Like an animal he felt another animal circling. “Tripp.”
“It’s the craziest thing. No one has seen him since then. I’ve now talked to the police four different times in—” He looked at his wrist. “Five days. Turns out he was in big trouble with the SEC, probably about to be arrested. Do you know why I’m mentioning all of this to you?”
Roddy placed his spoon carefully next to his coffee and pushed the saucer away.
“The cops know someone helped him, and now they have a driver’s license with a photo of that guy,” Malcolm continued.
“They do?”
“Oh yes. They showed it to me not even an hour ago.”
“I should have known you wouldn’t come all the way over just to return my headphones.”
“Where is he? Panama or something? And how much of whatever this is got dreamed up at the Half Moon? Do I need to worry? Because I’m a little worried.”
Roddy looked surprised. “Is that where they think he is? Panama?”
“Yeah. It sounds like he rented an apartment there. He tried to open a bank account, and he used his passport as identification. For a guy who wants to disappear, he’s not that good at it. He used his real name.”
“Wow,” Roddy said. “They know about the bank account already? That’s really good.”
Malcolm had already lied to the cops once. That one could be explained away, but another lie and he could be charged with a crime. He knew it, but it was hard to think that way with Roddy sitting across from him looking as he always did, so helpless, so guileless. When he hired him, Malcolm had promised Roddy’s uncle that he’d look out for him, but he hadn’t, clearly, and now he was in this mess. Tripp had dragged him into something he probably didn’t understand.
“How in the world is that good?”
Roddy hesitated. “First tell me how they found the license. Tripp was supposed to leave that in our spot.”
“Where’s your spot?”
Roddy rubbed his chin.
The waitress appeared at their table with more coffee, told them their food would be out shortly. Once she moved on, Roddy said, “I guess I can tell you since you already saw the license.”
“Yeah I would think so.”
“Don’t be mad. It’s at the Half Moon. Was. Upstairs. Nothing’s there now, don’t worry. No one ever goes up there. Tripp couldn’t have it at home in case his wife found it.”
“Where upstairs?”
“In the bathroom vent. The cover pops right off.”
“You’re joking.”
Roddy shrugged. “Sorry.”
“The cops saw Tripp’s stuff.”
“When? Did they see papers? Or a laptop?”
“No, just a bag. Clothes. Some books.” Malcolm had so many questions it was hard to know which one to begin with. “They found the license in a box he rented at UPS.”
“Ah,” Roddy said.
“What’s the plan here? You really thought you were going to pull this off with a fake license?”
Roddy stared at him for a moment. The waitress came over with their food. Bacon and eggs for Malcolm, chocolate chip pancakes for Roddy. When she walked away, Roddy asked, “You think I’m dumb, don’t you?”
“What? No. Why would you ask that?”
Roddy shrugged. “Did you tell them?”
“Tell them what?”
“That it’s me. The license.”
What was with this kid that made Malcolm so annoyed. Yes I think you’re dumb, he thought, but then he remembered the feeling in his belly when he watched the thin strand of smoke curl up toward the basement ceiling, Jess reaching for a second match.
“No.”
“Are you going to tell them?”
Malcolm hesitated. “No.”
“Why?”
“Trust me, I do not know.”
Roddy dropped his chin and let out a long sigh. “Thank you,” he said.
“So tell me.”
Something sparked in Roddy, a confidence Malcolm had never seen. “Mark Duro has pay stubs, tax returns going back ten years, a lease, his own company, a retirement account, a social security number, a passport. It took forever. Tripp picked up the license from my guy last week. I guess he put it in his box for safekeeping.”
Malcolm gaped at him. “Look, Tripp’s partner has already been arrested. You have to figure out how to bail out of this. How did it even start?”
“He approached me just a few weeks after I started working at the Half Moon. A year and a half ago I guess. I had a really bad night. You know that regular Emma calls Limp Bizkit? He called me a faggot when I asked him to settle up. He threw a fifty in my face.”
“I didn’t know that,” Malcolm said. “I would have banned him.”
“You would have banned him?” Roddy smirked. “I don’t think so. You would have told me to deal.” And Malcolm realized he was right. He thought about how Bridget regularly cried in the walk-in and he never made her feel bad about it. Was Roddy allowed to cry in the walk-in, too?
“He threw the money in my face but it fell on the ground and I had to come around the bar to pick it up. It was embarrassing.”
Malcolm felt chastened but wasn’t sure what to say.
“Me and Tripp got to talking. He seemed disappointed that his son ended up a local cop. It was important to him that I knew he earned a lot of money and that he’d started with nothing. I didn’t mind listening. He asked me what I’m going to do with my life, if I’m going to stick around Gillam. He warned me about getting tied down, how one little decision might mean I’m trapped. I told him about my idea for an app. But what do I do with an idea? I can’t call up Apple. I have to build it, but my mom won’t help after everything that went down at school. And my uncle has helped enough.”
All around them, thanks to the warmth of the diner, people had removed their jackets and coats for the first time in days, and there was a vague scent of bodies needing to be washed.
“Anyway. I’m good at research. Tripp wanted to disappear because of something to do with work, and he didn’t love his wife anymore, and he said his kids are all on her side about everything. But to disappear you need a plan. You need a whole system that closes up on itself after every move. And you need money unless you’re okay with living rough for a while. Tripp isn’t the kind of guy who’d take a job that doesn’t require papers. He isn’t going to sweep streets.”
Roddy’s uncle was right. The boy was smart. “I hope he paid you cash up front, because I think the Feds are about to arrest him.”
“I plan to take my fee before I pass his money on to him. He can’t rob me because it comes to me first.”
Malcolm felt dread spring up in his gut, and a slow dawning that the way things looked was not the way things were.
“Is he in Toronto, Roddy?”
“No.”
Roddy looked at Malcolm with such clear-eyed seriousness. “I like Tripp, but I don’t trust him. I mean, look at what he’s doing to his family. I met his wife once. She seems like a nice lady. She raised their kids, stayed home with them, and he seems to think nothing of that, like it wasn’t work. I don’t know what he’s so mad at everyone about. He wanted to just pay me a fee at first, half up front and half when it was all done. But I didn’t believe I’d ever get it. And I need this money to live on while I build this app.”
Roddy swirled his last sip of coffee around the bottom of his cup. Malcolm was shocked at the recklessness of it but also, at the bottom of that, impressed. There was far more to Roddy than he thought.
“What’s the app?”
“You really want to know?”