The First Councel

I almost want to laugh. “I already told you, I didn’t kill anyone. You’ve got it all mixed up.”

“Then why don’t you alphabetize it for me?”

I think about it for a sec, but decide not to answer.

“Oh, you best not be yankin’ my rope,” Vaughn says. “Is that how you play it? You can hear my side, but I can’t hear yours?”

Again, I stay silent.

“Listen, Garrick, my boys took major risk to get to you-the least you can do is tell me how ya got sucked in.”

“Why, so you can use it against me? No offense, but I’ve had enough stupidity for one week.”

“You still caught up on that one? ’Cause if that’s the case, your stupidity’s just gettin’ started.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You got the big brain-use it. If I were the rough-and-tough bad guy, why would I spend all this time tryin’ to track you down?”

“Are you kidding? To set me up.”

He looks around at the empty passageway we’re standing in. “You see anyone settin’ you up?”

“That doesn’t prove anything.”

“Okay, so you want proof? How ’bout this one-if I came in that building to kill someone, you really think I’m dumb enough to use my real name?”

“You used it for a drug deal, didn’t you?”

He rolls his eyes. “That’s different and you know it.”

“Not to me it-”

“Don’t give me the legal bullshit!” he shouts, annoyed by my challenge. “If I want to kill someone, I kill ’em! That goes with the job. But I’m tellin’ ya right now, I didn’t do this one!”

“And that’s supposed to convince me?”

“What the hell else you want me to-” He cuts himself off and clenches his jaw. For at least a full minute, he stands there, stewing. Searching for a convincing explanation. Eventually, he looks up. “Answer me this, shortie. If I killed her and I’m tryin’ ta blame it on you, why’d I attach my own name to the one guy I know is about to look like suspect number one?”

There’s the question. The one that brought me right here.

“I’m waitin’-oh, yeah-just sitting here and waitin’.”

The problem is, even with all this new information, I can’t come up with a single good answer.

“You know I’m on target. You know it.”

Again, I give him nothing but silence.

“Tell me what happened-I’ll figure what’s up,” he offers, suddenly sweet. “Did it have somethin’ to do with that Simon guy? ’Cause whoever it was, they knew their shit and they knew how to pin the blame. On both of us.”

I take another look at Vaughn. The man’s smart-and though I don’t want to admit it-he may be right. “If I tell you this… ”

“Who’m I gonna tell? The police? Don’t flake-your secret’s safe.”

“Yeah… maybe.” With everything to lose, I take the next ten minutes to explain what happened-from spotting Simon in the bar, to finding the money, to Adenauer’s Friday deadline. I leave out the parts about Nora. When I’m done, Vaughn lets out a deep, thundering laugh.

“Damn, boy,” he says, covering his bright white teeth. “And I thought I was screwed.”

“It’s not funny-this’s my ass on the line.”

“Mine too,” he says. “Mine too.”

He hits it on the head with that one. For the past week, I’d assumed that Vaughn was going to be the missing piece. That when we finally got together, it’d all make sense. But listening to his story… I can’t help but feel like I’m back where I started.

“So whatta we do now?” he asks.

Realizing that I’ve got less than forty-eight hours until it goes public, I lean back against the wall and once again feel myself slipping to the floor. “I have no idea.”

“Nuh-uh, no way,” he says, reading my expression. “This ain’t the time to crumble.”

He’s right. Get it together. Pushing away from the wall, I feel around for a toehold. It’s got to be there somewhere. “What about your buddy Morty? He’s the one who set us up.”

“Morty hasn’t been in much of a talkin’ mood lately.”

“What do you mean?”

“His neighbors sniffed the smell late last week. When the super kicked in the door, they found Morty facedown on his white shag carpet. Throat sliced with piano wire.”

I look nervously at Vaughn. “You didn’t… ”

“I look like that much of a hump to you?”

“I didn’t mean… ”

“Sure you did-that thought hit your brain lickety-split. Sure, he’s fool enough to use that piano wire trick twice. Like I’m some dumb-ass piece of street trash beneath your Ivy League loafers.”

“I went to a state school.”

“I don’t care where you went,” he shoots back. “Unlike you, it don’t matter to me.”

“What’re you-”

“I looked you up, Michael. Don’t forget where you’re from.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I listened to ya from word one.”

“You had a gun to my head!”

“Don’t gimme that-I didn’t press you ’bout Simon or quiz you ’bout Caroline. I took one look in your scaredy eyes and knew you were telling truth. Now I may not be one of your Brainiac buddies-but if I’m crazy enough to sniff the lines you’re sellin’ me, I expect you to return the favor and hand me the benefit of the damn doubt.”

“I wasn’t trying to judge you, Vaughn, it’s just the way you… ” I stop myself. One foot in my mouth is enough. “Why don’t we just get back to figuring this out?”