Death Notes

much on the others. Teagues gave him free booze and free bets - paid him if he won and ate it if he lost.’ Teagues had told me as much himself.
    ‘Malone Junk, he took over and ran the place while Malone did time. That’s how he got a twenty-percent piece of it. Legit.’
    ‘What about Tobinio?’
    ‘The Mafia guy. Shit. He gave the hype free meals. That’s what that’s all about. This Margolis was some kinda humdinger, you know that? He had some of the biggest creeps in town eating out of his hand.’
    ‘It doesn’t make sense, Pear.’
    ‘Sure it does. You like somebody, you take care of ’em.’
    ‘Things aren’t ever that simple.’
    Pear said, ‘You’re thinkin’ too hard, babe. Here, try some more of this Scotch.’
    Before Pear could pour, my cell phone rang. It was Mitch. ‘I can’t talk right now, Mitch. Let me call you later.’
    ‘It’s just a quick question. Are you sure you won’t come house-sit for me while I’m in Tahiti?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Positive?’
    ‘ Mitch .’
    ‘I’m only asking ’cause I ran into Myra—’
    ‘My cousin Myra?’
    ‘Yeah. She’s going to do it if you don’t.’
    ‘Go for it.’
    ‘It’s a go?’
    ‘Absolutely. Goodbye, Mitch.’
    Something clanged from the kitchen. Pear looked in the direction of the noise and, smiling, said, ‘You know, Ron, I’m the luckiest man on earth.’
    I saw the love in his eyes and thought of Match and Sharon’s marriage. Had some mysterious quality drawn Match to Sharon just as Mabel had seen something in Pear, something compelling enough to make her want to have Pear’s child?
    I thought back to the few minutes I’d seen Match and Sharon together and tried to remember how’d they’d interacted. She’d seemed solicitous of him and I’d assumed it was because she cared. Now, I knew he’d just been a commodity. A commodity who, it turned out, was worth more to her dead than alive.
     

38
     
    I spent most of the rest of the day tracking down Nick DuPont and finally found him at home. His Financial District apartment, a few blocks down from his Montgomery Street office, was impressive. He was into dead animal skins. The zebra-skin rug, the polar-bear-skin rug and the cheetah-skin rugs dotting the warehouse-sized living room made me wonder if he had their carcasses hidden somewhere in the back room. He even had sheepskin covers on some of his chairs. And leather couches. The place was enough to make a vegetarian squirm.
    Buddha Teagues had given me DuPont’s home address and from the look on the little man’s face when he opened the door and greeted me, Teagues had phoned ahead to tell him I was on my way.
    ‘I was just having coffee,’ DuPont said. ‘Would you care for some?’
    His brilliant white teeth flashed in a smile at me as he motioned to one of the black leather couches in front of a huge wall of glass. I sat down and saw the city twinkling in front of me. Beyond, the bay glistened like a black mirror in the waning light of the evening. Things seemed quiet and peaceful up here.
    DuPont served us coffee from an ornate silver urn with all the skill and decorum of a trained butler. Then he sat down in a chair angled by the glass wall in front. Just like in his office, he was framed by the magnificence of the city behind him.
    He stirred two lumps into his coffee, then, as he started to lift the delicate china cup to his lips, I said, ‘I understand you supplied Match with heroin.’
    He coughed, set his cup down abruptly, and turned to me. His expression was chilling.
    ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said.
    ‘I think you do. I’d like to know why.’
    He stood. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.’
    I didn’t move. ‘Mr DuPont, if you’re sincere about wanting Match’s killer caught, you’ll cooperate. I’m not the police. I’m not working for the police. I’m not going to arrest you and I’m not going to turn you in. What you say here, now, goes no farther than your front door.’
    He just stared at me, so I launched into a long spiel about my father and integrity among thieves and codes of honor. I doubted my father would have thought much of Nick DuPont, but I kept talking and talking until I sensed he was starting to thaw.
    ‘If you cross me, Miss Ventana, you won’t live long enough to tell me how sorry you are.’
    ‘I understand.’
    He gestured for me to stand and, from out of nowhere, a huge thug stepped into the room and stood in front of