Page 11

Follow the Rules

Hank was down on all fours, one shoe on, fishing around in the bottom of the front-hall closet for its mate, while Elmer watched, stretched across the kitchen doorway.

“What did she do, Elmer? Stand on the other side of the room and whip all my shoes in here, one by one? Good thing you didn’t get decked by a ricochet.”

He found the one he needed, creaked to stand upright, and then dropped down to sit on the stairs while he tied the laces.

He looked at the dog who’d followed everything with his eyes.

“Pam likes shoes to be kept in the closet, Elmer.

Just so you know.

In case you ever get any of your own.”

Hank stood, stepped over to Elmer to scratch his ears, and then checked his watch.

He had to get back to the casino before Padma missed her tea.

Especially now, to avoid suspicion, he needed to keep to that routine even though he no longer had his daily meet with Dave.

His chin dropped to his chest as he remembered his pal’s easy laugh.

He swallowed the lump in his throat before it grew.

* * *

The morning Dave was murdered, Hank had been doing what he had done every weekday morning for the past four years or so—waiting to commit grand larceny.

When Dave hadn’t shown up at their meeting spot, or answered his texts and calls, Hank had gone looking for him.

He wasn’t sure why he had swung by Dave’s house; perhaps because he couldn’t ask around the casino and he had to start somewhere.

He hadn’t expected to find him there, and he sure hadn’t expected to find him murdered.

Dave’s murder.

That’s how Hank saw it—a murder and a message—because how else could a man come to be found lying in a pool of blood under his garage door, with his head—Hank didn’t like to think about that part—and a $1,000 casino chip lying precisely in the center of his chest? The hitmen’s calling card.

The sight had sent chills slithering up Hank’s spine and dropped him to his knees.

Once he’d caught his breath, he’d chanced a further look, and that’s when he’d noticed Dave’s dead fingers were curled around the handle of an ax.

Dave had fought back.

Of course he had.

Hank hoped Dave had given them hell.

He was tall, strong, and muscular, with so much heart.

And his garage had looked like a war zone.

But shouldn’t there have been blood spatter? Maybe they’d draped a tarp and taken it with them.

Yep.

That’s how it had played out.

The hitmen had jumped Dave when he’d come out to go to work after Marlene had left.

The ax was the only weapon Dave could grab.

There’d been a struggle, and they’d made a mess of the garage before Dave was ultimately subdued.

They’d tried to force him to give up his pals, and when he’d refused, they’d shot him execution style and used the garage door to crush his skull as their coup de grace.

Hank had given a low moan as another thought crossed his mind—maybe they’d restrained him, and the garage door had crashed down while Dave was still alive.

Hank hoped it had been fast and they’d shot him.

The strategically placed chip sent the message—this was a professional casino hit.

And a professional hit meant a police investigation.

And he and the guys couldn’t have anyone investigating Dave’s life.

The authorities had to think Dave had died in a freak accident.

That’s why, as soon as Hank could breathe again, he’d stood and then kicked a path through the crap strewn about the garage.

He’d pushed away the lawn mower and the Christmas tree stand—who the fuck has a Christmas tree stand in the middle of their garage in July?—he’d grabbed the ax, checked the blade for blood, and finding it clean had tucked it behind a tall, red tool chest where the police wouldn’t notice it.

He’d returned to Dave and, avoiding the pooling blood, knelt beside his friend’s body.

He’d rested his hand gently over his still heart, softly patted it twice, and carefully picked up the $1,000 casino chip and tucked it deep in his front pocket.

Then, satisfied the garage looked like the scene of a catastrophic accident, he had pulled out his phone and called 911.

Dave was dead, and their message was received.

Hank knew they were in over their heads, so he’d hurriedly met with Larry and Andre, and then gone to see Hector. He had handed the barber enough cash to ensure he was well incentivized to find and take care of whoever was coming for them.

Hank and the guys had one optimistic thought: If Dave had ratted on them, they’d already be dead.

* * *

It didn’t have to play out like this, but Hank didn’t have much choice. It was obvious Dave, Andre, and Larry had worked out the details before they pitched him their plan. Hank suspected they may have even rehearsed it.

Hours after Dave had carried his backpack of cash out of Hank’s office, the four men had met at the marina with their fishing gear and taken Hank’s boat out on the water. It was the perfect night for dusk fishing, but they hadn’t dropped their lines. They’d put on some music to mask their low voices, aware sound carries across water; they’d each popped open a can of beer and sat forward in their chairs.

Dave began. “It’s a glitch in the system. It’s kind of technical but I found a way I can hack the video slot machines and make them think they’re getting money deposited so they issue payout vouchers. I service the slots daily, and first thing when I start my shift, I trigger them to spit out the vouchers. Then I do a hard reset. The history is erased. Gone. I’ve checked and rechecked, and it’s clean. Untraceable.”

