Lucky Break (31 page)

“Who?”

“Mrs. Morales, Eddy V’s money man.”

A happy look settled over Squash’s face as he hummed a snatch of a catchy tune.
 
Silly man.
 
Clearly he had never met Mrs. Morales.
 

I hid the Ferrari around the corner.
 
Even if I didn’t hold the pink slip, flashing that kind of bling wouldn’t help our side.
 
Squash took the lead as we pushed through the glass door, a single bell announcing our presence.
 
The front desk stood empty, as were the offices we could see.
 
Cheap, mismatched furniture, two chairs, a square coffee table, and a fake plant so old the leaves were faded white decorated the waiting area.

“No expense spared.”

Squash ignored me, preferring to follow his nose.
 
“Dear God, what is that smell?”
 

We found Eddie V and Mrs. Morales seated at a round laminated table, the laminate so thin in spots the particleboard showed through.
 
A fridge groaned and hissed in the corner, leaking Freon.
 
A ptomaine breeding ground.
 

Mrs. Morales was a large woman—so large that I couldn’t think of an adjective that sufficed, so I went with the catch-all.
 
She glared at us from under a unibrow.
 
Eddy glanced at us, a hopeful expression which flared as recognition dawned on his nondescript face.
 
Eddy was one of those guys who just seemed like there was nothing at all distinguishing about him—sort of the wallpaper of life.
 
He had slicked down hair and an oily manner to match.
 
“You here to bail out your boyfriend?” a question that sounded like a statement of fact.

My stomach roiled a bit as I watched him stuff a bit of fried mystery meat into his mouth, then slowly lick his stubby fingers.
 
“Depends.
 
He’s not my boyfriend, so I don’t have a lot of skin in this game. And there’re lots of guys like you lining up to write this paper.”

He dabbed at his mouth. “Let’s talk turkey.”
 
He pulled out the chair next to him.

Ignoring his gesture, I remained standing.
 
“You want to talk a million over … that?”
 
I nodded to the pile of whatever-it-was, the grease soaking through a thick layer of paper towel underneath.
 

“Want some?”
 
Eddie V asked, clearly immune to insult.
 
“Your father did bigger business on the back of a napkin.”

He had a point.
 
I pulled out a chair.
 
Delicate sensibilities had no place at Eddie V’s table.

Squash honed in on Mrs. Morales, remaining outwardly unfazed.
 
Ignoring Survival Rule Number One: never get between a wild animal and its food, he leaned over the bowl in front of her and breathed deep.
 
I’d seen Mrs. Morales in action—she once hefted a guy who’d jumped bail and missed his hearing over her shoulder, tossed him into the bed of her pickup and drove him to the courthouse herself.
 
Badass to the bone.
 

“Green chili.
 
My favorite,” Squash said, a reverent tone sneaking into his suck-up.
 
“You could put that stuff on shoe leather and I’d consider it a feast.”
 
He gave Mrs. Morales a golly-gee-whizz kind of look.
 

I threw up a little in the back of my mouth.
 
While I prided myself on having good game, I had my standards.
 
So I remained on the sidelines, even though Eddy V was drooling.
 
His lunch couldn’t have caused that, so it must’ve been the thought of a million-dollar bond.
 
Stewing in his own juice for a bit would soften him up.
 
Yep, never met a metaphor I didn’t enjoy torturing.

“You made that yourself, didn’t you?” Squash asked.

Mrs. Morales actually beamed as she nodded.
 
“Do you want some?”

“Really?” Squash gushed.
 
“I’d be honored.”

Wow, he must enjoy courting death, or Teddie was that important.
 
The latter gave me a warm fuzzy, so I went with it.

“How about you?”
 
Mrs. Morales leveled a glare at me.

“Love some.”
 
Yes, Teddie was that important.

She put steaming bowls in front of us—apparently they used the microwave as a culinary autoclave.
 
One bite and both Squash and I groaned.
 
If this stuff killed me, I’d die happy.
 
My stomach leapt to life, hunger on overdrive.
 
The meager fare I’d scored recently insulted my stomach.
 
It growled in protest, earning a smile from Mrs. Morales.
 
I’d never seen her smile, and I knew better than to let it lull me into a false sense of complacency.
 
I had a feeling I wasn’t the only female at the table playing games.

Eddy V waited until we’d all finished, Squash practically licking the bowl.
 
“I’d take you guys into my office, but some guy blew chunks in there yesterday.
 
The gal who cleans the carpets got picked up by Vice last night.
 
I’d have her out already, but it’s her third. I tell her to work the high-class joints like yours,” he nodded to me, including me in this lovely conversation, “but she don’t feel right there. Been a Monday.”
 

“Doesn’t,” Mrs. Morales corrected.

“She’s trying to class me up,” Eddy frowned.
 
“I need to attract a higher-class business.
 
That way I don’t have so much of the cream going to the bounties.”

I nodded, as if classy was even remotely within Eddy V’s reach, but to me, high-class and bail bonds seemed like more of an oxymoron than he realized. “A reasonable plan.”

Eddy V rose, taking his greasy towel and my bowl to the sink.
 
“Premium on your guy will run you twenty percent on top of the ten percent I need to write the paper.”

I leaned back in my chair.
 
The games had begun.
 
“Five percent premium.
 
I’ll go with the ten down.”
 
