past is past, John. I mean, what happened then … He’s still the guy that raised us.”

  “And a good job of it he did too, didn’t he?”

  “I’m just saying—”

  “When Belinda was fourteen, he put his dick in her. You forget that?”

  “You don’t know that, John.”

  “No. I do. And it happened more than once. Why do you think she got out of the house as soon as she could? Got fucked up all the time like she did? When her car went off the road, hit that abutment, he was as much to blame as she was.”

  “John, you weren’t even around when that happened.”

  “If I had been, I would have put that old bastard down then and there. It was good for him I was gone.”

  “That was cold. Their not letting you go to the funeral.”

  “Like you said, it’s ancient history.”

  They grew silent. The pitcher was almost empty.

  “There’s some shit you can’t control,” Johnny said. “That’s always the way it is. You live in pain and you die in fear and there’s nothing anybody can do about it. But some things you can control. You can get a handle on them, make them go your way. You just need the balls to do it.”

  “You always had it wired, Johnny.”

  “You think so? That what you call sitting on my ass for seven years? Having it wired? Let me tell something, no matter how tough you think you are, how much you eye-fuck the world, there’s one thing gets stolen from you every day. And there’s no way to steal it back, no matter how hard you try. No fucking way at all.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Time,” Johnny said.

  19

  Harry had poured himself a glass of wine, was sitting on the back steps looking up at the stars, when the phone rang.

  “Hey,” Nikki said when he answered. Noise in the background, people talking, laughing.

  “I tried to call you all day,” he said. “I left three messages on the machine at the house.”

  “I’ve been out, I’m sorry.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Like I said, out. Listen, I have to be quick. I’m on a pay phone. I need to ask you a favor.”

  “What kind of favor?”

  “I need a ride.”

  Automatic Slim’s was a small, low-ceilinged club set on the block of businesses that South Belmar called downtown. He walked into clouds of noise and smoke, saw her at the bar.

  It was a mixed crowd here, middle-aged black couples dressed to go out, gray-haired bikers in denim vests over T-shirts. Instruments sat unattended onstage, but a handwritten sign tacked to the wall behind advertised Billy and the Bluesbreakers.

  She was at the bar, her back to him, wearing jeans and a man’s white shirt, her hair moussed and ragged. She was ordering a drink from the elderly black bartender, counting out bills. Men in the crowd were watching her.

  He came up on her right.

  “You really think this is a good idea?” he said. “With all that’s going on?”

  She turned to him. The top two buttons of her shirt were undone. She wore a small gold crucifix on a chain.

  “I was wondering if you’d come,” she said. “Let me buy you a drink.”

  “No, thanks. What’s going on?”

  She lifted her drink, nodded toward the back of the room. There was a raised section with tables there. At a table by the wall were Jack and a man at least ten years his junior, with curly black hair and delicate features. He seemed to find everything Jack said amusing. A bottle of champagne stood in a pewter bucket beside the table.

  “He did manage to break away for a couple minutes on his way to the men’s room,” she said. “Asked me if I could find another way home. I didn’t know who else to call.” He could smell the liquor on her breath.

  “Where’s Reggie?” he said.

  “Please. As Jack gets older, his interests get younger. He’ll be an old queen before long and he knows it, so he thinks if he screws men half his age it’ll keep him young.”

  “Does it work?”

  “Who knows? Occasionally, someone will recognize him, though, from the movies. And then he can’t keep them off him.”

  He looked at her face.

  “That ever happen to you?” he said.

  She met his eyes.

  “So you are a detective, after all. But I guess the answer would be not lately. At least not out here.”

  “I’m sorry. That was wrong.”

  “Never mind. I’ve had worse said to me by better.”

  She sipped her drink.

  “You look awful funny standing there with your coat on, not drinking,” she said. “Let me get you something. A beer. Soda.”

  He shook his head.

  “I’m fine. And I wasn’t planning on staying long.”

  “Let me finish this at least,” she said. She raised her glass. “I’ve given up just about everything else in my life. I felt I had to hold on to at least one vice. So I told him easy on the vodka, and don’t spare the cranberry juice. This is only my third.”