Larry had picked up the plan. “Dave creates three vouchers in three different amounts, always less than five grand so they can be redeemed at the ATMs without ID, and always totaling less than ten grand, because bank transactions above ten thousand dollars are flagged. We can’t move more than ten grand a day.”

Hank’s blood pressure shot up. How long had the guys been working on these details? Larry was a bank manager. A deliberate, planning kind of guy. Not the type who did anything on a whim. It had taken him weeks to commit to their ill-fated investment, and its demise had exacerbated his caution. Nowadays you couldn’t get him to golf without at least a week’s notice. Preferably more.

Dave said, “I pocket the three vouchers, and then we’ve got to get them from the casino to the bank. This is where you come in. I take my break and meet you off-site at a prearranged meeting spot.”

Larry stepped back in. “No one at the casino knows you two are friends, right?”

Hank and Dave nodded. Dave said, “That’s how Hank wanted it, right from the start. And now it works to our favor. If we slip up in any way, no one will suspect we’re working together; as far as anyone at the casino is concerned, we don’t even know each other.”

It was Andre’s turn. “For the handoff, we’ll have a rotation of fifteen meeting spots. I’ll enter the locations into each of your vehicle service records. You open the booklet, check the date, and there will be a code for which spot you’re meeting at. It’ll be a park, a mall, Walmart. Somewhere public, but not too public.”

He nodded in response to Hank’s raised eyebrows. “In case Dave’s ever suspected, the less predictable his movements are, the less chance he has of being followed.”

Hank had to admit, if they needed to arrange drop-off locations, it made sense for Andre to pick the spots, since he’d been running a courier service in the area for the past thirty years and knew every nook and cranny in the region. But, holy fuck. Now they were getting into 007 shit. Hank saw a glimmer of hope and looked from one friend to the other. “Am I being pranked? ’Cuz if I am, you guys got me good.”

They ignored his question, and the glimmer faded.

Dave continued, “I hand the vouchers off to you and I go back to work. You go about your regular routine, meet Andre for your morning coffee, and leave the vouchers with him.”

If he wasn’t being pranked, he was listening to a plot to defraud his employer. Hank blanched as he realized how the movements Dave described would implicate him. “Why do I have to take them to Andre? Why don’t you just take them there yourself?”

Was it just for that reason? So he’d be in deep too?

But no one said that aloud; instead Larry answered, “You visit with Andre most days anyway. It keeps with the routine, but now it also helps with our plan.”

Larry was right about that. It was an indulgence of sorts that Hank left his office every day and personally took anything needing to be couriered to Andre’s business-supply storefront. He could have sent someone or arranged a pickup, but he liked to get out of the casino, see what was going on around town, pick up coffees, and swing by to see his pal. It had been his routine for so long, it wouldn’t arouse suspicion. In fact, if he stopped doing it—that could raise red flags.

Andre said, “You hand off the vouchers to me, and I get them cashed.”

“How?”

Hank said.

Andre shrugged. “It’s the nature of my business in a casino town. Wherever there’s a casino, there are people who don’t want to cash in their own vouchers. They don’t want their wife to know they won, or their boss, or the guy they owe money to. Or they’re casino employees.”

Andre nodded in response to Hank’s scowl. “It’s a fact of life. I merely provide a needed service. I have guys who will take the vouchers to the casino, cash them in at an ATM—”

Larry cut in. “Again, that’s why each voucher is under five thousand dollars, so they don’t have to go to a teller, and they don’t have to show ID.”

Hank thought of the two hundred surveillance cameras in the casino. “But if the same guy comes too often, he’ll be noticed and questioned.”

Andre waved dismissively. “I have a never-ending roster of people looking to make quick cash. Pick this up, deliver that, run this errand. Pretty much anyone who gets off a bus in the downtown core and needs an easy buck knows to swing by my shop. They bring the casino cash back to me, I pay them fifty bucks, and they’re on their way. Most I won’t see again for weeks.”

“You don’t think they’ll run off with the money?”

Hank asked.

Larry said, “Some will. That’s the cost of doing business”—he shrugged—“and I’ve factored ten percent attrition into the projection. In our trial run—”

“—Your what?”

Hank gulped.

Dave said, “Remember I told you I used Marlene’s family. That was just a few times. Then we talked about it and—”

“—What? You guys talked about this without me?”

Larry put his hand on Hank’s knee. “We knew what we were asking, and we wanted to be sure, before we asked.”

Andre fished four more beers from the cooler and passed them around. “We didn’t want to bring this to you if it wasn’t going to work.”

They popped open their cans, and Hank slugged down half of his and then rested the cool container against his forehead for a minute.

