“I didn’t. Not the first wave anyway. Two Family guys, friends of mine, are lying back in those pine trees with their guts shot out of them. Didn’t you hear gunfire?”
Nolan shook his head no. “Angelo was using a grease gun with a silencer. You make more noise breathing than it makes shooting.”
“What was he up to, anyway?”
“Covering his tracks. He was in with Charlie.”
“Shit. Wait’ll Felix finds out.”
“That’s what Angelo must’ve been thinking. He knew he was up shit crick when the Family got onto Charlie. I figure he killed Tillis and Harry because they were his fellow conspirators and could implicate him. Same goes for killing Charlie. He probably hoped to make it look like I was going around shooting the guys responsible for taking my money, and leave it looking like Charlie and me killed each other in a crossfire.”
“Maybe he was after the money, too.”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“What
“Gone. All of it. Gone.”
“How, for Christ’s sake?”
Nolan told Greer what Charlie did with the money.
Greer shook his head, said, “Old bastard must’ve been crazy.”
“Yeah,” Nolan agreed. “Like the rest of us.”
Nolan told Greer to relay word to Felix about the money, told him he’d be at the Tropical waiting for Felix to come talk. There would be plans to cancel, new arrangements to be made.
Jon had the Olds hot-wired and ready to go in the boathouse garage, but it was unnecessary, because Nolan had found Charlie’s keys on the kitchen counter. Nolan and Jon laid Walter in the backseat; somewhere along the line the sock had been taken out of his mouth, but he wasn’t saying much anyway. Nolan didn’t answer any of Jon’s questions about what had happened or where the money was. Finally Jon asked if he could run upstairs and get something before they left, and Nolan said okay. When Jon came back with a box full of comic books, Nolan didn’t even say anything; he just opened the trunk for the boy and thought, well, at least somebody got something out of this.
They drove out of the garage, stopped to unlock the gate, where Nolan told Jon to get in the backseat with Walter and untie him.
Nolan started driving again and talked to Walter in the rearview mirror. “Your father is dead.”
Walter made a move to grab Nolan and Jon stopped him.
“Easy,” Nolan said. “I didn’t kill your old man, one of his own cohorts did. What I’m doing now is answering his dying request, God knows why, and hauling your ass away from that place before more Family people show up.”
“Where are you taking me?” Walter said.
“I’m going to drop you off at your sister’s apartment in Dekalb. She’ll be glad to see you, I think, if she isn’t off feeding the world’s hungry.”
They were passing through the subdivision of summer homes now. Nolan slowed the Olds and let a little boy and girl in swimming suits cross in front of him.
Walter said, “Won’t they be coming after me?”
“I don’t think so. You’re no threat to anybody. I’ll do some talking for you.”
“But I’m supposed to be dead — that body in the crash, it was identified as me, from clothes and a ring...”
“You’ll think of something.”
“I suppose... suppose I could just show up alive and act dumb, say I was dropping acid on the Coast for a year, something like that.”
Nolan nodded. “It’ll work out. Get yourself a job in an office.”
“Nolan,” Jon said.
“Yeah?”
“Are you going to say anything about the money, or aren’t you?”
“Forget about it.”
“What do you mean, forget about it?”
“It’s gone, kid. Up in smoke. Let it go.” He pulled off the subdivision drive onto the blacktop. He was thinking about Sherry, about climbing in the sack with Sherry and forgetting things for a while.
“Nolan,” Jon said, getting pissed, “what the hell happened to our money?”
Walter knew. Walter was smiling.
“Charlie burned it,” Nolan said.
