The Weight (42 page)

“It’s all yours,” Lynda whispered.

When I came out of the shower, Lynda was lying facedown on the bed, dead to the world. She was wearing a sweatsuit, with socks on her feet. I could see the bedspread in the corner, where she must
have thrown it. One of my T-shirts was between her face and the pillow.

There was a T-shirt over my pillow, too.

We were back on I-95 by six the next night. I turned the rental in at Newark Airport. Lynda waited on a bench around the corner.

That’s the same reason we took the PATH train to Penn Station. Lynda did the best she could, but I was still loaded like a pack mule when I checked into the nearest hotel I could find.

The girl at the front desk worked real hard to convince me, doing her job even when she saw I’d walked in with all that luggage. So I told her, “Yeah, I sure could use some help getting all this into my room.”

“Suite,” she said.

I almost said something stupid until I realized what she meant.

The bellman helped me get all our stuff into the room. Suite, I mean—it was like another little apartment. No point being cheap with that credit card now.

I sat there waiting. It wasn’t long before my cell phone made a noise. I didn’t bother picking up the call, just went by the door and opened it a crack. Lynda already knew what room I was in—I had texted her the number. She came down the hall like she owned the joint.

I locked the door. Lynda was strolling around the place, checking it out. “Very nice,” she said.

“Don’t get used to it,” I told her.

I ordered for two from Room Service, letting the girl who took the order hear me ask Lynda what kind of dressing she wanted on her salad.

I let the guy who brought the food up get a good look at Lynda while he was working me for a tip, describing each dish as he pulled off the metal tops like he was doing a magic trick.

“They really give you the tips off credit cards?” I asked him, looking at the leather-covered bill he’d handed me with a little flourish.

He didn’t say anything, just shook his head.

“Guys like you and me, we know how things work, right?” I told him, shifting my eyes over to where Lynda was posing in her high-class-hooker outfit. I handed him a pair of twenties.

“Yes,
sir
!” he said. “When you want the tray picked up, just call Room Service. I’ll make sure—”

“Uh, I’m gonna be kind of busy, pal. I’ll just leave it outside when we’re done, how’s that?”

“Oh, absolutely, sir. Why don’t I leave the serving cart right here? That way, you can just push it outside whenever you wish.”

The hotel had entrances on two different blocks. The front desk was on the fancy-street side. I just walked down the stairs to the fifth floor, rang for the elevator, and stepped off to my right. Nobody paid any attention. People who want to be noticed make sure they hang out in the front lobby; it’s all set up for that, with couches and a little bar and everything.

The subway was perfect. Like in any bad neighborhood, nobody sees nothing.

“You got the—?”

“I got it all.”

“How far away are you?”

“Too far to walk. But on the subway, maybe forty-five minutes.”

“So I’ll see you soon, Jerome?”

“That was my plan, too. Only I have to stop by the office first.”

“This place is completely—”

“Maybe for you. Not for me.”

I hoped Solly was thinking about all those security cameras in his condo that he’d told me about.

“What say I meet you at the office, then? I can make it all … suitable. We can have a drink there, talk things over?”

“I’m on my way.”

I watched the alley for almost an hour. No sign of Solly. So he’d been in his office all the time, just like I figured.

Okay.

I played blackjack on the door. When I heard the heavy clunk of the deadbolt, I stepped into the darkness.

A soft light came on. Solly, behind his desk.

“Sugar!” he said, standing up.

I came around the desk so he could give me a hug. Then I sat down across from him in the guest chair. It wasn’t a partners desk.

“So?”

I took out Albie’s little blue book. Slid it across the desk like I was dealing out a card.

Solly scooped it up while it was still moving. Took a quick look. “You never miss, Sugar,” he said. “This is perfect.”

“There’s more.”

“You mean …?”

“Show me the tape first.”

“Tape? What tape?”

“I know you’ve got me on video, coming here. Time and date stamped, all that. So I figure maybe Solly’s got his office miked, too. Like you’re always saying …”

He smiled like he was proud of me for being such a good listener.