  “My concern would be this,” he said, turning his head to indicate the club. “Being out. If I were worried about someone looking for me, I might try to keep a lower profile.”

  “Every once in a while I’m reminded I had a life once, you know? Before Johnny, before the Heartbreak, before California. I had friends of my own, places I went. I used to come here all the time. I felt comfortable here. If I give all that up because of what happened, what does that leave me?”

  “I was just asking.”

  “I’ve been a prisoner since I’ve gotten back. At least that’s the way it feels. This is the first time I’ve been out in months. Jack asked me if I wanted to come along—protective coloration, I guess. Make Reggie less suspicious. I couldn’t come up with a good reason to say no.”

  “It’s none of my business what you do.”

  “You’re right. It isn’t.”

  She sipped her drink, put it down. The band members were starting to make their way back onstage, drums, bass, guitar and keyboards. The guitarist and keyboard player were white, the others black.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “But I was having a good time tonight, not thinking about any of this. Until now.”

  “Forget it, I’m sorry I brought it up.”

  She touched his jacket, drew her hand away self-consciously, let it drop.

  “No, it’s me that should apologize,” she said. “Getting all wound up without a reason. Things haven’t been easy for me lately.”

  “You’re not armed right now, are you?” Only half kidding.

  She smiled.

  “Not tonight. You’re safe.”

  “Good. If it’s all the same to you, I think I’d like to get out of here.”

  “Let me get my jacket.”

  She sipped her drink, put it down on the bar, made her way through the crowd to the tables. She leaned over, spoke to Jack and took her leather car coat off the back of the chair next to him. He looked up, saw Harry, then leaned close to the dark-haired man, spoke in his ear.

  Harry met her halfway to the door.

  “I hate it when he puts me in these situations,” she said. “I feel like I’m stuck in the middle.”

  “Ask him not to.”

  Behind them, the band kicked into “Crosscut Saw.” He pushed the door open, held it for her. She zipped up as they went out into the cold.

  “Sometimes I think Reggie knows what’s going on,” she said. “And maybe he tolerates it. I just wish Jack were a little more discreet.”

  Out here, the music was just muffled bass. He pointed up the street to where the Mustang was parked. She puffed, watched her breath mist, a girlish gesture, bumped shoulders with him as they walked.

  “You could have called a cab,” he said.

  “And gone home without him? Two hours early? How would I explain that?”

  At the Mustang, he unlocked the passenger-side door. As he made his way around the car, he saw her lean over, pop the lock on his side.

  He got behind the wheel, switched the ignition on, racing the engine slightly to warm it up. She smelled of cigarette smoke and vanilla musk.

  “Are you hungry?” she said. “There must be a diner open someplace where we can eat. Kill some time.”

  “I guess.”

  “Or you can just take me home. I’ll tell Reggie I didn’t feel good, that I called you. Jack can fend for himself when he gets in.”

  “Whatever,” Harry said. There was warm air coming from the vents now. He pulled away from the curb.

  “You said you called me, left messages,” she said.

  “I did. You weren’t in.”

  “Are you going to tell me now?”

  They stopped at a light. He gave the engine gas to keep it from stalling.

  “I talked to Sherry,” he said.

  “She hates me now, doesn’t she?”

  “No, I don’t think so. She said she wished you luck.”

  “I lost touch with her. I shouldn’t have. She was a good friend. It’s just that once I got back—”

  “She understands.”

  “—I didn’t feel like the same person anymore.”

  The light changed.

  “When Harrow came by the Heartbreak,” he said, “he gave her a phone number, told her to call if she heard from you.”

  She looked at him.

  “She didn’t, of course,” he said.

  “Did you get the number from her?”

  He nodded.

  “It’s in western Monmouth. Englishtown area. I called, a woman answered. I hung up. The number’s new, though, we couldn’t match it up with the reverse directory. Might be the brother’s. Ray’s chasing it down. Might take a day or two.”

  “So Johnny’s there?”

  “I don’t think so. I think he’s just using it as a place to get messages.”

  “He grew up in Englishtown, you know that, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He might be staying out there.”

