"The Brown Bomber," Foley said, "it sounds racist. You have to be careful these days, you can sound like a racist without even trying.

Anyway, the guy said if Snoopy Miller's in the fight game we might find him at the Kronk gym, it's where Thomas Hearns trained. I saw the Hit Man get the decision over Benitez in New Orleans, I happened to be home. I asked him where the Kronk gym was, he said he didn't know.

Somewhere on the west side."

"I was an east sider Buddy said, turning to the window.

"Look out there. You ever see so much glass in your life? All those buildings over there, like giant tubes of glass. The tallest one's the hotel, the Westin. There's a restaurant and cocktail lounge on top, something like seventy floors up, turns around real slow-you don't even feel it. You're looking out at the Motor City, have another drink, you're looking across the river at Canada. You want, we could go up there, get a good look at the city."

"From what I've seen," Foley said, "it looks deserted, like everybody left town."

"It's Sunday, Jack, everybody's home watching the game.

You want to go over to the Westin, see what's there? Maybe go up to the top?"

"If we didn't have to go outside."

"It's not that cold. You know what you do? Relax your body.

Don't hunch up, swing your arms, keep your blood moving and it doesn't seem as cold."

"Who told you that?"

"I think it was my sister. She knows things like that."

"Living in sunny California. That's where we oughta be, 'stead of here at the fucking North Pole."

"Wait a minute," Buddy said, "we don't have to go outside.

That glass thing that goes across Jefferson, it's like a bridge you walk across from our hotel to the RenCen."

"What's the RenCen?"

"The Renaissance Center, those glass tubes over there. Tell me what you want to do."

"I don't know," Foley said.

"What do you do in Detroit on a Sunday when you can't think of anything and the banks are closed?"

Foley sipped his drink.

"I know where I want to go tomorrow."

"Yeah, where?"

"The Kronk gym."

SIXTEEN

The first thing Maurice said to Glenn was, "Uh-unh, you don't call me Snoopy. I don't answer to that Snoopy shit no more." Later on in the car he said, "I let White Boy call me Maury sometime if I'm in the mood. White Boy Bob's my all-around man, my bodyguard when I feel I need one, and my driver."

Right now he was driving the '94 Lincoln Town Car Glenn had brought from Florida and Maurice had fixed up with a Michigan license plate and what he said were clean papers, Glenn not sure now if it was his car or belonged to this dude wearing a lavender do-rag bandanna, this ex-con who used to be known as Snoopy.

White Boy didn't seem to pay any attention to Maurice and Glenn in the backseat talking about him. Driving out to the suburbs on a cold, sunless afternoon, all the way out Woodward Avenue from downtown to show Glenn Mr. Ripley's house in Bloomfield Hills.

"White Boy," Maurice said, "never made it as a pro, even though he can be a mean and vicious motherfucker. See, but if a fighter works in and gives him a good shot, White Boy's eyes cross and he don't know where he's at. I'm talking about in the ring, you understand, where you have to go by the rules. You mess with him on the street it's a whole different situation.

Look at him, the shoulders, a size twenty neck on him. White Boy Bob stands six-four and goes two-fifty, can put his fist through a plaster wall. I've seen it." Maurice said, "White Boy," raising his voice,

"tell Glenn the reason you went down on that burglary that time."

Glenn saw White Boy Bob look up at the mirror.

"I left my wallet in the house I robbed."

Glenn saw him grinning now in the mirror.

"Come out of his pocket," Maurice said, "as he's climbing through the window. Takes the TV, the VCR, some other shit and leaves his wallet on the floor. The police come by to see him.

"You lose this, Bob?" White Boy goes, "Yeah, I guess I did," not thinking where he might've left it. Got sent to Huron Valley." Maurice raised his voice again.

"What was it, two years you done that time?"

"Twenty-two months."

Glenn watched him looking at the mirror and Maurice said, "Watch the road, Boy." He said to Glenn, "I like this Town Car. We can cruise the man's neighborhood without getting the police or the private security people on our ass. Understand what I'm saying?"

Glenn said, "Sure, right, they see Bigfoot driving around a black guy wearing shades and a lavender fucking bandanna, no, they won't think anything of it."

Maurice said, "It's lilac, man, the color, and the style's made known by Deion and other defensive backs in the pros. I could be one of them living out here with doctors of my race and basketball players. Man, all you need is money. Here, this road we coming to… What is it, White Boy?"

"Big Beaver," White Boy said, grinning at the mirror.

"White Boy can't get over a road name Big Beaver. Okay, we come about fifteen miles from that whorehouse motel you staying at downtown. Now we in Bloomfield Hills. We go left a ways and then right. They no hills to speak of, huh, but lots of trees.

Remember Lompoc, we had that nice view of trees and the warden had 'em all cut down?"

"Eucalyptus," Glenn said.

"New warden," Maurice said.

"Cut down the trees and kept the yard closed till noon every day. I worked nights, see, in the bakery? Use to come off and do my training.

So I couldn't do it no more, work on my legs. You don't have legs, you got no business in the ring."

White Boy said, "I let Maury hit me in the gut as hard as he can."

Maurice said, "Watch the road, Boy. Slow down, I think it's the next street… Yeah, Vaughan Road, nothing but money.

Here come Mr. Ripley's house up on the left. Yeah, the brick wall..

. There's his drive, right there."

Glenn turned his head to look out the back window and caught sight of a slate roof, glimpses of a Tudor-style country house through the trees, a huge place, Glenn saying, "He went by too fast."

Maurice told White Boy to turn around, in that drive there, and go slow so Glenn could see the house.

"Okay, now creep.

Big place, huh? We come by and see people trimming, cutting the lawn, so I send White Boy to go find the boss of the crew, ask was there any work for him. The boss say no, so White Boy goes around to where this houseman is washing a car, in back, and ask can he have a drink of water from the hose. The houseman's white too, see. They get talking, White Boy ask him they any trouble with prowlers around here, car thieves and such. The houseman say they got a system, the man's sleeping and hears a sound he don't like? He press a button and every light inside and outside the house comes on. He wants to, he can press the button again, all the lights outside the house start flashing, a siren goes off and the police get a call, like a signal.

The man has everything but U.S. Marines run out the garage at you. I'm thinking, we don't need none of that shit. I make up my mind, if this Ripley place is worth going into, they's only one way to do it. Which I believed from the time you first told me about Ripley was how to do it anyway."

"How?" Glenn said.

"I'll show you, soon as I get two more people I'm gonna need. Couple of young gym rats I know, hang out at the Kronk.

Give 'em a hundred each they go anywhere I say."

"Wait just a fucking minute," Glenn said.

"I'm letting you in on this, not all your friends."

"You let me in on what?" Maurice said.

"You come this time and tell me, finally, the whole story, how this man has all kind of money in there, stones, gold; but that was five years ago the man told you. What's he got in there now? You tell me you gonna bring some people, couple old cons know what they doing.