Larry said, “So, in our trial run, we found all but one runner brought the money straight back.”

Andre nodded. Larry continued, “Then Andre couriers the cash to me, at the bank. And I transfer it to our offshore account—”

“—Wait. Our offshore account? You’ve already opened an account?”

Holy fucking mother of God. Hank thought he might vomit overboard. He shouldn’t have stuffed down that hot dog at the marina snack bar.

“I open them all the time at the bank, so when I was doing one for a customer, I just added another into the correspondence. I have all your information on file, so I set it up. It’s no big deal. Offshore accounts have this fancy cachet”—Larry waggled his fingers—“but you wouldn’t believe how many normal people have them. Anyway, the cash arrives, and I wire it to our account. Again, never more than ten grand at a time.”

Hank’s head was spinning. He took a sip of his beer. These guys were so deep into this plan, they wouldn’t be happy if he’d killed it. They didn’t really need him. His role was pretty much perfunctory, moving vouchers from Dave to Andre. But they’d be robbing his casino, and if he didn’t stop them, he’d be just as guilty. But without the money. But they hadn’t committed the crime yet. So far, they were just talking. Hank realized there were a lot of buts in his thoughts. He looked from one man to the other. “How much are you talking?”

Larry answered, “I figure if Dave prints out vouchers five times a week, at about $9,800 a day, give or take, and we do that for forty-six weeks a year—we’ll talk about that logic in a minute—that’s about two and a quarter million a year, accounting for the lowlifes who take off with some of our cash. It’ll take us just over four years to reach ten million. That’s two and a half million each. Then we pull the plug and retire.”

“Two and a half million,”

Hank echoed in a quiet voice.

“It’s not buy-a-private-island-travel-the-world wealth, but it’s a nice cushion. If we make the right decisions, it can last us. And it’s two and a half million more than we have now,”

Larry said.

Hank studied his empty beer can, then looked up. “Why forty-six weeks?”

He noticed the other men’s shoulders relax, perhaps relieved that was his only follow-up question so far. They shifted in their chairs, leaned back.

Larry swallowed some beer and crushed his can. “It’s one of the rules. My research showed, when people do this kind of thing they get caught if they don’t follow the rules. If we’re going to do this”—Larry looked from one to the other—“we can’t get caught. I’m not going to jail. Look at me. I’m a handsome man with a sparkling personality. I’d be way too popular in prison.”

“Not if you packed your cologne,”

Andre quipped.

The men chuckled. Hank wasn’t sure he’d wanted to do this. But he wasn’t sure he had a choice. Another sentence with a but.

Larry started: “Rule Number One.”

He pointed to Hank and Dave. “Continue to keep your friendship on the down-low at the casino. Less chance of getting caught if people don’t know you’re friends.”

No problem there. That was just maintaining the status quo.

“Rule Number Two. Take your regular holidays. Most workplace embezzlement and fraud scams get tipped off when someone’s afraid to leave their post. So you have to take your regular holidays. And not at the same time, referring back to Rule Number One.”

Larry pointed at Dave. “So you take your three weeks.” Larry pointed at Hank. “And you take a different three weeks. Andre and I will take ours when you take yours. That gives us forty-six productive weeks a year.”

That seemed reasonable, although Hank wasn’t sure how Pam would feel about not being able to holiday with Marlene. But it wasn’t as though a Caribbean cruise was in their budget.

“Same goes if you have training or anything that takes you away from your regular duties. People get caught when they get territorial and don’t want others to replace them. That raises red flags. So if something comes up, accept it and we’ll adjust. Rule Number Three. Spend no extra money. None. Keep the purse strings tight. Tighter even. All the better to avoid suspicion.”

Dave said, “Can’t we get a little something? Anything? My cash flow is so low . . .”

Andre glared at Dave over his bifocals. “You wanna be somebody’s prison fuck bunny?”

Larry put his hand on Andre’s arm. “We’ve got to be smart, Dave. You came up with this plan, and it’s genius. But it will take discipline to work. Four years. Just tough it out that long, and we’ll be good.”

He waited for Dave to nod. “And finally, Rule Number Four.” Larry leaned forward. “Tell no one. Tell. No. One.” Larry looked pointedly at each man. “Not Marlene. Not Pam. Not Shalisa. And not Nancy. Do not tell them. If you think of telling them, picture them in the prison visiting room.” He straightened.

As the playlist transitioned between songs, the only sound was the water gently lapping against the boat’s hull.

Hank took a deep breath. “Look. You guys have put a lot of thought into this. And maybe it’s doable. Maybe we could pull it off. But aside from the logistical aspect of it, stealing from the casino goes against everything I’ve stood for over the past thirty-one years of my career. I can’t do this. Once we cross that line, we can’t go back.”