“You didn’t get what I said about making the place suitable? Or you didn’t believe it? Eh,
macht nit
. Go over to the bookcase on your left. The one with the thick pillars for sides.”

I got up and did that. The pillars had Jewish writing carved into them, like on Albie’s prayer bag. They looked real old, like they were made before people nailed boards together.

“Crouch down. Second shelf from the bottom. See the green book,
Basic Accounting?
Pull it out. Good. Now reach in and feel around for a little bump. Yeah? Just push on it, kid.”

I heard a
thunk!
on the side of the bookcase. I went over there. The right side of the whole pillar had dropped.
Same way Albie had his desk rigged
, I thought. Bolted to the wood was a pair of metal boxes.

“Top one is video, bottom is audio.”

“This is fucking amazing, Solly.”

“Well, now you know my secret, kid. I trusted you with that, I hope you’ll trust me when I tell you that, knowing you were coming, I turned everything off a half-hour ago, just like I said I would. You’re not being taped now, and every tape I ever had of you, it was shredded a long time ago.”

“I trust you, Solly,” I said. Then I walked back to the desk.

“That means a lot to me, Sugar.”

“Besides, I’m going to tell you what happened down there. How I did exactly what you told me to do. So, even if there
is
a tape, it’s not gonna be one you’d want to show anybody.”

“You’re a real piece of work, kid. How about something to take the edge off your nerves?”

“No thanks, Solly.”

“I wasn’t talking about booze. For your nerves, I got something much better.”

“I don’t want any—”

“Jesus. You think
everyone
don’t know you’re a health freak? All you got to do is
listen
. You can do that, right?”

“Sure.”

“Try this, then. I, me, Solly, I planned the jewelry heist. When you got out, I asked you to do a couple of things for me. So, if this Jessop got his ticket punched, that’s on me, too. Think I’d put
that
on tape, kid?”

“I sure don’t. Okay, Solly. But what you said, that’s only half.”

“You had to—?”

“Kill the broad? Yeah, I did. You told her about that desk. What do you think was in it?”

“A few mil.”

“Just a note, Solly.”

“A what?!”

“A note. From Albie to her. Something about how she had to run away. Fast.
With
the book. The book, it was supposed to prove you were some kind of ‘traitor,’ only that part wasn’t for her. I couldn’t make any sense out of it.”

“So? Give it to me and—”

“That’s what I said to her, Solly. Only she wouldn’t.”

“So she’s …”

“I didn’t have any choice.”

“I understand. I would have done the same thing. Albie, he must have been going soft. In the head, I mean. Like Alzheimer’s, you heard of that, right? Crazy old man, he could have said damn near anything.”

“I didn’t want to do any of that.”

“Jessop, he didn’t give you any choice, either?”

“Choice,
fuck
! You know where he lived? Right in that same town. And you know who told me that? Rena.”

“Her and him?”

“You got it. They were playing Albie like a fiddle.”

“I
knew
he was over the edge.
Had
to be. What a lousy way for a man like him to go out, wearing the horns.”

“I guess. Anyway, once I got her to tell me where I could find him, the minute I—”

“Wait,” Solly said, holding up his palm like a traffic cop. “Why did she tell you all this?”

“As soon as that note popped out, she knew she was going anyway. Come on, she knew who sent me, right? So I told her I could make it easy … or real, real hard.”

“She didn’t try to—”

“Sure. Probably thought it worked, too.”

“Ah! You’re a lot deeper than people take you for, Sugar.”

“Nobody needs to know that besides you, Solly.”

“Nobody ever will, kid.”

“Anyway, I go over to where this Jessop was living. Cheap dump. I wait for him to get back from wherever he was. Can’t miss
him. He drives a red Corvette. Some pro, huh? As he’s getting out, I walk up to him. I got my hands open at my sides, so he can see I’m not carrying.

“He
was, though. I got to him just as he was reaching for it.”

“Not much of a conversation, huh?”

“He won’t be having
any
conversations anymore. That’s what we wanted to be sure of, right?”