Naked Greed

46

Ryan and Vinny were back from Virginia by midnight, completely equipped with shotguns, ammo, rubber boots, gloves, and cheap raincoats, along with foul-weather hats and large sunglasses. “It’s supposed to rain tomorrow,” Vinny had said. He had also spotted a costume store in a strip mall near one of the gun shops and had bought a pair of false beards that amused him.

Together in the car for so many hours, Vinny had opened up a bit, and Ryan had grown to like him. He was very comfortable with the idea of walking into that liquor store with him.

Al turned up for his lunch at an Italian restaurant on 17 North, a couple of miles from Sean Finn’s liquor store. The other two present were Merv Zilberg, who owned a big-men’s outlet store, and Joe Monroe, who owned a building supply company.

Sean was late, and Al was worried, until he showed up. They were given a favored table, since Sean was a regular and the restaurant bought wine and liquor from his wholesale operation. He ordered a good bottle of red, then insisted on ordering for everybody. “I know what’s good here,” he said.

“L’chaim,” Merv said, raising his glass, and so did the others. Sean ordered several plates of food, and when they came it was like a buffet.

“So, Al,” Sean said, when everybody was eating, “how’d you spend your cut?”

Al took a minute to think about that, then he put down his fork, took a sip of the wine, and set down his glass. “Exactly what d’ya mean by that, Sean?”

“Your cut from the poker game robbery,” Sean said pleasantly, winking at the others.

“Oh, I bought a couple Cadillacs, a yacht, and a Herbalife franchise,” Al replied, smiling. “What’s your point?”

“You set it up, didn’t you?” Sean asked, and he wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Fellas,” Al said, addressing the group, “anybody here know who the big loser was in the robbery? Let me refresh your memories: I had a big pot going there, and I was holding three aces. Maybe some of you saw my hand when the guy with the shotgun told us to put our hands on the table?”

A couple of them nodded.

“Now, Sean, let me ask you a question: Who was it who introduced the pro dealer into the game — the one with the pistol under his arm?”

“Yeah, Sean,” Merv said. “Who was it did that?”

Sean had not expected to be on the defensive. “I told you, it was better if we had a dealer, instead of doing it ourselves. That way, nobody wonders about the cards he gets.”

“Yeah, Sean,” Al said, “it was you who introduced the ringer.”

“Ringer?” Sean licked his lips.

“The mechanic. I been in enough poker games to know who’s dealing off the top and who isn’t. I reckon the two of you were setting me up for the kill by letting me win a few hands. And your guy was prepared to back his play with a gun, if the going got tough for him and somebody squawked about the cards he was getting. Of course, I had no squawk, since I was getting aces.”

“Now, wait a minute, guys,” Sean said, “you all know me.”

“Yeah, Sean,” Merv said, “we all know you.” Merv just let that lie there. Everybody had gotten very quiet. “Tell us about the ringer — who was he?”

“Just a good cardplayer I know, used to work the Vegas casinos.”

“Is that where he learned to deal off the bottom?” Al asked.

It was at that moment in time when Ryan and Vinny walked into Sean Finn’s liquor store out of a steady rain outside, their yellow raincoats and hats glistening, droplets hanging from their false beards. The two men who had delivered the bank bags had left, and there were no customers in the store.

“Put your hands on the counter and keep them there,” Ryan said, producing a shotgun on a shoulder strap from under his raincoat.

Vinny held his shotgun in one hand and vaulted over the counter with the other. He pushed the two men along the counter, away from the cash register. “Look what we got here,” he said, taking two handguns from under the counter and emptying them, then tossing them into the wine department. He found the three bank bags, too, and put them on the counter.

Ryan grabbed all three handles in one hand and kept the shotgun leveled with the other.

Vinny vaulted back over the counter and stood by the door. “Go ahead, partner, and start the car. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Don’t do anything crazy,” Ryan said. He turned to the two victims. “He gets crazy when people don’t do what he tells them. You don’t want that.”

“We’re not going to give you any problem,” the older of the two men said. “It’s not our money.”

Vinny grabbed the phone on the counter and yanked the cord free of its connection, then threw it into a display of bottles, knocking over a few. “Wait five minutes, then do your duty,” he said. The car pulled up, and Vinny backed out the door of the store and got in.

“Go,” he said.

Everybody was waiting for Sean Finn’s answer to the Vegas question when somebody’s cell phone rang.

“That’s mine,” Finn said. “I’d better get it.”

“Sure, Sean, you get it,” Merv said.

Finn put the phone to his ear. “Sean Finn,” he said. He listened for a minute, then his face fell. “Call nine-one-one,” he said. “I’m on my way.” He put the phone back in his pocket. “Now listen,” he said.

“We’re listening, Sean,” Merv said. “Tell us about your guy from Las Vegas.”

“I really can’t go into that right now,” Finn said. “My store was just robbed. They got the week’s receipts from three stores.” He stood up.

“Maybe your guy from Vegas knows some people who know how to do that sort of thing,” Al said.

“We’ll have to talk about this later,” Finn said, edging around the table toward the exit.

“Let’s don’t talk about it ever again,” Merv said. “That okay with you guys?”

Everybody nodded, including Al.

Sean ran for the door.

“Funny, isn’t it,” Merv said, “how Sean’s phone rang just when it did.”

“You think his store was really robbed?” somebody asked.

“Let’s hope so,” Merv said, and got a laugh. He slapped Al on the shoulder. “You handled that real well, Al.”

“Lunch is on Sean,” Al said. “Eat up.”

When they had finished, Al threw a hundred on the table for the waiter. “Just put the check on Mr. Finn’s tab,” he said to the owner as they left.