Gin Palace 01 - The Poisoned Rose

should replace treasure chests with land mines. That’s what this place is like. A minefield. Step in the wrong spot, and, boom, the shit goes off right in your face.”
    It was only then that I realized Augie had probably had a few drinks before coming here.
    “You might want to have a seat,” I said.
    “We stepped into something tonight, Mac. You know that, right?”
    “I sort of figured that out, yeah.”
    “Frank and I grew up together. Did you know that?”
    “No.”
    “If I know one thing about him, it’s to never trust him. I knew it then, when we were kids, and I know it now. Maybe he didn’t know what we were walking into tonight, but I’d bet my life he did. Just like I’d bet my life he knew what he was doing by sending you to find that Weber girl. He’s a master manipulator, always has been. So I’m thinking that it might be smart of you and me to find out for ourselves what’s really going on.”
    “What do you have in mind?”
    “The guy who killed the cop is the one from the Caddy, so he saw us. And he knows we saw him kill Vogler. Maybe he’s beat it out of town, but maybe he hasn’t. His partner’s in custody, so he might be of some help, but if they’re pros, which I think they are, then I don’t think we should count on the cops getting much out of him.”
    “What makes you think they were pros?”
    “The Caddy was the kill car. They probably would have ditched it right way, a few miles out of town. The other car, driven by the other guy, was the shooter’s ride. It was a well-thought-out hit. They knew what they were doing.”
    I thought about that for a moment, then Augie said, “You’re an easy man to find, Mac. Enough people know you. And I did just waltz in here now and catch you napping. So if the shooter isn’t long gone…” He didn’t finish his thought, didn’t need to.
    “What did Frank have to say about tonight?”
    “We didn’t have that much time to talk. But if he is up to something, we shouldn’t rely on anything he says, should we?”
    “You really think he is up to something.”
    “If you’re asking me if I think Frank would sell me to the devil for pocket change, my answer is yes, I think he’d do it in a heartbeat.”
    “All right, Augie, let me ask you again: why are you working for him?”
    “I spent twenty-five years in the DEA, most of it down in Colombia. Before that I did two tours of duty as a marine in Vietnam. I’m not squeamish, Mac, I’ve seen my share of shit. And I don’t have the…objections you seem to have to the kind of work Frank does. It’s funny, he tried to tell me that you were some kind of pacifist, which clearly you’re not, and thank God for that.”
    “You told me earlier that your reasons for working for him were personal. Feel like telling me now what the reasons are?”
    “It’s a long story. Maybe another time.”
    “I don’t want to get caught in the middle of some old grudge between you two.”
    Augie said nothing to that. I got the sense that maybe he was withholding something from me. But I knew better than to ask.
    After a moment, he glanced again at the bottle of Beam. “I could use another belt.”
    “You know how to pour.”
    He gave himself a few more inches, then downed it.
    “Maybe I will sit,” he said.
    I nodded toward the chair by the window. Augie pulled it over and placed it across from me. He sat down on it and looked at me.
    “Listen, I want to thank you for not leaving me there,” he said. “I was wrong about you. Frank’s wrong about you.”
    I could see outside my three front windows to a rim of silver behind the clouded horizon beyond the bare elm trees. Morning wasn’t all that far off. I thought about another sip of Beam, but I was already too drunk.
    “I think you and I are a lot alike,” Augie said. “We both rush into things without thinking. We might not be very good for each other.”
    “You’re probably right.”
    “But my right arm is yours. When you’ve gone through what I’ve gone through, you learn fast what men to trust with your life and what men not to trust.”
    I didn’t know what to say to that. Finally I asked, “How long have you been retired from the DEA?”
    “A few months. I moved back out here so my daughter and I could live the quiet life.” He paused, then said, “My best friend growing up was like we are. He had this exaggerated sense of right and wrong. It used to get him nothing but trouble. He was a good man, and I think