“Do you have any idea why Drager was nervous?”

“I’m guessing someone’s putting pressure on him.”

“His next meeting?”

Vinnie shrugged. “All I know is Drager didn’t want to shut me down or send me to jail. He just wanted the money.”

“You know what else I thought was weird. The office. There weren’t any people working there. He said they left early, but I didn’t see any clutter on the desks in the empty cubicles and offices. Nothing in their wastebaskets. The only machine working was the paper shredder. What kind of an office has that many empty desks and a giant paper shredder?”

“A fake office,” Vinnie said. “Cripes, I don’t want to say what I’m thinking.”

“That you and Bobby Sunflower have been scamming an even bigger scammer?”

“Yeah.”

“Drager?”

“Drager’s mixed up in it, but he’s not the end of the line. Someone’s got his nuts in a vise.”

TWENTY-TWO

LULA AND CONNIE were waiting for us to return to the office, and it was coming up to time for dinner, so I stopped on the way back to get a bucket of chicken. I was getting sick of chicken, but it was easy and fast and relatively cheap.

We took the chicken into Vinnie’s inner office, set up more folding chairs, and dug in.

“What did Drager want?” Connie asked.

“Money,” Vinnie said. “He wants the money he lost on the phony bonds.”

Connie stopped eating. “How much is that?”

“I don’t know,” Vinnie said. “A lot. Maybe a million. I have to go back over the files.”

Connie, Lula, and I exchanged a mental message. The message was No way, Jose.

The front door to the office opened and closed, and Connie went to see who’d walked in. I followed after her, and Lula followed after me.

Three men stood in the middle of the office. They were dressed in collared knit shirts left untucked, dark slacks, and scuffed shoes. My first thought was cops. My second was hired goons. They were in their forties, and they all looked like they ate a lot of starch and vodka and didn’t get enough sun. Doughy faces, soft bellies. Mean little pig eyes. Receding hairlines. Guns stuck in the waistbands of their slacks, mostly hidden under the knit shirts.

Connie went to her desk and sat down. I knew why. Connie kept the Uzi and a Glock in her middle drawer. Lula and I stood in front of Vinnie’s office, and I closed the door behind me.

“Can I help you?” Connie asked.

“We’re looking for Vincent Plum.”

“He isn’t here,” Connie said. “Would you like to leave a message?”

“Lady, we saw him walk in here in weird clothes. Tell him Larry, Mo, and Eugene want to talk to him.”

“And this would be in reference to what?” Connie asked.

“It’s a business matter.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Plum isn’t available right now.”

Larry hauled his gun out of his pants. “And I’m afraid I’m going to have to shoot one of you if he doesn’t get available.”

“Hey, Vinnie,” Connie yelled. “There are some idiots here to see you.” I stepped aside, and Vinnie stuck his head out.

“What?” Vinnie said.

“You need to come with us,” Larry said. “We’re going for a ride.”

“Are you shitting me?” Vinnie said. “I already took the ride. I’m done with the ride. Sunflower got his money. What’s your deal?”

“We pick up and deliver,” Larry said. “We don’t make the deals. We don’t know anything about the deals. And we don’t work for Sunflower.”

“So who do you work for?” Vinnie asked.

“You find that out when you go for the ride.”

“Look at me,” Vinnie said. “I’m dressed like a Hobbit. I’m not going for any more rides dressed like a Hobbit.”

“What the fuck is a hobbit?” Larry asked.

“They’re little people from Middle Earth,” I said.

“You mean like midgets?”

“No, but they might be distantly related to Munchkins,” I told him.

“What are you on, dopey dust?” Larry said to me.

I didn’t actually know what dopey dust was, but I was pretty sure I wasn’t on it.

“I’m done talking,” Larry said to Vinnie. “I don’t care if you’re dressed like a turnip. March. The car’s out front.”

“No,” Vinnie said.

And Vinnie jumped back and slammed his door shut and locked it. Mo and Eugene drew their guns, and all three men shot the door full of holes.

“You’re in big trouble now,” Lula said to the men. “That door’s owned by The Wellington Company, and they’re gonna be pissed when they see what you did to their door. It’s not like doors grow on trees, you know.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about The Wellington Company,” Larry said.

“Then how about the cops?” Lula said. “Do you worry about them? On account of Vinnie’s in there calling the police right now. Or at least he would if he had a phone.”

“Kick the door down,” Larry said to Eugene.

Connie, Lula, and I knew this wouldn’t be an easy thing to do. This wasn’t the first time Vinnie had to retreat to his office and hide. Vinnie had the door reinforced with rebar and inch-thick bolts that ran the width of the door.

Eugene gave the door a kick just below the handle. Nothing. He put his shoulder into it. Nothing. He shot the lock and kicked some more. Enough of the wood had splintered off that some of the rebar was showing through.

“He’s got this thing reinforced,” Eugene said.

“I’m not leaving here empty-handed,” Larry said. “We’ll take one of the women.”

“Whoever the heck you work for won’t be happy with that,” Lula said. “They want Vinnie. Do any of us look like Vinnie? I don’t think so.”

“Which one do you want?” Eugene asked. “You want the fat one mouthing off?”

Lula’s eyes got so wide they looked like billiard balls. “Excuse me? Did you just say I was fat? Because you better not have said that. I am big and beautiful, but I am not fat. And I don’t put up with that slander shit. And I would just like to see you lay one hand on me, because I’ll kick your ass from here to Sunday.”

“How about if we shoot you,” Larry said.

“You’d be in big trouble with The Wellington Company again. They wouldn’t have no one to do the filing. Maybe they’d talk to your boss, and he’d make one of you morons come in here to do the filing. Is that what you want? You want to file all day, because it’s no picnic.”

“You take her and I quit,” Eugene said. “She never shuts up.”

“I hear you,” Larry said. “Take one of the others.”

Eugene looked at him. “Which one? How about the one at the desk with the tits.”

Now that was insulting. “Hey,” I said. “Show some sensitivity. I’ve got tits, too, you know.”

“So take the one with the little tits,” Larry said. “I don’t care who you take. I just want to get out of here.”

“Thanks, but no,” I said.

“I thought you were volunteering,” Larry said.

“I wasn’t volunteering. I was just pointing out that I have tits.”

“Grab her,” Larry said to Eugene.

I moved fast and put Connie’s desk between us. We danced around the desk a couple times, and Larry yelled to stop.

“Here’s the way it’s going down,” Larry said to me. “You go with us, or I’m going to shoot one of your friends.”

“What happens if I go with you?”

“I guess we hold you hostage until we can swap you out for the loser in the office.”

“That don’t sound so bad,” Lula said.

“Well, great,” I said to Lula. “If you think it sounds so wonderful, you can go with them.”

“Nuh-ah,” Lula said. “I’m mad at them. Mr. Pasty Flabby said I was fat.”

Mr. Pasty Flabby aimed the gun at Lula and squeezed off a round. The bullet tagged her in the fleshy part of her arm and dug into the wall behind her. Connie opened her desk drawer, grabbed the Glock, and shot Larry in the knee. Larry yelped and went down like a sack of sand.

“Drop your guns, or I’ll shoot him again,” Connie said.

Eugene and Mo dropped their guns and froze, and Larry rolled around, holding his knee, bleeding through his slacks.