The Maine Events, Rodney Riesel [best books to read in your 20s TXT] 📗

off.”

“Who's Mya Duffy?”

“The hostess at Stones Throw.”

“Ya mean, that broad you been tryin' to bang?”

“Um … yeah.”

“She saw them with my paper.”

“Yes—well, maybe.”

“Musta blowed off the table.”

“That was my thought.”

“And those little bastards picked it up.”

“Yes.”

Jordan grinned and shook his head. “I knew there wassomething I liked about that dog walker. He knew that paper was mine. He lookedme straight in the eye and asked who Mr. Strong was. The little shit waspumpin' me for information.”

“And then I saw them later that day—after they were atStones Throw—reading the paper.”

Jordan shrugged. “Ain't great readin',” he said.

“What was on the paper?”

“I told ya that was none of your concern. Besides, themhaving that piece of paper don't pose no danger to them. They wouldn't evenknow what it was, and neither would anyone else.”

“Except you and Vinny.”

“That's right.”

“If it's not important, then what is it?”

“I didn't say it wasn't important. I said it was nothing tothem, or anyone else who might look at it. The only people that note meantanything to was me and Vinny.”

“So, you don't want it back now?”

“Nope. Too late.”

“Too late for what?”

“Can't tell ya.”

There was a knock at the door and it opened a few inches.

“Mr. Jordan, I'm takin' off,” Doris said.

“Okay, Doris. Lock the door on your way out.”

“Yep.” She shot Allen a half-assed smile and pulled the doorclosed.

“We'll go out the back door,” said Jordan.

Allen nodded. “Doris is pretty quick with that pistol,” hesaid.

“Sometimes ya gotta be in this business.”

“Properties?”

Jordan looked momentarily puzzled, then grinned slyly. “Oh,yeah, properties, like the sign says. Is there anything else I can do for you,Crane?”

“If you're not going to tell me what was on that note, thenno, I guess not.”

Jordan clapped his hands together. “Okay then, we'll wrapthis meeting up.”

Allen started to stand. “Wait,” said Jordan.

Allen sat back down.

Jordan pulled open his desk drawer. Allen prepared himselfto look down the barrel of another gun, but instead, Jordan pulled out twocigars. He tossed one across the desk; it rolled to the edge.

“I know you like cigars,” Jordan said. “Try that one.”

Allen picked up the cigar and read the band. “Arturo FuenteOpus X. This is a fifty dollar cigar.”

Jordan tossed a lighter and punch onto the desk. “Light up.”He pulled an ashtray out of the same drawer and laid it on the desk halfwaybetween them. Then he leaned over and opened a door in the right side of thedesk. He reached inside and took out a bottle of Booker's Bourbon, and placedthat on the desk, along with two rocks glasses.

“Geez,” Allen said, as he unwrapped his cigar, “propertiesreally pays well.”

“Yes it does.”

Jordan poured them each two fingers and put the bottle away.They both lit their cigars and blew the smoke slowly into the air.

“Wow,” Allen said, “that is really good.” He took anotherdrag, and this time held the smoke in his mouth a little longer.

Jordan lit his stick, had a puff, and picked up his glass.“What should we drink to, Crane?”

Allen lifted his glass. “How about we drink to Jacob, andhoping that he's okay.”

“Good idea. Here's blood in your eye.”

“You mean mud.”

That sly grin again. “Maybe.”

The two men clinked their glasses together.

“The cops have no leads?” Jordan asked.

“There've been a few calls to the tip line, but none of themamounted to anything.”

“And the other boy, what did the autopsy show?”

“Head trauma, broken arm, dislocated shoulder. Looks like hewas beaten pretty bad, and then just dumped there behind the school.”

“He wasn't killed there.”

“No.”

“And no sign of the other boy, ya say?”

“Nothing.”

“I don't know how a parent can survive something like that,”Jordan said.

“Me neither.”

“You lost your wife awhile back.”

“Yes.”

“I looked you up on the interweb. Said she died of cancer.”

“That's right.” Allen sipped his bourbon.

“How long from the time she found out she had it till shedied?”

“Not long enough.”

Jordan turned his head and gazed out the window. “The big Ctook my stepdad down in nine months. He was a big man. Went from 350 poundsdown to 175 in those few months. The last month I wanted to put a bullet in hishead just to put him out of his misery.”

“It's tough to watch someone you love die like that.”

“Love? My old man was a fuckin' prick. A real son of abitch. The only thing me and my brother ever agreed on was how much we hatedthat bastard.”

Allen tried his hardest not to laugh, but he couldn't holdback the snort. “Sorry,” he said. “I don't mean to laugh.”

Jordan waved him off. “Don't worry about it.”

“Do you have any contact with your biological father, if youdon't mind me asking?”

“My real dad was gunned down right outside a Wegmans when Iwas only a year old.”

“Sorry about that.”

“You didn't do it.”

“I probably wasn't born yet.”

“The perfect alibi,” Jordan said. “A buddy of mine back inJersey got me a copy of the police report. Witnesses said my dad walked out ofthe store with two bags of groceries in his arms. Someone called out his name.He stopped and turned around. The gunman put three in his chest, and when hewent down”—Jordan cocked and fired a finger gun—“pow! A fourth an fatal one inthe back of his head.”

“That's horrible.”

“I always wonder what my life would be like now if he haddalived.”

“The friend that got you the copy of the police report, washe a cop?” Allen asked.

Jordan delivered another one of his signature sly grins.“Yes, he was, Crane.”

Allen sipped his bourbon, puffed on his cigar a few times,and contemplated his next question.

“What are ya thinkin' about, Crane?” Jordan asked.

“A lot of things.”

“I told you before, you can ask any question you want, butthat doesn't mean I'll give you an answer.”

“Does Jim Tucker work for you?”

“Where did that come from?”

“I know he was a cop in Boston. I also know you have a fewbusiness interests in Boston. Tucker moved back here to his hometown around thesame time you, your mother, and your brother moved here. Sergeant Rose told meyour family has always been one step ahead of the cops. That would be a loteasier if one of them worked for you.”

“You put all that together