Kings of Midnight (7 page)

“This is where I get nervous,” he said. “I have one or two clients like yourself, with special needs. But there are other attorneys who build practices around that, if you know what I mean.”

“And you know some of these others?”

“Know, but don't associate with. Don't need to, generally, and don't want to. Occasionally our paths cross, but I try to avoid them as much as possible. Way I look at it, they're begging to be disbarred or worse.”

“I don't have any contacts up here anymore, besides you. Otherwise, I'd work it out myself. But with Hector gone…”

He chewed a lip. “I still think you should lie low, stash that for a while.”

“I can't. I need to move it.”

He took a pen from an inside pocket, tapped it on the table, then pulled the legal pad closer. He wrote on it quickly, tore a half page off.

“Here's a name,” he said. “He's in Manhattan. I'm not sure of the number.” He slid the paper across to her.

“I'll find it.” She took the sheet. “He know you?”

“Maybe. But don't use my name. I don't want anything to do with that guy. He may want credentials, contacts of people you've dealt with. I don't know what to tell you about that.”

“I'll handle it.”

“But I want you to know, I'm not comfortable with this.”

“Understood.”

“You have a place to stay?”

“I will.”

“In the city?”

“No. Close by, though.”

“Keep out of Connecticut.”

He stood, put out his hand. She took it.

“I'll call you if I hear anything else,” he said. “You should put that somewhere safe in the meantime.”

“Having second thoughts? That's a lot of money.”

He smiled, shook his head.

“And that,” he said, “is exactly what I'm worried about.”

SIX

Outside Harrisburg, Benny found a pay phone at a gas station, got change from the clerk inside. He'd never owned a cell phone, was always worried someone could use it to track him down, though he didn't even know if that was possible.

He pumped quarters into the phone, looked across the lot to where the Hyundai was parked. Marta brushing her hair in the rearview. It was noon, and she'd slept most of the way, curled against him. His shoulder was still warm. As he dialed, she turned her head, caught him watching her, gave him a smile.

On the fifth ring, a man answered. “Galaxy.”

“Can I speak with Leo?”

“Leo? There's no Leo here.”

“I'm trying to reach Leo Bloomgold, the manager there.”

“I think you got the wrong place.”

“This the Galaxy Lounge in Ozone Park?” He'd gotten the number from information, but was worried now it was the wrong one, a different bar with the same name.

“Yeah,” the man said, “but I don't know no Leo.”

“This the Galaxy on Lefferts Boulevard, near the airport?”

“Last time I looked, yeah.”

“Who's the manager there now? Who's running the joint?”

“Who wants to know?”

Benny sighed. This would be harder than he thought. Realizing again how long he'd been away.

“So you don't know Leo Bloomgold?”

“Do I stutter?”

“He used to run the Golddigger out in Forest Hills, too. You know the place?”

“Never heard of it. Who is this again?”

Benny thumbed the hook switch, listened to coins drop. He looked at his watch. Maybe three more hours before they crossed into Jersey. They'd find someplace to eat around here, then he'd make more calls.

He looked at the traffic rushing by, thought about Rick, probably calling the house right now, wondering where he was. Would he call the police at some point? And Taliferro and the others, where were they now? Had they taken Dominic to a hospital, or left a dead man in his house?

He felt a sudden anger, wanted to smash the receiver against the phone. More than thirty years later, and Joey Dio was still fucking him, only this time from beyond the grave.

He hung up the receiver, forced a smile as he walked back toward the car. Marta leaned over and opened the door for him. She'd tied her hair back in a blue bow. By the time he reached the car, his smile was real.

Look at this, he thought. Sixty-two years old, married and divorced, almost dead more times than he could count, and in love again after all this time. What a world.

*   *   *

It was dark by the time they reached Staten Island. Benny pulled into the first motel they saw, checked in as Leonard Spiegel, the name on his Indiana driver's license and Visa card.

