‘Come on, Polaski. Give a dying man some peace. Denny would fuck a donkey if you asked him to.’
‘Denny would fuck a donkey just because.’ She reluctantly took out her phone. Angie only used burners, so she could control who got in touch with her. She pulled Denny’s number from the Rolodex in her head and started typing. She asked Dale, ‘I guess you want this to happen now?’
‘Today is good. Half of Iceberg’s bank is on Cheshire. Denny keeps him busy bailing out girls, that should buy me at least a week.’
She studied his watery eyes. Red shot through the whites like yarn. ‘Just a week? That’s all you’ve got left?’
‘I got it worked out. If my kidneys don’t get me, this will do the job.’ He pulled a small baggie of white powder out of his jacket pocket. ‘One hundred percent pure.’
‘Every dealer on the planet says his cocaine is one hundred percent pure.’ She finished typing the text. ‘It’s probably a laxative.’
‘It’s real,’ Dale said, because of course he’d tested it. ‘I figure this much coke after all these years, they’ll be peeling my heart off the ceiling.’
‘Sounds great.’ Angie sent the text to Denny. She tucked her phone into her purse. ‘Make sure I’m not the one who finds your body.’
‘Hand to God,’ he swore. ‘But lookit, I want you to promise me again, Polaski. You can take your cut of the money, but you’ll make sure Delilah is comfortable, right? Not livin’ large, but in a nice place, with good neighbors—not like that Asian bitch I gotta deal with. Plenty of healthy food and organic shampoo and all that shit.’
‘Sure.’ Another promise Angie wasn’t certain she would keep. ‘But why are you timing it like this? You can eke out another week, make sure it all goes through.’
He shook his head. ‘I can’t go another couple of weeks. I’m sick of this. Sick of living. I want it over.’
She guessed that he was being honest, but the other part was that Dale knew Delilah would be furious when she learned that the money wasn’t going to be handed over in one lump sum. All she would have to do was throw a tantrum and Dale would capitulate, which meant that Angie had to be his posthumous balls. ‘Why me? You married Delilah so your ex-wives couldn’t get their hands on your windfall. Problem solved. You could hire a lawyer to keep her on a leash. Why do I have to be her banker?’
‘Because a lawyer would blow through half the wad before he figured out she was playing him. You don’t give a shit about nobody, especially her. She’ll beg and cry for more money, and you’ll tell her to fuck off.’
Angie couldn’t argue with that.
‘And because she’ll spend it,’ he said. ‘She’s too stupid to plan for the future. She wants everything right now, as much as she can get, as fast as she can get it.’
‘Wonder who she gets that from?’
Dale chose not to get her meaning. ‘Kids like her, they don’t understand the value of a dollar. She’s been struggling all her life, and that’s on me. The pills. The H. And then Virginia with all her shit . . .’ Dale took out his handkerchief. He blew his nose. His tears looked cloudy as they fell from his eyes. ‘Jesus,’ he said. ‘It’s the thing.’ He meant the fact of his dying, that he was losing control of his faculties. WebMD listed this as a side effect. Vivid dreams. Hallucinations. Memory loss. Lack of coordination.
Dale blew his nose again. He wiped his tears.
Angie watched him struggle to rein in his emotions. She felt cold, even though the van was broiling. Pain could be infectious. She couldn’t afford to let it in.
Dale said, ‘I just wanna make sure this is done right.’
Angie had never excelled at doing things right. ‘What’s to stop me from cleaning out all the money and leaving Delilah high and dry?’
‘There’s oversight from the law firm. You can only write checks to landlords and the power company and places like that, but not like Macy’s or McDonald’s.’
Angie nodded, but she could think of a thousand ways to get around the restriction. Step one: turn herself into a landlord.
Dale said, ‘You promised me, Angie. I’ve got your word. I’m not saying that means anything, but I will tell you that I’m gonna get downstairs a lot quicker than you are, and if you fuck over my daughter, I’m gonna be waiting for you in hell.’
She didn’t want to admit that the warning scared her. ‘You don’t think I’ve got a shot at heaven?’
He tossed the used handkerchief onto the floor. ‘Tell me why you’re so interested in Fig’s wife.’
‘Because I’m being paid to be.’
‘Not a new interest, though.’
Angie smiled. ‘Why didn’t you ever use that brain on the job?’
‘They didn’t pay me enough.’ He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. ‘Stalking can get you ten years in big-girl prison.’
Angie wondered who he thought she was stalking. Sara, sure, but she had been following Jo, too. ‘What makes you think I’m stalking somebody?’
‘I’m not as stupid as I look, Polaski. You came to me begging for a job. Your husband was trying to make a case against Marcus Rippy. I did some digging.’
Angie felt the hair on the back of her neck go up. She always kept an eye out because of Will. She hadn’t even seen Dale coming. ‘What do you think you know about me?’
‘That you’d fuck over the only guy in the entire world who doesn’t think that you’re a worthless, cold-blooded bitch.’
‘Worthless,’ Angie repeated, because that was the only blow that landed. Tanking Will’s case against Rippy wasn’t about anything else but getting paid. She asked, ‘Any more pearls of wisdom?’
‘Take care of this thing with Fig’s wife. We need Rippy solid for another two weeks. My lawyer says the escrow account is totally legit. Two weeks from now, when those shovels dig into the ground, the two-fifty hits Delilah’s trust fund and she’s taken care of for the rest of her life. That shovel don’t hit, even one day late, then there’s nothing and my entire life’s been for shit.’ Dale pushed open the door. The sun knifed the van in two. ‘I can’t go to my grave worrying about my deal falling through because that cocksucker Rippy can’t keep his dick in his pants.’
‘I’ll take care of it,’ Angie said, but she wasn’t sure.
‘Good.’ The van shook as Dale struggled to get out. He was dizzy. Angie didn’t know if it was from the heat or from whatever was killing him. She couldn’t force herself to care. All that she knew was that the sooner Dale died, the sooner she would be free of his prying and his sickness and all the other despicable things about him that weighed her down.
‘Me again.’ Sam took his seat on the other crate. ‘Is there anything else?’
She held up the green phone that he’d taped together. ‘When is this going to work?’
‘She needs to get a text through Wi-Fi or from her network. Once she replies, the phone will activate.’
‘Why not just send her a text?’
‘Because she’ll have to reply or the program can’t download. User interface, yo. It’s a bitch.’
‘Can I listen to her calls?’
‘Do people talk on the phone?’ He looked puzzled. ‘I never really thought about coding for that. I mean, there’s text and shit. Isn’t that enough?’
Angie was sick of feeling old. ‘What about FaceTime? Skype?’
‘Yeah, that’s trickier. So, with VOIP you—’
‘I’m going to shove this thing up your ass if you don’t use words that I can understand.’
‘I thought I was.’ He was being pouty again. ‘FaceTime, Skype, that’s delayed. There’s a program I loaded remotely through an app on her phone. It records any video calls that come in, but you have to wait for the call to be over before you can watch it.’
‘How do I access it?’
He gently took the phone from her. He woke up the screen. He pointed to an app showing an old-timey gramophone. ‘Press this and it gives you a list. Press the video call you want to see, and it loads. But only after the call is finished.’