What was left of Joe’s black hair was white, a few strands falling crookedly off his head. His teeth were still very large and too big for his mouth. The mouth was wide open and rasped with each breath. There were plenty of dials and machines perched over his bed.

Gerry kept his eyes closed for a couple more moments.

I could hear the creaking of Hawk’s leather coat as he stood next to me. I dropped my head and waited.

Gerry opened his eyes. He looked both of us over with disgust.

“Goddamn both of you.”

“Hello, Gerry.”

“What the fuck do you two want?”

Hawk spoke first. “Everything.”

57

How long has your old man been here?” I asked.

“Two years.”

“America’s Most Wanted across the river Styx.”

“Why don’t you talk like a normal person,” Gerry said. “Nobody knows what the fuck you’re saying.”

“’Cept me,” Hawk said.

Gerry shrugged. He remained seated at the chair beside his old man. He was rubbing his hands together. His face had tightened.

“Where was he before?” I asked.

“Gulf Shores, Alabama.”

“No kidding?”

“They got a nice beach,” Gerry said. “He liked to fish, feed the seagulls and shit.”

“And no one here knows?” I asked.

“Registered him under the name of a dead uncle,” Gerry said. “Nobody would recognize him anymore. You mighta noticed he ain’t himself.”

The tube in Joe Broz’s throat made gurgling noises.

“Really?”

“My father thought you were a real piece of shit, Spenser.”

“Aw, shucks.”

“Should have had you killed a long time ago.”

“He had his chance a few times,” I said. “I think he took comfort in keeping me around.”

“You gotta feel like a big man, droppin’ the dime on a dying old man.”

I looked at Hawk. He nodded at me.

“Is he?” I asked.

“What the fuck do you think?” Gerry asked. “Does he look like he’s taking a fuckin’ nap? They got him in diapers. He’s fed through a tube.”

“You know,” Hawk said, giving an appraising look, “Joe has looked better.”

“I don’t want him dragged into some crazy state place,” Gerry said. “They keep ’em in cages like filthy animals, where they piss and shit themselves. Here they keep him clean and safe. These old broads come around twice a day and sing old songs to him. It’s got some dignity to it.”

“How nice, Gerry,” Hawk said.

“Where’s Flynn?” I asked.

“Fuck you.”

Hawk took a step forward. Gerry stood, sliding a hand under his tan suede coat.

“Whatever you want, kid,” Hawk said.

“You feel big? Pickin’ on a sick old man? You two feel big?”

“I always feel big,” I said. “Hawk?”

“Gargantuan.”

“We want Flynn,” I said. “That’s all. He took a kid and will probably kill her.”

Gerry shook his head. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and then wiped his hand on the suede. It was then that I realized Gerry Broz had started to cry. His head fell forward in his hands. His back shook.

It looked theatrical and silly. But it was real.

“You give us Flynn and we walk,” I said. “We leave you and Joe out of this.”

Gerry sobbed, head still in his hands. “I knew he’d fuck it up. Flynn fucked me in the ass. Fuckin’ stupid. It’s all a mess.”

“What?”

“Business,” Gerry said. “It’s all a fucking mess.”

Gerry rested his hands on the plastic bed slats running alongside what was left of Joe Broz. He looked down at his old man, his big rolling tears pattering on the laundered sheet running up to his father’s sagging neck. The gurgling noises continued.

Hawk and I exchanged glances. I don’t know why, but I felt a little ashamed and voyeuristic.

“Why’d you partner with him?” I asked.

“Flynn made me promises,” Gerry said. “He said we could get back what had been my dad’s after Knocko Moynihan got aced. Now he’s gone fucking nuts over what he done to that girl.”

“Julie Sullivan.”

Gerry kept his head bowed, crying. He nodded. “Pussy makes you crazy.”

“Why’d he kill her, Ger?”

Gerry shook his head. He ran the back of his hand under his nose again. I sincerely hoped he wouldn’t wipe snot on his jacket again. There were limits. Instead, he shook his head some more.

“Give us Flynn,” I said. “He’s a sociopath. You have our word we leave your old man alone.”

Gerry was silent for a long while. He tilted his head up at me, staring and nodding. He sniffed a little. He looked at Hawk. Hawk looked to me.

Hawk nodded and left the room. The door behind him closed with a slight click.

I pulled over the red leather chair. Gerry studied my face with a mix of disgust and sadness. Somehow, I didn’t really blame him. He’d hated me for a long time. He hated that I’d beat him. More than anything, he hated that his old man respected me and never respected him.

“Sit,” I said.

“It’s my fuckin’ room,” he said. “I sit when I want to.”

“Sit down, Gerry.”

Gerry sat. We stared at each other over the body of Joe Broz. Broz looked like the centerpiece on a dinner table. Lilies would have looked appropriate propped up in his hands.

“That Fed Connor wants your old man bad,” I said. “You think Flynn won’t give you guys up? You give him up and you have time to move the old man any place you like.”

“You always wanted him dead,” Gerry said. “You’ll sell us both out for a nickel.”

“Nope,” I said. “Your old man was a lot of things, but his word was good.”

“He used to talk to me about ethics and shit,” Gerry said. “Since when do crooks have ethics?”

“We only want the kid safe,” I said.

Gerry brushed his longish dyed hair from his eyes. On a middle-aged man, long hair looked plain ridiculous. Long strands dropped back over his bloated face. His fingers were stubby and fat.

He patted the old man’s wrinkled hand, holding it. He seemed to be willing Joe to sit up and make a decision.

“Hawk and I walk,” I said. “You can have your old man FedExed to Boca Raton.”

Gerry was silent. I was pretty sure he was thinking. But with Gerry, it was hard to tell. I waited. I crossed my legs. I studied Joe Broz’s face, all that cocky swagger and jittery mean gone. He was a shell.

I looked to Gerry. I didn’t see the old man in the kid. I never had. Joe was a crook, but he had a code.

“Connor knows,” Gerry said. “Of course he fucking knows. Are you mental? Of course he fucking knows.”

I nodded. I acted as if I’d known all along. I gave him a slight nod to make it appear I’d been testing him.

“How do you think he and Flynn put the screws to me?” Gerry said. “Jesus H. Are you fucking stupid? Flynn has been ratting to the Feds since they let him out four years ago. That was his deal with Connor. They both have me by the nuts.”

“What’s Connor get out of it?”

“Dirt on everyone in the city and a single guy he can control,” Gerry said. “Or thought he could control. Flynn is batshit crazy. And now he goes off and snatches that broad’s daughter. You don’t do shit like that.”

“Why’d he kill Julie Sullivan?”

“’Cause she was fucked up,” Gerry said. Gerry patted his old man’s hands. He slowly let go of Joe Broz’s fingers. “She wanted Flynn to leave his fucking wife. When he told her to screw, she came back and says she’s dropping the dime on him and Connor bein’ buddies. They used to go and have dinners together on Connor’s boat. Goddamn, she killed her own fucking self.”

I nodded.

“Where’s Flynn, Gerry?”

Broz looked at me with his large eyes. His neck had grown even more fat and spilled out over his collar. Buttons looked as if they’d pop down the length of his purple dress shirt. In all the years I’d known him, he’d never worn clothes that fit. He always looked out of breath, red-faced, uncomfortable.