When they were settled in the room, he went out and used the pay phone by the office, a finger in his ear to block out the clank and hum of the vending machines. He used up the rest of his change making calls.

When he returned to the room, Marta was stretched out on the bed, watching TV. She looked at him, picked up the remote, muted the sound.

“Well?” she said.

He slumped down beside her, looked at the screen. “What's this?”

“It's that show I like, where people send in their videos.”

“Oh.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

He felt it all catching up with him then—the stress, the hours of driving. His back was stiff, his neck sore.

“We should go get some dinner,” he said. “Before I fall asleep.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Get a good night's rest, then tomorrow we'll go out, buy whatever things you need. Later on, I have to see someone.”

“Who?”

“My brother-in-law.”

“I didn't know you had one.”

“Technically, I don't. Not anymore.”

Where is he?”

“Bay Ridge.”

“Where's that?”

“Brooklyn. It's not far from here. Just over the bridge.”

“Is it safe to go there?”

He shrugged. “I guess I'm going to find out.”

*   *   *

“Now this,” Hersh said, “I don't believe.”

They were in the back room of the dry cleaning shop, the door closed, the place reeking of chemicals and mothballs. Benny had to move a pile of plastic hangers from a chair before he could sit.

Hersh sat behind his desk. He wore a crisp white shirt with no tie, suspenders, a thin black and gray sweater, unbuttoned. The desktop was covered with papers, pink receipt slips, a brown-bag lunch spread out over the blotter. Benny could smell tuna fish.

“That was a phone call I never thought I'd get,” Hersh said.

“It's good to see you, too.” There was a chime as someone came into the front part of the store, where Lily, Hersh's Korean clerk, was behind the counter. “How are you feeling, Hersh?”

“What's that mean?”

“Your health. How are you doing?”

“You mean the diabetes? I'll probably be blind in two years, but what do you care? And what's with you? You look like shit.”

“I've had a rough couple days.”

“So?”

“Give me a break, Hersh. This isn't easy for me. I wouldn't have called if I didn't need your help. You know that.”

“And I should help you why? You show up here out of nowhere, no one's heard from you in, what, twenty-five years? You waltz in here like nothing's changed?”

“A lot has changed,” Benny said. He took his glasses off, adjusted the frames, put them back on. They were still off center.

“So, what do you have to say for yourself?” Hersh said.

“First of all, I know you're still angry at me.”

“You think so?”

“I'm sorry I wasn't at Rachel's funeral. I wanted to be, but they wouldn't let me. They said it wasn't safe.”

“Whatever. No big deal. She was only your wife, right?”

“I loved that woman, Hersh. She was everything to me.”

“Until you didn't need her anymore.”

“It was her choice to leave. She couldn't take the way we were living anymore. I understand that.”

“On the run, at her age? No family, no friends? No wonder she got sick.”

“She wasn't sick when she left, Hersh. Or if she was, she didn't tell me. That came later.”

“What does that mean? You blame her for leaving? For getting sick?”

“That's not what I said.”

“It sounds like it.”

“Have you heard from Lena or Ethan? Do they keep in touch?”

Hersh sighed, scratched his elbow. “Benny, I don't know what to tell you.”

“They've got a right to hate me. I just need to know they're okay.”

“They're fine. They're adults. They've got their own lives.”

“Are they out here?”

Hersh didn't answer.

“If you talk to them…”

“Benny, I've seen them once or twice the last three years, honest. They're far away from here, both of them.”

“They in school?”

“Ethan is. Lena's married.”

“Kids?”

“One. A boy.”

“So I'm a grandfather.”

Hersh shrugged.

“They don't want to see me,” Benny said. “I understand that. But if they ever change their minds.…”

“Benny, what do you expect me to say?”

“Ten years is a long time, Hersh.”

“And three years since Rachel died. Have you ever once visited her grave?”

“I'm sorry. I haven't exactly been free to go where I please. You have no idea what it was like, the life we were leading. Out there in the middle of nowhere, not knowing anybody. You have no right to criticize.”

