Robert B. Parker’s Fallout

Sixty-Five

They were all in Jesse’s living room: Jesse, Tony, his body man, Junior. And his shooter, Ty Bop.

Junior remained the general size of a battleship. Ty Bop, even standing still in his oversized David Ortiz jersey, still seemed twitchy as a hummingbird. Tony, as always, looked as if he’d just come from his tailor. Powder-blue suit today, white shirt, navy tie with polka dots, pocket handkerchief matching the color of his tie. He’d informed Jesse from the car that he was here to collect a favor Jesse owed him, but that they’d get to that.

“Just curious,” Jesse asked Tony now. “Does Junior or Ty Bop drive the Navigator?”

“Ty,” he said.

To Ty Bop Jesse said, “So you passed driver’s ed and everything, Ty? Good for you.”

Ty Bop just fixed him with a sleepy, dead-eyed look, as indifferent as a snake.

“You need to know that Ty here’s where irony goes to die,” Tony Marcus said. “If he hasn’t shot it already.”

“To bring this back to that favor you say I owe you,” Jesse said. “It seems to me that when we last spoke, I suggested I might pay you back someday for the help you gave me on the whole land thing up here, but you told me that you didn’t believe me. And we sort of left it there.”

Marcus smiled. He looked a little thinner than he had when they’d met last year at Buddy’s Fox, the bar and restaurant in downtown Boston that served as his office.

“Also I believe I told you not to appeal to my better angels, on account I got none,” Marcus said. “But I know you got ’em, playing Eliot Ness up here for the Podunk PD.”

Jesse smiled, couldn’t help himself. As dangerous as he knew Tony Marcus was, he could be a funny bastard. Sunny used to say that all the time.

“So what kind of help are you looking for from my better angels?”

“By helping me get Liam Roarke out my shit once and for all,” Marcus said.

“Sorry,” Jesse said. “Can’t help you with Roarke.”

“The fuck you can’t.”

Marcus asked if Jesse had any tea. Jesse told him he had some English breakfast, which he kept in the house for Nellie. Tony said that would be fine, maybe a little cream and sugar if he had it.

When Jesse came back with the tea he said, “If I had something that could help me bust Roarke’s ass, even outside of his, uh, jurisdiction, I’d use it. But I don’t have it.”

“What about what he did to your new Sunny?”

Jesse grinned. Of course he knew.

He watched Tony sip some tea.

High tea with Tony Marcus.

“Can’t prove he was behind it.”

“You know he was. Was me, I’d do something about that.”

“I’m not you.”

Tony sipped more of his tea. At least he didn’t stick out a pinkie.

“Here’s what I know about Roarke,” Marcus said. “He’s getting his nuts squeezed by the Feds.”

“So let them finish the job.”

“When?” Tony Marcus said. “On the twelfth of never?”

“I heard he’s into crypto,” Jesse said.

“Big-time,” Marcus said. “Running as fast as he can before the Feds regulate that shit and take all the fun and profit out of it for guys who do it like Roarke and me do it.”

“Is it worth it,” Jesse said, “turning money over that way?”

“Hell, yeah, if you know what you doing.”

“And he does.”

“Hell, yeah.”

“Why doesn’t Roarke transition to doing it legally?”

Tony Marcus snorted. “Sunny didn’t tell me how fucking funny you are.”

“Tell me what you know,” Jesse said.

“What I hear is that the big white boy is looking to cash out, settle as many scores as he can on his way out the door, then go someplace where the Feds can’t get at him. They froze a lot of his assets already. But the boy ain’t stupid, he began diversifying a few years ago. Farming his shit out, so to speak.”

“He could see how the story was going to end.”

“Everybody calls him the new Whitey Bulger? He didn’t want to end up like Whitey, on the run till they caught him living in some shit place in Santa Monica.”

“Is it worth asking what Roarke might have done?”

“Not might. Did get done. I got that part solid inside my own brain. Just can’t prove it quite yet. You ever get one like that?”

“Right now. Maybe more than one before I’m through.”

“Listen up here,” Marcus said. “A few months ago, I beat him out of a building we was both after, the South End. I ended up with it. Till it got torched; somebody knew what he was doing. One of my troopers, over there checking it out, didn’t make it out in time. Boy I was quite fond of, you must know. Up-and-comer.”

He sipped more tea. “But I got to be sure, ’fore I start a Mob war with the wrong guy. There was some others in the bidding, so to speak. Coulda been them. I just don’t think it was.” He grinned. “Haven’t concluded my investigation yet.”

“So many gangsters, so little time.”

“Tell me about it,” Tony said.

“If you’re just waiting to nail him yourself eventually, why do you need me?”

“He’s in the way of a new thing I got going, another part of town. I’m thinking that if you can light him up, it might pre-cip-i-tate him getting out of the way, and I don’t have to get my hands dirty if I don’t have to. Or till I’m ready to.”

“You live a complicated life, Tony.”

“You got no idea.”

“But I have to say it seems to be working for you.”

“All’s I’m saying is, you already lit Roarke up once, without hardly trying. What would it hurt you did it again?”

“It’s a gift,” Jesse said. “Something I try to be a force for good.”

Marcus shook his head. “You talk the same kind of shit as Sunny. Care to tell me how you made a mess of that with her?”

“No.”

Then Jesse said: “Why would you move on Roarke later rather than sooner?”

“Next time you talk to Sunny Randall, if you do, ask her what I told her one time about how you handle a damn grudge.” He paused. “You wait.”

Jesse waited. “But sounds like you want me to settle my grudge with him sooner rather than later.”

Tony flashed him a big smile now. “You said it already. I’m one complicated motherfucker.”

Marcus stood now and looked down at his suit, for possible wrinkles. Flicked what Jesse was sure was imaginary lint off a lapel for effect.

“And you do owe me,” Marcus said.

“Sure,” Jesse said. “Go with that.”

“Just givin’ you a heads-up, case you need it,” Marcus said. “Roarke don’t look crazy. But is all kinds of crazy. He don’t believe in just getting even, you cross him. Ain’t no even with him.”

Ty Bop had already opened the door. Tony Marcus got there and turned.

“All’s I’m asking you to do, even having laid out the risk, is what I hear comes naturally to you,” Marcus said.

“And what might that be?”

“Fuck with him a little.”

Marcus smiled again.

“Or a lot, as the situation warrants.”