Curse of the Jade Lily (Mac McKenzie #9)

Curse of the Jade Lily (Mac McKenzie #9) Page 90

“Are you having fun, Herzy?” I asked. “Are you glad I called you?”

“What a dumb fuck he was, Tarpley,” he said. “No wonder he got iced. Once they had the plan, the wife and Dennis, they didn’ need ’im no more. Fucker shoulda saw it comin’.”

“What makes you think Von and Dennis killed him?”

The question caught him by surprise.

“You sayin’ they didn’t?” Herzog asked.

“The possibilities are endless.”

“How we gonna find out for sure?”

“That’s a job for the police, isn’t it?”

“Fuck that.”

“We can tie them both to the Lily right now. The only thing that connects either Von or Dennis to the murder of Tarpley and the cop, though, is the gun. The fact they didn’t toss it after the first killing means they probably kept it after the second one.”

“How you gonna git ’em to show us the gun?”

I didn’t answer.

“McKenzie?”

Herzog swiveled his head from the street to me to the street and back again.

“You fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” he said.

“What do you think I’m paying you ten thousand dollars for? My health?”

Well, yes, actually, it is your health you’re paying for, my inner voice said.

I pried my cell out of my pocket and started searching through my contact list with my free hand. I’ve seen kids send elaborate text messages one-handed while playing soccer, yet I could barely make a phone call. Finally I managed to reach my party.

“Major Crimes,” Bobby said. “Commander Dunston.”

I tried to make my voice sound like a doddering old woman. “Is this the police?”

“McKenzie, your voice sounds kinda funny. Did they blow your brains out?”

“All right, all right.”

“Seriously, how are you?”

“I will recover—more or less.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to visit you in the hospital.”

“Believe me, you didn’t miss much.”

“Everybody over here was worried about you, except Victoria, of course. She thinks you’re indestructible.”

“She’s mistaken.”

“So, what’s going on?”

“I need a favor.”

“Let’s not start that again.”

“It’s police business,” I said. “Granted it’s Minneapolis police business. Still…”

“Why not call Minneapolis, then?”

“You know how impetuous Lieutenant Rask can be.”

“Oh? Are you afraid he might actually go out and do his job?”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

“I hate this. I hate doing favors for you, and yet I keep doing them. What is wrong with me?”

I changed the sound of my voice again. “Luke, give in to the power of the dark side.”

“Is that supposed to be James Earl Jones? You know, I saw James Earl Jones on the stage. He was playing Othello to Christopher Plummer’s Iago. It was the best thing I ever saw in the theater, and McKenzie—you’re no James Earl Jones.”

“Who is?”

“What do you want?”

I recited the license plate of the Toyota RAV4 I saw outside Von Tarpley’s house.

“Must I remind you yet again that this information is available to the general public for a small fee through the Driver and Vehicle Services Division of the Minnesota Department of Public Safety?”

“You know how bureaucracies are. I have to provide signatures and written consents and whatnot. Besides, they’re closed.”

“Hang on.”

Five minutes later Bobby gave me the name the SUV was registered to—India Cooper—and an address in South Minneapolis. She had no record of any kind.

I thanked Bobby and said I’d see him soon. I caught Herzog staring at me out of the corner of his eye as I pocketed the cell phone.

“Well?” he said.

“Well what?”

“Wha’d he say?”

“The problem with asking a lot of questions, Herzy, you sometimes get answers you don’t want to hear.”

SIXTEEN

I bought Herzog a steak at Mancini’s on West Seventh Street in St. Paul, not far from the Xcel Energy Center, where the Wild played hockey. It wasn’t a game night, so we had no trouble securing a table for two. In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the swiftest move I’d made that day. You’re not going to find a more tender sirloin anywhere in the Northern Hemisphere than at Mancini’s. On the other hand, they’re not so tender that you can cut them with a fork. After a few minutes of watching me struggle, Herzog took my plate and cut the meat for me.

“Chew before you swallow,” he said when he gave it back.