Dave kept his eyes on the boat’s floor and said in a low voice, “You’ve already crossed the line, Hank.”

Hank’s head jerked toward Dave.

Dave looked up. He winced as he said, “I showed you the cash this morning. In the eight hours since, you didn’t call security or the police. Instead, you met me on your boat.”

Hank scratched his ear and squinted at the setting sun. Had he missed his chance to put a stop to this?

Andre raised his eyebrows. “You owe us, Hank.”

And there it was.

The guys never threw it in his face, so to mention it then made the sting sharper.

“Andre’s right.”

Dave grimaced. “We only invested because of you.”

“It was our own fault,”

Larry jumped in. “We’re grown men. No one made us do anything. But we followed you into that hole, Hank. You said it was a sure thing. And then said it again. We believed you, and we lost our money. And we lost more. Nancy has barely spoken to me since. I see the way Pam looks at you, Hank.”

Andre said, “All our wives look at us that same way. Like we let them down. It’s for them. For Marlene, Shalisa, Nancy, and Pam. Without them we have nothing. This is our chance to get them back. But we need you, Hank. We’re either all in or all out.”

Hank cringed. He had a flash memory of Pam chasing him around their bedroom, trying to plant her morning kiss on him. How he’d finally let her catch him and he’d brace himself as she blew her stale breath in his face. How they’d laugh and he’d wrestle her to the bed, and they’d fuck their faces off. That never happened anymore.

Hank had pushed himself up from the captain’s seat and checked the anchor line. Satisfied it still held, he sat down, took another swig of his beer, and then said, “Do you think it would have happened anyway?”

Dave, Andre, and Larry exchanged looks before Larry asked, “What would have happened anyway?”

Hank’s eyes followed the flight of a seagull as it soared above them. “That our marriages would have burnt out.”

He brought his gaze back to his friends. “Do you think it’s just because of the money, or do you think things would have turned south anyway?”

After a moment, Dave said, “I don’t know about you guys, but for me I’m one hundred percent sure it’s the money. Marlene and I were happy. Sure, she can bitch at me like a trucker.”

His smile opened up. “But if she didn’t have to worry about money, you put on the right song, and she starts swiveling her hips and she’s in my arms like a sack of iron filings to a magnet. If I can get our money back, I get her back.”

Hank’s eyes widened at Dave’s confidence. He looked at Andre. “And you?”

Andre rubbed his face and fixed his eyes on the horizon. “Shalisa and I’ve had our challenges. That’s for sure. But she loves me. Or at least, she did. I’ve disappointed her. In a lot of ways.”

He wiped a tear away and swallowed. “But she is my queen.” He turned his head to look at his friends, his eyes glistening, his smile widening. “From the moment I saw her across the gym on the first day of high school. She is and always will be my queen. If we didn’t have to worry about the minor details of life—you know, like a roof over our head and eating”—he chuckled—“we’d be solid again.” He locked eyes with Dave. “I’d get my queen back too.”

Hank scratched his chin, then looked at Larry.

“Well. To be perfectly honest—and I didn’t know I was coming to a Dr. Phil taping when I got on this boat. But okay. I’ll play along. Nancy and I have some problems beyond money. I don’t want to get into it. But I will. Soon. It’s just sometimes life pushes you to make decisions you never thought you’d have to make. So, I’m not sure. I’m really not sure.”

He blew out a breath. “But the money would help. What about you, Hank?”

Hank watched the seagull skim along the water’s surface and then swoop back up. While he followed its path with his eyes, he said, “She is my everything, and I am empty without her.”

The men sat quietly for a moment, and then Andre gave a low whistle and whispered, “That’s beautiful, Hank. What song is that from?”

Hank kept his eyes on the seagull and replied, “No song. It’s just my thought.”

Dave stood up and brought his hands together in slow applause. “Hank Manilow, everybody. Our very own Hank Manilow.”

Hank smiled sheepishly and gave a half bow.

* * *

By the morning of Dave’s murder, they had $9.3 million split between six offshore accounts and were twelve weeks from pulling the plug.

With Dave gone, Larry calculated they had between $2.3 and $3.1 million each—depending on what they decided to do with Dave’s share. It was only right it should somehow get to Marlene, but they weren’t sure how to go about that yet. Besides, she seemed to be doing okay, thanks to Andre, who had insisted they each have one-million-dollar life insurance policies. He had said they owed it to their wives to be sure they were taken care of if things went off the rails.

And now things were off the rails.

Things were flailing free-form through the sky, and Hank was trying with all his might to get them back on track before it was too late.

And his first step in that direction was to drop off Padma’s tea and find out exactly how involved his new boss was in Dave’s hit.