Page 37 of Lion & Lamb

Mickey’s dad loved places like this. Real salt-of-the-earth joints in the old working-class nabes. For all he knew, his dad had dragged him and his mom here at some point. Young Mickey had probably pumped some quarters into that very Donkey Kong machine.

When Mickey was two rounds in, Crazy Percy walked through the front door. Nobody bothered to look up. According to Mickey’s regular snitches, Crazy Percy was always in here this time of night. Mickey didn’t even have to come up with a tactic for the approach; Crazy Percy slid his large frame into the empty stool to Mickey’s left.

“Hey, Crazy. Want a beer?”

“Oh, shit, man.” Percy’s frame deflated a little. “Gimme a Jack instead. A double.”

Mickey nodded his permission to the bartender, who didn’t exactly measure as he poured the whiskey into a tumbler.

“You look like garbage,” Percy told Mickey, which was quite a statement coming from a man nicknamed “Crazy.” This was not a nickname Percy embraced, but for years he’d been the guy who was willing to do pretty much anything (steal cars, break legs, maybe even murder) for low, low prices, so the moniker was hard to shake. Percy was forever looking for a way to turn a fast buck, but he always undervalued himself. With a little ambition, Mickey thought, he could be a proper criminal.

“I couldn’t be better,” Mickey said. “In fact, I’m getting married.”

“Thought youweremarried.”

“I’m in the market for a ring, and here’s the thing—my sweetheart is a huge Birds fan. I mean, she, like, lives for it. So I’m looking for something like…a Super Bowl ring.”

Percy groaned, then downed his whiskey as if it might be taken away from him.

“Heard you had a line on one,” Mickey continued. “Something really special that just came on the market.”

“I wouldn’t even know what a Super Bowl ring looks like. What, does it have little footballs or buffalo wings on it or something? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Percy, you’re breaking my heart here.”

“Look, okay, I know where you’re going with this. I didn’t have anything to do with Archie Hughes.”

“But you saw his car.”

Crazy Percy stared at his drink, knowing that this conversation could go one of two ways. He decided on the easy way. “Yeah, I did. There was another fancy car parked nearby too.”

Mickey tried to hide his excitement. “You remember the make and model?”

“A Bentley. Red or maroon, something like that. The thing was gorgeous. Couldn’t believe somebody had left it out there that time of night.” The thought of boosting it had clearly crossed Percy’s mind. But maybe he wasn’tthatcrazy.

“Did you see anyone behind the wheel? A woman, maybe?”

“Nah, there was nobody in the car. Unless they were hiding in the back seat.”

“You sure?”

“I didn’t see a soul. Not until you cops rolled up, and then I got the hell out of there.”

The car, though. That was enough.

Francine Hughes drove a red Bentley.

Chapter33

9:32 p.m.

“WHAT’S THAT?Hang on, kiddos, let me find out. Excuse me, miss?”

The waitress at the Rittenhouse Hotel bar was the same one from the night before, but gone was any hint of flirtation. In its place was an icy veneer. Veena must havereallyrubbed her the wrong way. That’s what Veena did for a living, but Cooper needed to make it right. He liked it here.

“Yes?” she said quietly.

“I’m on the phone with some old war buddies…okay, that’s a lie.” Cooper showed her his best smile. “Mykidsare on the phone, and they have a very important mixology query. What’s the real difference between a Rob Roy and a Shirley Temple? I mean, is it the same thing only sexist?”

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