Phantom Prey

lockup, and talked to Antsy, who had mostly recovered from resisting arrest.
    "I ain’t giving you shit,” Antsy said, when they walked into the interview room.
    “We don’t need you to give us shit,” Lucas said, pulling up a chair. “You’re going to Stillwater. For a long time. That deal is done. We just want to chat about your sister-in-law. There’s no criminal aspect to it. We just want to chat.”
    Antsy’s lawyer looked at him and shrugged.
    Antsy said, “What about?”
    “That bump on her tummy, is that Siggy’s work?”
    “Why wouldn’t it be?” Antsy asked.
    “Because we happen to know that she was very friendly with another of Siggy’s employees,” Del said. “So: you think the baby was Siggy’s?”
    Antsy’s brow beetled. “She was fuckin’ somebody else?”
    “That’s an indelicate way of putting it, but, yes,” Lucas said. “She was fuckin’ somebody else. With a lot of enthusiasm. Christ, we thought they were gonna do it on the kitchen table, with the blinds up. We coulda made a porno movie.”
    “Ah, shit,” Antsy said. “But—the bump was his. He snuck back here four months ago, they met at the Radisson over in Minneapolis. She said nobody was watching her.” He gnawed at his thumbnail for a while, and then said, “You know what Sig was good at?”
    “What?”
    “He was good at getting the stuff out of Miami, talking to those assholes,” Antsy said. “He was good at keeping the dealers in line— making sure we got paid, at first. Later, we got the money up front. When one of the dealers had a problem with somebody, Siggy was good at smoothing that out.”
    “Yeah.”
    Antsy put his elbows on the table. “What Heather was good at, was moving the money. Figuring out how to get it into banks and into investments. That bitch knows where every nickel is. And when I called her up to get some cash for an attorney, she told me to blow it out my ass.”
    “She didn’t give you any,” Del said.
    “Not that—it’s not that she didn’t give me any,” Antsy said. He seemed deeply offended. “She laughed, and said what I told you. She said, ‘Blow it out your ass, Antsy.’ ”
    Later that day, they went over and knocked on Heather’s door. She came to the door with the baby. She said to Lucas, “I know who you are. I saw you on TV. You shot that woman in the heart. You were here when they shot my husband.”
    Lucas said, “This is completely unofficial. Everybody is happy that Siggy is dead. We just wondered, for our own selves . . . Did you set him up?”
    Heather looked up and down the hall, as if checking for hidden cameras, then smiled and reached out with her forefinger, and scratched Del on the left tit, and said, “I hope you boys enjoyed the floor show.”
    She shut the door and Del laughed.
    Lucas looked at his watch and said, “Want to go over to the St. Clair and get a milk shake?”
    Mark mcguire called Lucas and asked for the quarter-million dollars to start the website, offering a thirty percent interest in the business. Everybody called lawyers, accountants, and consultants.
    DEL.
    The day after Lucas killed Alyssa Austin, Del showed up in Lucas’s doorway, knocked on the frame, stepped inside.
    “How you doing?”
    “Fine,” Lucas said. “How’s Cheryl?”
    “Found out what’s wrong with her,” Del said. He was a little stunned. “She’s pregnant.”
    •  •  •
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