That was pretty standard for the insurance companies to write the bond, and I didn’t have time to fight a battle I wouldn’t win just to beat him up for my own amusement.

“Fifteen.”
 
Eddy plopped back in his chair, a look of sincerity as fake as the tans that paraded through the Babylon.
 
“I want to help your guy, you know I do.”
 
Arms spread in a grand pleading gesture.
 
“I want to help
you.
”

He was as transparent as a French negligée. I leaned close to him.
 
“No, you want my money and to gouge an innocent man.”

He leaned back, tugging his threadbare jacket closed, a tight fit across his potbelly.
 
“It’s business.”

A justification, but I let it slide.
 
The Big Boss had tried that on me recently, and it had left the same bitter taste in my mouth.
 
“I’ve got something you want.”
 

His face shut down.
 
“What?”

“Not what, who.”
 
And yes, right now I had no problem being the Grinch.

“What’s the largest bond you’ve written recently?” I asked, breaking the know-the-answer-before-you-ask-the-question rule, a calculated gamble.

“A million five.”
 
At the mention of it, Eddy paled.
 

“Let me guess, Irv Gittings.”
 
How I managed to keep the smug out of my voice, I don’t know.
 
“And I’d be willing to bet his collateral was nothing more than a shell of empty corporations holding fictitious assets.”
 
That was on the insurance company, but Eddy’d be out a chunk of change.

Eddy wilted.

“Who fronted the cash?”

“A young Asian girl showed up with it.
 
Pretty, looking a bit scared.”

I didn’t see that coming.
 
“Kimberly Cho?”

Mrs. Morales harrumphed.
 

I took that as a yes.
 
“And now,” I pressed, “Irv’s jumped bail.”

Eddy looked like I was sticking pins under his fingernails.
 
“I’m not sure.”
 

Mrs. Morales weighed in.
 
“Cut the crap, Eddy.
 
He’s missed his call-ins, one hearing, and nobody can find him.”

“I can.”
 
Okay, that was a tiny bluff, a step out on a limb, but this was business and I had their attention.
 
Squash’s, too, as he eyed me with a hint of a smile as he tucked into the second bowl of green chili Mrs. Morales had dished out for him.

“Here’s how it’s going to go.
 
Eddy, you write the bond, pay the court the million.
 
We’ll give you the deed to Teddie’s penthouse at the Presidio as collateral.”
 
I got a slight nod from Squash.

“No, I want the deed to your place.
 
Your guy would be less likely to run if he knew you would lose your home.”

“Forget it.”
 
I guessed he hadn’t read the morning paper.
 
Better for me.
 
Besides, I wouldn’t invite him to dinner, much less risk having him move into my place.
 
The Homeowner’s Association would have me shot at dawn.
 
“Teddie’s place is worth more anyway.”
 
I almost said, “Especially right now,” but stifled myself.
 
If he didn’t know about the damage, all the better.
 
“Do you want Irv Gittings or not?”
 
That
question I knew the answer to.

“What about the ten down and the premium?” Mrs. Morales asked, giving me her best glare, which was pretty darn good.
 
Lesser men would turn tail and scurry back down their holes.

I stood my ground.
 
Teddie was that important.

“Take it out of my bounty for delivering Irv Gittings.”

“Where’d you learn to negotiate like that?” Squash asked as we headed back to the car.
 
He’d presented the deed, and Teddie should be out by nightfall.

“Life is negotiation, but I’m in the casino business … a woman in a man’s world.”

“Gotcha.
 
My partner, she’s got some of the same stories, I bet.”

“Same song, different verse.”

His eyes met mine as he opened my door, holding it for me.
 
“It doesn’t piss you off, playing the same game but with different rules?”

I pushed the start button and the engine growled, reverberating through me like a peak sexual experience.
 
So easy to please.
 
And so shallow, but I owned it.
 
I looked up at him and gave him my best smile.
 
“Never get mad, get even.”

That got a laugh, a big, bold, throaty laugh.
 
“My motto exactly.”
 
He smiled down at me.

Great.
 
I thought we’d just bonded over a dish of cold revenge.

“Can you really deliver Irv Gittings?”

“Done it before.
 
This time it might be in a body bag.”
 
I’d travel to the ends of the Earth to ensure Irv Gittings spent the rest of his life fighting off unwanted attention in the slammer.
 

Light dawned.
 
“That was your place that got torched last night.”
 
I didn’t need to confirm.
 
“Wow, you’re lucky.”

“Seriously, that’s the best you can do?”

“Hey, I’m really sorry.”

“I know.
 
And you have no idea how right you are.”

He shifted to lawyer mode.
 
“So you think this is personal?”

“Couldn’t get any more personal,” I growled.

“Gittings?” he asked, following the breadcrumbs.

“He’s the top of a very short list of people who have me in their sights and have the ability to do something about it.”

“And Teddie got caught in the crossfire?” I nodded.
 
“But why kill Holt Box?” he pressed.

“I’m working on that angle.”

“You prove it, Teddie walks.”

He didn’t have to tell me.

“Just remember, it’d be best if you leave the folks who did this alive.”

“No promises.”
 
I pulled my door shut.
 
“You getting in?”

“No, I’ll walk.
 
Fresh air does me good.
 
I’ve got more cases on the docket and some clients to see, and I’ve got to keep pushing on Teddie’s bond—the wheels of Justice grind slowly.
 
I’m sure you’re ready to have him home.”