В сердце большого города скрываются тайны и загадки. Каждое утро открывает новый слой этой истории, напоминая о безвозвратности прошлого. Внутренние драмы и судьбы, переплетающиеся в пространстве и времени, создают непредсказуемую атмосферу будничной мелодрамы.
“These bozos were supplying cookers from Halifax to Houston. Dragged forty-three to the bag on Friday, eleven more on Saturday. A lot of lawyers will be banking retainers.”
“Was Andrew Ryan involved in the sting?”
Charbonneau smiled and wagged his head.
“Even if he is SQ, that guy’s the stuff of legend.”
To say some rivalry exists between the SQ and the CUM would be like saying the Palestinians have some issues with the Israelis.
“Why is that?” I picked up a pen and began drawing squares inside squares.
“Saturday morning Ryan almost gets his lights blown out, right? That night I see him cool as an ice slick, squiring a number half his age.” Charbonneau leaned back and curved a figure eight in the air with his hands. “Very little spandex, acres of skin. Ryan’s what, forty-five? Forty-seven? Chick’s barely out of braces.”
I subdivided a square. Disinterested.
“The señorita’s hanging in, so I guess the guy’s still got what it takes.”
Ryan and I had been discreet.
“Hanging in?” Casual.
Charbonneau shrugged. “I’ve seen them together before.”
“Really.”
“Let’s see, when was that?” Charbonneau sailed on, unaware of the reaction his words were having. “August? Yeah. August. It was hotter than a friggin’ banana boat.”
A meaty finger pointed in my direction.
“I came by here to ask about a case. You were down South. I had to testify, and the preliminary took place in early August.
The first week of August. Ryan in Charlotte. An urgent phone call. Trouble with his niece. An unscheduled return to Canada.
I tossed the pen and buckled down my face.
“Monsieur Charbonneau, I called Friday because I’ve found information relevant to the pizza basement skeletons.”
Charbonneau slumped back and thrust out both feet. “I’m listening.”
“I got a second opinion on the buttons found by Said Matoub.
Charabonneau looked blank.
“The owner of the pizza parlor.”
“The guy who found the skeletons.”
“Actually that was the plumber, but close enough. Matoub admitted to having pocketed three silver buttons while collecting the bones.”
“Right.”
“Your partner took the buttons to the McCord for evaluation.”
“Lady there said they were old.”
“Antoinette Legault. She was only partially correct.
