Night Work

CHAPTER 15

Gus tried his best to brush the lint and debris from his shirt and slacks, then straightened his glasses and studied his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He held up two ties, selected the one with the fewer stains, and clipped it into place under his shirt collar. Squeezing a gob of toothpaste into his hand, he dabbed at it then brushed his teeth with his index finger.

His father was sitting at the kitchen table staring into one of his crossword puzzle books. He coughed, scratched his chest, and looked up at his son as he entered the room.

"Why are you wearing that robe?" Gus asked.

"This isn't your robe."

"I bought you a heavy one for winter," Gus reminded him. "Where'd you put it? Remember the blue one I got you?"

"Gus," he said, looking down at his book. "What's a – "

"Hold on. How do I look?"

" – six-letter word for trip?"

"Never mind," Gus said, grabbing his jacket off the back of a chair. "Can't even answer a simple goddamn question."

His father shook his head. "That's a tough one."

"Do you think you can listen to me for a second?" Gus crouched down next to the chair. "I gotta go pick up Kathy. You remember Kathy, right?"

"I don't know no Kathy."

Gus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Anyway, I gotta go pick her up and bring her back here, okay? I'll only be gone a couple minutes."

"Let's have soup."

"Soup? Dad, it's seven o'clock in the fucking morning, what's wrong with you?"

He smiled. "I especially like vegetable soup."

Gus stood up and lit a cigarette. "I'll get you a can on the way back. Don't turn on the stove, you hear me?"

"Can't make soup without turning on the stove," he said. "What's a six-letter word for trip, Gus?"

"Voyage."

His father counted the boxes with his finger, his lips moving silently. "Yeah. Voyage."

"I'll be right back." Gus leaned over and kissed his father on the top of his head. "Stay away from the stove. I mean it, ya crazy bastard."

The old man moaned and waved his book at him. "Piss up a rope."

Gus raced across the city, parked out in front of Kathleen's apartment and hit the horn. She appeared a few minutes later and groggily climbed in next to him.

"This is the last time we meet before ten," she said through a sigh. "You don't seem to understand how late I get in at night."

"I know, I know." Gus smiled. "But this is a special day and I couldn't wait all morning."

Kathleen rubbed her eyes. "What's so special about today?"

"You're about to find out." He winked at her playfully. "I'll bet you've probably already guessed."

"Nope." She yawned. "But do you have to tell me here? I really need some coffee."

"In a minute." Gus removed something from his jacket pocket but kept it hidden in his hand. "Kathy, you know how I feel about you, right?"

"Sure."

Gus cleared his throat nervously. "I've given this a lot of thought, and anyway, I figure I'm not getting any younger." He thrust a small box at her and blurted, "I want to spend the rest of my life with you." She stared at him blankly and he smiled. "Go ahead, open it."

Kathleen reluctantly took the box and flipped it open to reveal a ring with a stone too enormous to be real. She looked at him and shrugged. "What's this supposed to be?"

"Will you marry me?" He hadn't finished the sentence when she burst into laughter. Initially, Gus joined her, mistaking her reaction for joy, but it soon became evident that she was laughing at him. "What's so funny?"

"You're fucking joking, right?"

"Of course not." He frowned. "Why would I joke about something like this?"

"It's not even a real diamond."

"Yes it is."

"What'd it cost, a million dollars?" She laughed again and handed it back to him. "I'm smart enough to know the difference between a real diamond and a fake one."

Gus felt his face blush. "Well, it's not exactly a real diamond, but – "

"I can't marry you, Gus." She suppressed another laugh and rolled her eyes. "I don't think of you that way."

"What the hell way do you think of me? We've been going out with each other for more than a year now."

Kathleen sighed heavily. "Gus, you pay me to go out with you. You're a steady customer. Is there something seriously fucking wrong with you, or what? Whatever gave you the idea I'd wanna marry you? For Christ's sake, I'm a prostitute."

"I don't understand," he said quietly. "You said you cared for me – "

"I'll say I want to have your kids if you pay me enough."

Something tapped the glass on the driver's side window.

Startled, Kathleen jumped. "Fuck, is that a cop?"

"Don't worry, we're not doing anything wrong." Gus turned and saw a fat man in a suit and trench coat standing next to the car. "I'm right in the middle of some personal business here, all right, pal?" The man smiled and tapped the glass again. Gus rolled down the window, felt the cold air rush in. "We're having a conversation here, there something I can do for you, buddy?"

"Gus Lemieux, right?" the man asked happily.

"That's right. Who's asking?"

"Vincent told me to give you this."

By the time Gus realized the man had leveled a gun at him it was too late.

It made an odd buzzing sound as the bullet fired through the chamber and out the end of the silencer, piercing Gus's forehead.

Blood, tissue and brain matter sprayed out the back of his head as it exploded. Most of it landed in Kathleen's lap, and as she opened her mouth to scream the man leaned in closer and fired a round between her eyes.

Kathleen's head snapped back in a halo of blood, crashed against the window and shattered it.

Gus was making disturbing gurgling sounds. He convulsed, and bright red blood poured from his lips, coating his chin. Vic DeNicco calmly slid more than an inch of the silencer into his victim's already open mouth, and pulled the trigger again. The body vaulted back then lurched forward, and Gus hit his forehead on the steering wheel, his wig sliding from his head as he slumped over between the passenger seat and dashboard.

After he had holstered the gun, Vic removed a brick of heroin wrapped in plastic from his coat pocket, tore it open with gloved hands, and tossed it into the car.

A black Lincoln Continental silently glided up alongside the GMC Jimmy. Vic DeNicco climbed inside, and they pulled away, slowing for a stop sign before turning at the top of the block.

Frank had eventually managed to fall asleep, but only in short spurts. Harsh morning light poked through the holes and slashes in the window shade, and the sounds of the city slowly coming to life convinced him to at least entertain the idea of getting up, splashing some water on his face and venturing out in search of coffee.

His beeper went off, and he sat up straight in bed. Still attached to his belt, he pulled it free and quickly read the numbers as they rolled across the digital display. Odd, he thought, recognizing the office number.

He went to the payphone in the lobby and returned the call, convincing himself that if it were some elaborate trick, he would simply hang up and find somewhere else to hide. One night at the Wellington Hotel was more than enough.

"Good morning," Vincent's voice answered cheerfully. "Entertainment Enterprises."

"Good morning," Frank said reluctantly.

"Frank! Man, are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"Come on in. Everything's been taken care of."

Frank glanced over his shoulder at the empty lobby. "That was quick. What happened?"

"I can go into detail once you get here," he said. "But I spoke to Michael and he managed to straighten things out. I also found Gus. I ran into him and that broad at his house."

"And?"

"I was wrong, Frank." Vincent breathed heavily into the phone. "I'm sorry."

"I knew it," Frank said, managing a smile.

"Our leak came from somewhere else. I've got a few ideas, but we'll cover that when you land."

"Where's Gus now?"

"He's meeting us here in a few minutes," Vincent told him. "So get here as fast as you can. There's still a few loose ends we need to take care of, know what I mean?"

Frank nodded into the phone. "I'll be there in about an hour."

"Great," Vincent said smoothly. "I'll be waiting."