"I'm going to move their cars around back, and the truck. Best that no one thinks anyone's here, and that means it's less likely that Rick is going to be dropping by."
Anything that might keep Rick from showing up sounded like a good idea to me. Carpington and Greenway indicated which pockets held their keys, and I got them out. "Why don't I do that while you keep them covered?" I suggested.
Earl shook his head, handed the gun over to me in exchange for the keys. "You watch them."
The gun was warm. I didn't know whether that was from Earl holding it, or the fact that it had just been fired. My pulse raced as I wrapped my fingers around it.
"Uh, the safety?" I said to Earl. "Which way is the safety supposed to go?"
He rolled his eyes. I knew what he was thinking. This was not the way to inspire fear in your captives. First, I was scared shitless when he fired the gun, and now I needed a tutorial in its operation. "It's off now. That way, if one of them does something stupid, you can blow their fucking heads off."
"Sure," I said. I raised the gun up, moved it around, got the feel of it. Now Greenway and Carpington looked even more nervous, especially when the gun swung in their direction. They must have thought that their chances of being killed had risen exponentially now that the weapon had passed from Earl to me. It wasn't that I appeared more ruthless. On the contrary. But everything about me screamed incompetence. I made a special effort not to point the gun at either of them. I was as worried about my incompetence as they were.
Earl said he'd be back in a couple of minutes.
"Who's your friend?" Greenway asked once he heard the main door close.
"Just another happy resident of Valley Forest Estates," I said, waving the gun about, trying to look casual with it. "So what brings you all out here tonight?"
"We're having a meeting," Greenway said. "And we're expecting someone. You might be smart to finish up your business and get out of here before he shows up."
"Who would that be? Rick?"
"I think he's out looking for you right now. He's very upset with you."
"You should see my car," I said, and Greenway just looked at me, not understanding. "He seems like a guy who could benefit from some anger management classes. But then, I guess if he were well behaved, he wouldn't have gotten the job of killing Sam Spender for you, or Stefanie."
"That's ridiculous. I don't know what you're talking about."
"I think you do, and that's why my friend and I decided to pay you a visit tonight, to find out what you do know. Because I have to tell you, it's very much in my interest to know as much as possible."
"I didn't have anything to do with those murders!" Carpington said, struggling to get back up off the floor and into his chair.
Headlight beams swept past the office window. Earl was moving the Caddy around back.
"So if it's not Rick coming by this evening, who is it?" I asked. "Let me guess. It's the famous Mr. Benedetto. He's heard about how much you guys have fucked things up out here and he's coming to assess the situation."
Their silence said everything.
Finally, Greenway said, "I have a question, if you don't mind."
"Shoot," I said, then regretted the choice of word as I caught my reflection in the window. I saw a man who looked remarkably like me, but holding a gun, trying to put some fear into a couple of slimeballs. I had no idea who this person was. And I could not believe that he was composing sentences in his head that contained words like "slimeballs."
"Just who the hell are you and what business of yours is any of this?"
It was a good question, no doubt about it. And one that would take, if you were to do it properly, too long to answer. I said, "I sort of stumbled into all this, but now that I'm in it, I need to know as much about it as I can before I get out. My questions will probably be easier to answer than Mr. Benedetto's. What's he going to think when he gets out here and finds the two of you handcuffed, the ledger missing, the negatives gone, plus a few thousand in cash -"
"That money meant nothing," Greenway said.
"I guess not," I said. "Since it was fake. Is that the machine" - I pointed to the one outside Greenway's office door - "you used to print the stuff?"
"Look," said Greenway, "it wasn't something we did very often. Just when our cash flow was a bit down. Stefanie, I don't know what was up with her, sounds like she printed up a ton of the stuff before she decided to make a run for it."
Carpington said, "Fake? You were printing fake money?"
Greenway rolled his eyes. "No, Roger. We were printing real money. We got a franchise from the Mint."
"So you were paying me in counterfeit funds?" He was aghast. Imagine, buying a councilman's vote with bogus cash. Was that ethical?
"Not all of it, just the odd bill here and there. Look, you got to buy stuff, people accepted it, what are you worried about?"
"Why was Stefanie making a run for it?" I asked.