The Strangler

33

With a machinelike shuffle, Fish counted tens and twenties from a roll. At one hundred dollars, he would shift the pile to one side, moisten the pad of his thumb with his tongue, and riffle out another. His dexterity was surprising. Fish looked old and gristly. The skin on his hands was spotted parchment. His fingernails were overgrown to the point of dangerousness. But there was something magical in the way those hands spun out bills into ten neat piles, recombined them, and handed the stack to Joe Daley.

“Thank you.”

“Hope your new boss chokes on it. That’s between you and me.” Fish watched the money disappear into Joe’s pants pocket and made a sour little frown. “Make sure it gets where it’s going.”

“How about I do my job, you do yours?”

“I’m just sayin’. Remember whose money that is in your pocket.”

“Pretty strange, huh? You putting money in my pocket for a change.”

“I seen stranger.”

“Well, it’s strange to me.”

“You’ll get used to it. You’re a natural.”

“Hey, what are you always breaking my balls? What’d I ever-?”

“You just took my hard-earned money. You want I should thank you?”

“Come on, Fish, this is just business. I don’t like it any more than you do.”

“You like it fine.”

“Oh, you know this.”

“I got eyes, I can see.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

“I been doing this a long time,” Fish shrugged, “but…” Whatever you say.

“Anyways, this isn’t about me. If it wasn’t me sitting here, it’d be somebody else.”

“But it is you sitting here. That’s the point.”

“That’s right, it’s me sitting here, so how about you just treat me like a professional and we’ll get this over with. Unbelievable. Like I don’t have enough on my mind without this shit from you. Jesus, as if I haven’t given you enough money all these years. That doesn’t count for nothing?”

“You think I keep all that? I don’t keep it. You people bet against each other-the losers pay the winners. That’s the way it works. I’m just the matchmaker. You want to know where your money went, go find somebody who won that day. I don’t have it. Alls I keep is the juice. It’s nothing, crumbs.”

“Charlie Capobianco does okay with crumbs.”

“Volume.”

“Well, anyways, you took a lot of crumbs off of me.”

“So now you get to take some back. Funny, huh, Detective?”

“I said, that’s enough with that, Fish. I didn’t tell you to go get in this business.”

“I was going to say the same thing to you.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have a whole lot of choice.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

“There’s things you don’t know, Fish.”

“You’d be surprised. Hey, you are what you are, is all I’m saying. Your father must be spinning in his grave.”

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth.” Joe reached across the table and tamped his finger against Fish’s chest as if he were pushing a stubborn button there. “I’m not gonna tell you again. It’s enough with that. Am I going to have to hear this crap every week?”

“No. Guess I said my piece.”