25.
Jesse brought Molly with him. They were all together in the living room. Jesse standing by the door. Molly in the opposite corner so Crow wouldn’t be able to shoot them both together. Crow sat on a reversed straight chair, his arms folded across the back. Alice’s face was red from Crow’s slap, and her heavy black eye makeup had run when she cried.
“Can we talk off the record?” Crow said.
“I don’t see why we should,” Jesse said.
“Guy named Louis Francisco,” Crow said. “Lives in Palm Beach. Does business all over South Florida. He’s very, very important in South Florida. Miami, all over. He’s married to this woman, calls herself Frances Franklin, but her real name’s Fiona. Fiona Francisco. Kid here, looks kind of like Alice Cooper, is his daughter. She goes by Alice Franklin around here. But her real name’s Amber Francisco.”
Jesse didn’t comment. He waited, leaning on the wall, his arms folded across his chest. In the opposite corner, Molly was watching both women as Crow talked.
“One day, about three years ago, in the middle of the afternoon, Mrs. Francisco”—Crow nodded toward her—“and the kid disappear. Francisco’s upset. He don’t care too much about Fiona. But he wants the kid.”
Crow paused for a moment, thinking about what he’d say next. No one else said anything.
“So,” Crow said, “think about it. You’re Louis Francisco. You don’t know where your daughter is. And you don’t know who’s got her, or so you say. But you not only want her back but you probably want to get her away from her mother, whom you consider a bad influence.”
“He should talk,” Fiona Francisco said.
No one paid her any attention.
“What do you do?” Crow said. “You probably hire somebody to find her. Now suppose he did, hypothetically, hire somebody. And suppose the guy found them. And he calls Louis and tells him and Louis says kill the mother, bring the girl to me.”
“He would say that,” Fiona said. “The prick.”
“I’m not going back,” Amber Francisco said.
“And here’s the kicker,” Crow said. “This hypothetical guy doesn’t want to do it. He doesn’t want to kill the mother and he doesn’t want to drag the daughter down to Florida.”
“Why?” Jesse said.
“Guy’s got his reasons,” Crow said. “But hypothetically, he’s already annoyed the hell out of the members of a Latino gang in Marshport. And Louis won’t be too thrilled with this hypothetical guy, who took a lot of dough up front from Louis and is now not doing what he was signed up for.”
“So why doesn’t our hypothetical friend tuck his hypothetical ass under him and scoot?” Jesse said.
“Probably wouldn’t be his style,” Crow said.
“And he doesn’t quite want to bail on these women,” Jesse said.
“Something like that,” Crow said. “If he was an actual guy.”
Jesse was nodding his head slowly. Crow waited.
“Okay,” Jesse said. “I can’t stand this hypothetical crap anymore. We’re off the record.”
“Which means?” Crow said.
“Which means I won’t use anything you say against you,” Jesse said.
Crow looked at him for a time.
“Good,” Crow said.
“So you got Louis Francisco on your ass,” Jesse said, “and I assume he has a lot of resources for getting on your ass.”
“He does,” Crow said. “On the other hand, I got kind of a hard ass.”
From across the room, Molly said, “Uh-huh!”
Crow looked at her and grinned.
“And,” Jesse said, “you got a Latino gang on your ass for a reason not yet specified.”
“Correct.”
“And you want me to keep track of these women while you deal with your other problems.”
“Correct.”
Jesse was quiet for a moment.
Then he said, “What’s in this for me?”
“Do the right thing?” Crow said.
Jesse stared at him.
“Crow,” Jesse said, “how many people you killed in your life?”
“It’s bush to count,” Crow said.
“And you think I’ll do it because it’s the right thing to do?”
“Yeah.”
“What makes you so sure.”
“It’s the way you are,” Crow said.
“How the hell do you know the way I am?” Jesse said.
“I know,” Crow said.
Again, a pause.
Then Jesse said, “Yeah, you probably do.”