Gin Palace 01 - The Poisoned Rose

cross paths with the man who killed Carter, you do what you have to do. Understand me? When it’s over, give Long here a call. If there’s a mess, he’ll come clean it up. But try not to leave a mess for a change.”
    Long stepped to me and offered his business card. I didn’t take it. He stepped back, placing the card on my coffee table. He was watching me closely.
    There was only one question on my mind. I had to speak it. There was no way I would not speak it.
    “Are you sending me to kill a man, Chief?”
    “You live in this town, too,” he said.
    “What does that mean?”
    “Think about it. You’ve got forty-eight hours. After that it’s open season on you all over again. And believe me, MacManus, when the opportunity presents itself, I will send you straight to hell. Do we understand each other?”
    “I’m not killing anybody, Chief. Not for you, not for anyone.”
    “I wouldn’t worry about that, MacManus. This man won’t give you a choice. I can promise you that.”
    “This isn’t what I do.”
    “I thought you were supposed to be smart. You need it spelled out for you, in big bright letters, fine. They want her dead, MacManus. Her family wants her dead, not found. If you find her, you’ll be saving her life. You did that once before. I would assume you’d want to do it again.”
    “What do you mean, I did it once before?”
    The Chief smiled. He was enjoying tormenting me. “Just find her before he does, if he hasn’t already. Chances are you led him right to her tonight, in which case we’re already too late.”
    I watched from my front windows as the Chief and Long drove off in an unmarked police car. I waited for as long as I could bear, till I knew they were far enough away, then ran down to the street and got into my car. I followed Montauk Highway past the Shinnecock Indian Reservation. There I turned left onto Little Neck Lane, then right into Augie’s driveway.
    He greeted me at the door as I came up the walk. He must have seen me pull up. He was wearing a bathrobe over knee-length baggy shorts and a jersey. He leaned on his cane. His hand was gripping the handle so tight that his knuckles were white. I could tell by the way his bathrobe hung off him that there was something heavy in the right pocket.
    It was midnight but Augie looked awake enough. Rain clouds, steel gray and massive, like giant warships in the sky, had begun to gather in the northeast, obscuring the low moon. The terrible heat remained, but maybe its end was near now. Air was moving a little, the leaves in the scrub oaks lining the road across from Augie’s yard hissing lightly in a slight breeze.
    Augie saw the look on my face and said, “What happened?”
    “Where’s Tina?”
    “At Lizzie’s. Why?”
    “The Chief just paid me a visit.”
    “Come on,” Augie said, ushering me inside. He looked past me to his street and made a quick survey. “We’ll talk inside.”
    We sat across from each other at his kitchen table. I told him about the Chief, what he had said, and about Frank calling in his favor. Then I started to tell him about Marie Welles.
    “I don’t know of any family named Welles on Halsey Neck Lane,” Augie said.
    “Maybe they just moved there.”
    “Maybe.”
    I told him then everything I knew about her. He listened carefully, but the instant I mentioned Scully’s name, a look came across his face that made me stop.
    “What?” I said.
    “Hang on a second.” Augie got up and left the room. He went down the hall to his study and came back a minute later with a manila envelope in his hand. I could tell it contained photos. Augie sat down and opened the envelope and spread the photos out on the table. He searched through them and finally picked one out and handed it to me.
    It was a surveillance shot of a man walking out of a bar. It was taken at night, from a distance, but it was good enough of a shot for me to see that the man was Scully.
    “Is this him?” Augie said.
    I nodded
    “That’s Will Scully. He deals drugs out of that bar in Sag Harbor, the Dead Horse, the one that kid Vogler was shot in front of. The Horse was on the top of my list of places to stakeout last spring. A lot of heroin moves through there. Most of what comes out to the East End is headed there. Which makes you wonder about the name, doesn’t it? The Dead Horse. Anyway, Scully is a major player in the local trade. That’s all I really know about him, except that he doesn’t much like having his