  “Maybe. Ray should be able to get an address on that number from the phone company Monday. We’ll take it from there.”

  They drove through Belmar, past darkened storefronts, bars with beer signs glowing in their windows. The Christmas decorations that hung from the lightpoles were dark.

  She looked around the car.

  “This is nice,” she said. “How old is it?”

  “Sixty-seven.”

  “It’s cute. I meant to mention that the last time, but the mood didn’t seem right, if you know what I mean.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “You angry?” she said. “That I called you?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I bet you’re wondering how you ever got involved with me.”

  “Not really.”

  “And I bet you’re full of questions about me, even though I haven’t given you the chance to ask many of them.”

  “You’ve told me a lot. More, probably, than I had a right to know.”

  “More than you wanted to know?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “I know I’m paying you, but it still feels wrong. As if I’m pulling you into something I have no business involving you in.”

  “Like you said, you’re paying.”

  “It’s not enough, I’m sure.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’m not so hungry after all. Can we just take a ride, drive around a little? I don’t want to get back too early.”

  He looked at her, feeling her nearness. She was looking out her window, her face giving nothing away.

  “Sure,” he said. He turned right, drove down toward the beach, then north on Ocean Avenue. To their left were dark arcades and restaurants, shuttered for the winter. To their right, the empty boardwalk.

  “That’s what I missed about being out here,” she said. “The ocean.”

  “They have one in California too, last I heard.”

  “It’s not the same. The water’s colder there, even though the air’s warmer. I don’t know why. And the beaches are so crowded. It’s not like here.”

  “You haven’t been around in the summer lately then. More people come down here every year. You can’t move on the beach sometimes. It’s not the way it used to be.”

  “I missed it, though. You always miss the place you grew up in. Even if it was full of bad memories.”

  “And was California any better?”

  “It was at first.”

  “And then?”

  “It’s like every other place. It’s who you are. Not where. Turn left here.”

  He looked at her.

  “Here. This street coming up.”

  They were in Bradley Beach now; dark, empty summer rentals, windblown sand on the road. He turned.

  “Up here,” she said. “On the right. Over there.”

  She pointed at an empty oversize lot, a dark bingo hall on one side, a church on the other.

  “Can you pull in?” she said.

  The Mustang’s headlights flashed across the lot, the wooden fence at the back of the property. They were on the potholed remains of a driveway, the blacktop around them cracked and split. Near the fence was what looked like a pile of twisted scrap metal, half-buried in windblown trash. He put the car in neutral, tugged the emergency brake on.

  She swiveled in her seat, looked around the lot.

  “They used to have a carnival here,” she said. “Every weekend during the summer. The church sponsored it. My mother used to take me on Friday nights sometimes, when she got off work. It’s been years since I’ve been back here.”

  He looked at the pile of metal, switched on his high beams. He saw rusted metal arms a foot thick sprouting from a central mass of once-black steel. In that instant he knew what it was. The Octopus, a ride from his childhood. Eight cars spinning fast at the end of long metal arms. But the cars had been removed, the main mechanism and supports left to rust.

  “When I was in California, I used to go out to the pier in Santa Monica all the time,” she said. “They had rides, games, Skee-ball. It reminded me of home. Bright lights, noise and then the ocean just going on forever. Have you ever been to California?”

  “No.”

  “You need to get around more.”

  “Maybe.”

  “It’s the same feeling you get here. Of being on the edge of something. Something that doesn’t end.”

  “It does,” he said. “Eventually.”

  “You know what I mean. When you were a kid, did you come here, to Bradley?”

  “Not here. But other places like it. Long Branch mostly, where I grew up. Asbury.”

  “It was so long ago. Those nights seem like a dream now.” She was looking out the window again.

  “Funny,” she said, “how a memory like that, something that small, can bring so much back.”

  “It’s selective. We remember the good things, block out the bad.”

  “No,” she said without turning. “I remember the bad too. You have to concentrate to bring back the good things, or something has to set it off. Like this place. But the bad, it’s always with you.”

  A gust of wind blew from the ocean, shook the car almost imperceptibly.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m babbling. But I’m not drunk. Really.”