“No, I'm only her brother. What right do I have? Why did you call me?”

“Something came up out there, where I was,” Benny said. “I had to leave.”

“What's that mean, ‘Something came up'?”

“Some guys showed up looking for me. There was trouble.”

“What about those people who were protecting you? The FBI, the Sheriff's Department…”

“Marshals Service.”

“Whatever. What about them?”

“Things didn't work out with that.”

“How so?”

“I couldn't live that life anymore, Hersh. Getting dragged all over the country, one trial after another. I left the program.”

“Left or got kicked out?”

“Does it matter?”

“So it's kicked out. You're a born fuckup, you know that? Everything you've had in life, you've fucked up.”

“Don't start.”

“You had your life here, with your Italian friends. Mister Hotshot Gambler, fancy suits, playing the horses, taking bets, fixing basketball games. Top of the world, right? And you fucked that up. Then you had to leave, let the government take care of you, and you fucked that up, too. You had a beautiful wife, two great kids. What happened with that?”

“Yeah, I fucked up. I know that. But things are different now.” He thought about Marta back at the motel, watching TV, waiting for him to come home.

“Why?” Hersh said. “You suddenly get a vision? Wisdom come to you in old age?”

“We're not getting anywhere like this.”

“I'm sorry. Go ahead, speak your piece.”

“These men that came looking for me, they were from Patsy Spinnell's old crew, that worked for Joey Dio.”

Hersh frowned. “Patsy's been dead six, seven years. Maybe longer. Joey Dio's gone now, too.”

“I heard. Patsy's people are still around, though. Danny Taliferro and a couple of his whyos tracked me down.”

“That son of a bitch. How'd they find you?”

“I don't know. I was hoping you might.”

Hersh shook his head. “Even if I'd known, I wouldn't have told them. Not out of love for you, but I wouldn't piss on Danny Taliferro if he was on fire. I had to put up with those guys for years, with their hands in everyone's pockets.”

“You know what's going on, though. You hear word on the street, right? I mean, Brooklyn's still Brooklyn.”

“What are you asking me?”

“Taliferro kept talking about Joey. About the Lufthansa money.”

“You'd know more about that than me.”

“Bullshit. I never saw a cent of it. And I almost got whacked over it anyway.”

“You were Jimmy's friend.”

“The Gent didn't have friends.”

“So, you were what, his half-Jew mascot?”

“Jimmy got greedy. Joe too. They figured it was easier, cheaper to take people out than pay them. I was next on the hit parade. That's why I went away.”

“What you get for messing around with Italians and
schvartzes
. No loyalty. It's all about the money. Jimmy's another one the world won't miss.”

“Taliferro said word on the street was that Joey Dio squirreled away his share of the Lufthansa money. Never touched it.”

“Maybe. Or maybe it's just an urban legend. Brooklyn's full of them.”

“He said now with Joey gone, people might start looking for it. He wanted me to help him. That's why he tracked me down.”

“He come heavy?”

Benny nodded.

“How'd you get away?”

“It wasn't easy. I left them out there, but they'll be back.”

“Then why are you here, of all places?”

“I need to find out if anyone else is looking for me. What the layout is these days. Who my friends are.”

Hersh laced fingers over his stomach, pushed away a little from the desk, chair wheels squeaking. He looked at Benny in silence.

“What?” Benny said.

“You been away a long time.”

“We've been over that.”

“Things have changed. No one who wanted you dead is even around anymore. Joey Dio was the last one, and he's gone now, too. But there's no crews anymore, not the way there were.”

“Hard to feature that.”

“There's still plenty of wiseguys around, sure. But when the bosses kept getting sent away, the whole thing fell apart. It just … What's the word? ‘Devolved.' It's just gangs now. Nickel-and-dime stuff. Gambling, loan sharks, all that, that'll always be around. But the way it used to be? Organized, a chain of command and all that? That's all gone. Everyone's on their own now.”