“You sat down at a table with that sexy little singer you’ve been dreaming about, at twenty-one hundred hours?”
“About then.”
“Not long afterwards two Thais were shot dead. Funny coincidence.”
Calvino paused, waited. Saxon had gone quiet.
“What do the police say?” Calvino said, breaking the silence. “Could have been a botched robbery. New Year’s, a lot of gold and money changing hands.”
“That’s what the police told my man. I’m curious to know if you heard the shots.”
“With firecrackers going off and drums and gongs, I couldn’t hear anything but people hacking and spitting chicken bones.”
“You’ve been around. You know the difference between the sound of a gunshot and a firecracker.”
“Jack, there was a lot going on.”
“Did you find the missing
kid?”
“I found him.”
Calvino shot Rob a look. But it was Mya who found Calvino eyes. He locked eyes with her for a moment too long before breaking off.
“So you had a happy ending.”
That was an old-hand expression for finishing with a bargirl.
“‘Happy’ isn’t the word I’d use.”
“That’s disappointing. I’m at the bar in the Savoy. Come over and let me buy you a drink, and you can tell me why you think those two dead Thais were involved in a Chinatown heist.”
“I was only guessing the motive,” said Calvino.
“Just like the police. But my man said it looked like a professional hit. Both were shot at close range. One in the head, the other in the chest. The driver knocked out beside the car.”
“You’re writing a story, right? Add this to it. You open up the country, and the next thing you know, the bad blood pours in and someone gets killed in the line of duty.”
“What duty would that be?”
“The faithful working to keep the margins of profit moving up. Before the thaw men like this could kill each other, and no one on the outside knew. Now the whole world is looking down the streets, asking questions. Be careful, Jack. No place opens that fast.”
“You sound like someone from the government.”
“As I said, I’m busy. We can talk tomorrow.”
“One more thing, Vinny. I found a private detective. He just opened shop. If you want details, I’ll be at the bar.”
Saxon ended the call smiling, helping himself to a bowl of potato chips on the bar.
Calvino rose up from the bed, slipped on his jacket and took a step over to Rob to check his nose and face.
“You’ll be okay. Listen, I’ve got to go out for an hour. I’ll be back. If there were a mini-bar, I’d say help yourself. But there ain’t one. Help yourself to the whiskey. I’ll bring back some food. By the time I return, I’ll have figured out what to do next.”
Ten minutes later Calvino slid onto the stool beside Jack Saxon at the bar. Saxon turned and looked over his glasses at Calvino the way a teacher looks at a student who has tried to sneak into class twenty minutes late.
“Whiskey,” said Calvino. “A double Black Label.”