"They get picked up for busting into homes-"

"You have nothing to worry about."

"But they get brought up on the Paradiso gig-"

"How? If there no witnesses?"

Montez said, "Kelly saw them."

Now he tells me, Avern thought, maintaining his pose, hands folded in front of him. He said, "From where?"

"Upstairs, where you can look down."

"They're in the foyer?"

"Yeah, they leaving."

"I can see it," Avern said, "I've been to parties there when Tony's wife was alive. Look straight ahead, there's the living room. Look up, there's the second floor. But looking down from up there? I wouldn't recognize my own wife-and not because she's always changing her hairdo. That's the only time Kelly saw them?"

"What she told me."

Avern shook his head. "I'm not gonna worry about her."

"I am," Montez said, "there's any possibility she can I.D. them. Lemme point something out to you. They get charged for doing Paradiso and Chloe and go down, you think they going without me? And you? Man, you they lawyer, isn't that what you do? Play Let's Make a Deal? But who you gonna give up to help the boys out, me and you or just me? Then who's left, Avern, for me to give up? Outside of you?"

Avern gave Montez his condescending smile, letting him know he didn't know shit about what he was getting into, and said, "You trying the case now? You have Kelly Barr on the stand? But did she pick Carl and Art out of a lineup as the two she saw in a foyer from upstairs? Twenty feet above them, looking down at the tops of their heads? My man, give me a break. There's no way in the world she could positively identify them."

Montez looked like he was thinking about it before he said, "You sure?"

"Take my word."

Montez said, "I'm gonna ask her. She says no, she didn't see 'em good, we all still friends. She says yeah, she can pick 'em out, then you tell me what should become of her."

Montez left and Avern brought a framed photo of his wife Lois, in color-taken in the backyard, bright green leaves behind her-from a desk drawer and placed it to one side on the clean surface. Lois was never on the desk when he was dealing with criminals and ex-cons. Sometimes he would smile at her carefree expression and wish he could tell her he was an agent for a couple of hit men who specialized in drug dealers. "Honey, I'm using felons to stop the traffic of controlled substances. Like Batman, they're caped crusaders." What would she say? "You charge ten or fifteen percent?" Tell her twenty off the top, get her to laugh. It would be great if she could have fun with it. No, Lois would say, "Avern," in her cool way, "you're looking at mandatory life." She'd say it knowing she was wrong to make the point, knowing he could trade down to eight to fifteen, something around there. See? He couldn't tell Lois. He couldn't tell anybody, and it was a hell of a story.

Delsa arrived at Avern Cohn Associates a little later.

He knew Sheila, Avern's assistant, from being deposed here, answering Avern's questions that went on forever. He said to her, "You watching the job market?"

This went back to when he first met Sheila Ryan and he'd kid her about Avern getting disbarred. Sheila was forty with streaked blond hair, divorced, good-looking, a downtown girl. She said, "They'll never get Avern, he's too slippery. He's an eel with a human brain."

"I'll bet you five bucks," Delsa said, "he's up for arraignment within a week. Make it ten."

"After you leave," Sheila said, "you want me to tell him how confident you are, willing to risk ten bucks?"

Sheila had been another possibility, along with Eleanor. But not anymore. He said, "Make it twenty."

She said, "Make it dinner."

And he said something she didn't hear, went in and sat down opposite Avern at his desk, a phone and a photograph on the clean surface.

"You don't have any work?"

"All I need is the back of an envelope," Avern said, "outside the courtroom or in a holding cell. I'm glad you condemned that ninth-floor lockup. My God, it stunk up there. Tell me what I can do for you."

Delsa said, "If you represented Fontana and Krupa-"

"You telling me you have them?"

"I'm asking if you represented them for the willful murder of Anthony Paradiso and Chloe Robinette:"

Delsa paused.

Avern waited now.

"And you were to represent Montez Taylor for hiring these goons to kill his boss, so he could go after the money Chloe was getting, since Montez wasn't getting shit:"

Delsa paused again.

Avern said, "What's the question?"

"If you represented Fontana and Krupa, and also Montez, who do you give up? Whoever's arraigned first gets to make the deal?"

"That's your question?"

"What if we get 'em all at the same time?"

"Tell me what you've got on this Carl and Art."

"You first," Delsa said. "What can you give me to save your own ass? That's my question."

There wasn't any more Delsa would tell him or anything Avern was ready to discuss or deny. Delsa left and Avern looked at his wife's picture, still on the clean desk.

He said, "Lois, you try to use a little ingenuity in your practice : you never know what might happen."

26

Montez was sitting in the lexus with a kid named Ricky, fourteen, tall with big hands, Baggies hanging on him. They were parked across the street from Kelly's building and Montez was showing Ricky signed pictures of Kelly in panties and thongs.

"You know what a small world it is?" Montez said. "I'm thinking of how I can show you Kelly so you know what she looks like, and I remember this girl Emily works at the Rattlesnake. I'd see her when I felt like some white pussy. Know what I'm saying? Something different, change my luck. I remember Emily collects autographs of celebrities come in the Snake. She ask can she shoot them with her Polaroid. They most all say yeah, smile at her and sign the picture. Now here's Kelly living a few blocks from the Snake. I'm thinking she must go there sometimes. So I call my friend Emily this morning, ask her does she know Kelly Barr. Emily says she's got more pictures of Kelly than anybody as Kelly's her favorite celebrity. She even got the latest pictures of her signed just the other day. So I go over and borrow her Victoria's Secret," Montez said, "so you know what she looks like she comes out of the building."

Fourteen-year-old Ricky said these were fine-looking bitches in here. He wouldn't mind having him some of 'em.

"Her car's over here in the lot," Montez said, "the black VW. See it? She come out and heads for the car, you get over there, start wiping off her windshield. There's a hand towel on the backseat here. You a talker, dog, turn on the personality. See can you find out where she's going and when she's coming back."

Ricky said, "What if she walks someplace?"

"Follow her."

"What if she don't come out?"

"She still at home by dark, call and tell me."

"I could be hanging here all day?"

"As long as it takes," Montez said. "Look at all the cars around here. Open one up and sit in it till she comes. You have my number-right?"

"I got it somewhere."

Montez said, "Ricky, don't lose that number. I want to hear from you, man."

This was earlier in the day, before Montez got the call from Avern and went to see him.

It was noon by the time Delsa was ready to leave the McDonald's on West Chicago. They had put out a BOLO on Gregory Coleman, also known as Big Baby, be on the lookout for this kid with a sawed-off shotgun and his buddies in a dark-colored Grand Marquis.

Now he called Kelly.

"What time will you leave?"

"By one-thirty the latest. I'm about to get in the shower."