Gin Palace 01 - The Poisoned Rose

afford it.”
    “You mean you can’t afford to buy it or you can’t afford to run it.”
    “Both.”
    He looked ahead, then to his left, out over the ocean. Finally, he looked back at me. He seemed to me to be enjoying himself a little too much—enjoying the power he held over me. I thought of the Seville and its air conditioning, of the tranquil and comfortable ride down Halsey Neck Lane he had just made in it, passing great homes, a good number of which were probably owned by people who, in one way or another, were as indebted to Frank as I was.
    He veered us closer to the shore line, where the sand was packed harder and was easier to walk on. Waves roared, then broke, collapsed, and retreated lazily, white foam hissing in their wake. The seagulls above beat their wings, trying to ride the windless sky.
    “I couldn’t imagine having to live on what you make,” Frank said.
    “I couldn’t imagine living on what you make, either.”
    “You’re still working for that restoration company, driving that delivery truck, sweeping the floors?”
    I nodded.
    “It’s almost a record for you, isn’t it?”
    I glanced out over the gray Atlantic. A slight mist hit the air every time a wave crashed in, but it wasn’t cool.
    “They pay you minimum wage, right? Five-fifteen an hour. You bring home, what, two hundred a week? That’d be hard to live off anywhere. Doubly hard out here. You’re off the books, right. No benefits, no unemployment if you get laid off, no sick pay. You miss a day of work and you, what, go without eating for a week.”
    I didn’t look at him, just kept my eyes straight ahead, the way I did when I used to run this beach, heat, rain, snow.
    “Pretty much,” I said.
    “It’s a real shame, you know, a guy with your talents, your education, your smarts. It’s a waste.”
    “I know my resume, Frank. I don’t have a lot of time. You might want to get to it.”
    “I’ve got some good news for you and Augie, and I’ve got some bad news, too. The good news is a few days ago the FBI picked up a man in New Jersey, a known leg breaker out of Atlantic City named Silva. He’s got a record for assault, attempted murder, the whole thing. Plus, he’s the suspect in several Atlantic City area hits. They found in his possession the badge of the cop who was killed last November, along with his sidearm. The serial numbers were filed down, but only partially. The lab was able to recover them. So it looks like they’ve got your man. They’re extraditing him back here, where he’ll be charged with the murder of the cop and the Vogler kid. I thought you and Augie would want to know that. It’s been a while, but I figured it might still be on your minds.”
    I felt a lifting sensation in my gut. I felt I had just slipped out from under a tremendous weight.
    “Does Augie know?”
    “Not yet. I’m sure it’ll be a big relief to him when he finds out.”
    “I’ll tell him when I see him tonight.”
    Frank nodded. “Good.”
    “So what’s the bad news, Frank?”
    “People tell me you’re downstairs a lot, that you’ve seemed to hit your stride and are drinking more than ever.”
    I looked at Frank but I didn’t say anything. Anyway, what really could I say?
    “Is it true?”
    My apartment was small, and no matter where I went in the past three months, there was Tina. She had begun recently to demand a lot of attention, more than I was willing to give. More than I could give. Eventually I took every night to going downstairs, where she couldn’t follow me, to kill time till she fell asleep and it was safe for me to go back home. I had been doing well for a while, had found the peace I’d needed to stop drinking—well, drinking to excess. The last bout of heaving boozing I’d done before Tina came to live with me was the night I had trashed Frank’s office. But nowadays it seemed I had to be numb. Going downstairs and drinking free on George had become a ritual I didn’t dare skip, but for a different reason. I wasn’t trying to escapes ghosts now, I was trying to avoid a flesh-and-blood being.
    “You obviously have your sources, Frank. Why bother coming to me for confirmation?”
    “They can tell me what they see, but only you can tell me what’s really important: if it’s under control or not. So, be straight with me, MacManus, is it under control?”
    I knew all he wanted was for me to tell him that it was. I knew if I told him it wasn’t that he would put off the repayment of