Stone Cold (Camel Club 3)
“I know you do. You went after the bastard. I never had the balls to do it. Sure, I’m a good con, maybe one of the best. I’ve got nerve, more than most.”
“And things have changed?”
“I’m dying already. So what the hell does it matter to me? Better to get a bullet in the brain courtesy of Jerry than watch my insides dissolve on me.”
“And how exactly do you propose doing that?”
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot actually. Probably the only thing I’ve been thinking about. But your conning Jerry gives us a way to nail him.”
“Because he’s coming after me?”
“Right. You had a crew of course.”
“Two people you know, or know of, one you don’t.”
Paddy flicked his c
igarette out the window and sat back down at the table. “Jerry hit any of them?”
“One. He’s a veg.”
“And maybe ratted you out?”
“No maybe about it, he did. In fact, Jerry is in D.C. trying to find me right now.”
“That tall, older bloke with you, can you trust him?”
“He’s never let me down.”
“Good friend to have.” Paddy fell silent, staring down at his unfinished breakfast.
“You think you’re in shape to run a con on Jerry? I got away from him last time because I worked it to perfection. I’m not looking to walk in and get my head blown off because you fall on your face.”
“Always admired your bluntness.”
“Guess who taught me?” she shot back.
“I am ready for this. In fact, it’s the only thing keeping me alive. And I’ve got the plan.”
“What is it?”
“Basically to get Jerry to confess to killing your mum.”
“Oh, really, is that all? Hell, I wish I would’ve thought of that one.”
“You have a problem with the concept?”
“No, with the execution, as in yours and mine. Because correct me if I’m wrong, but getting someone to confess to a murder, wouldn’t that involve getting up close and personal?”
“Absolutely. The closest possible proximity.”
“Well why don’t we stop right there then. I’ve done my face time with Jerry. I have no desire to do it again.”
“With my plan the risk will be minimal to you.”
“Define minimal.”
“Just trust me, Annie.”
“You must be insane.”
“No, I’m just a dying man who’s got to make peace with his God. And to do that, I have to make this right. I have to.”
This remark came so out of left field that Annabelle could only stare at him.
“But there is a small problem with the plan,” he said.
“How small?’
“We need access to the good guys, the cops. Not exactly my specialty.” He glanced at her. “Any ideas on that score?”
Annabelle sat back, not looking very confident. “You know this is suicide, don’t you?”
“I will never let you come to harm at the hands of Jerry. But I have to do this. I swear that to you on your mother’s grave.”
This last remark did something to Annabelle she never thought any words could ever do. She actually started feeling something for her father. She wasn’t sure if it was sympathy, pity, or maybe even something more.
“Then maybe I can find the good guys to help us,” she said quietly.
CHAPTER 47
ANNABELLE LEFT HER FATHER and walked to Stone’s room.
“He wants to team with me to con Jerry into confessing to my mother’s murder,” she said bluntly and then collapsed on the small couch next to Stone’s bed.
“You think you can trust him?”
“Damn it, Oliver, you just spent all that time telling me to forgive the man.”
“Forgive him, yes, not trust him.”
“I have no reason to trust him at all.”
Stone looked at her warily. “I sense a but coming.”
“But with all that I do trust him. I don’t know why, just call it my gut.”
“But you need the cavalry?”
“That’s what he says.”
“I might be able to help.”
“I thought so. I mean, they owe you after the last time.”
“They never owe you, Annabelle. Or at least they never think they do. But let me see what I can work. So what do you do with your father in the meantime?”
“I was sort of hoping he could come back to D.C. with us.”
“And stay with you? That might be a little dicey with Bagger in the same town.”
“Any help there would be appreciated.”
“Tell your father to get his things together.”
Paddy didn’t have anything to get together. Everything he owned was already in his battered truck. He insisted on following them down. “Truck’s all I’ve got left. I ain’t letting it go.”
With Paddy behind them, Stone and Annabelle drove south to Reuben’s house in one of the few remaining rural areas of northern Virginia. It was very late when they arrived there, but Stone had called ahead.
They pulled down a gravel drive that was more path than road and bracketed by thick woods. They passed leaning shacks and rotting cars as the wilderness and poverty grew with each click of the odometer. A few minutes later the Nova’s headlights flicked across a weed-filled yard and spotlighted a garage with its single overhead door open. The interior was bursting with tools and car parts. Parked beside the garage were six cars, two trucks, three motorcycles and what looked to be a dune buggy, all in various states of being rebuilt. Next to the garage was a mobile trailer that was no longer mobile, being set firmly on cinder blocks.
“Reuben just moved here recently,” Stone remarked.
Annabelle gazed back at the garage. “Does he run a chop shop on the side?”
“No, the man’s a mechanical genius. I think he’s closer to his machines than he is to most people. That’s why he loves his motorcycle so much. He says it’s far more reliable than any of his three wives ever were.”
“Oliver, do you have any normal friends?”
“Well, there’s you.”
“Oh, God, are you in serious trouble.”
Stone noted Reuben’s truck in the yard and a light on in the trailer.
“They’re waiting for us,” he said.
Reuben met them at the door and then stared over at the pickup truck, Paddy at the wheel.
“Who’s that?”
“A friend,” Annabelle answered quickly.
“I thought he might be able to stay here, at least for tonight,” Stone said.
“What the hell’s one more? He can have the presidential suite. It’s right next to the bathroom.”