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I’d been crammed in this stuffy office for 20 minutes with no mention of a doctor when it occurred to me.
“I really did have a heart attack, you know,” I said.
“Heart attack?” the detective asked. His name was Michael Boever. The slow-talking suit had been grilling me after the clerk made what’s what out of the information I unloaded on him.
“I think that detail might have been overlooked. My chest feels like its caving in and if you haven’t sent for someone to give me a look already, I could at least use a goddamn aspirin.”
“And when did this heart attack occur?”
“About two hours after I arrived in town.”
“You didn’t think to seek care until now?” he asked.
I couldn’t tell if he was trying to catch me in a lie or just trying to fill in some blanks. I wasn’t far into the story, but I already knew it wasn’t the kind of story this small metro detective was used to hearing.
“I was a little busy,” I said, shortly. Time was being wasted.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Cervetti, if you’ve recently suffered a heart attack we’ll make sure you receive medical attention,” he said, turning around and sitting back down in the office chair opposite of me. He’d sat down in that chair and gotten back up at least a half dozen times in the last 20 minutes. The more outlandish my tale seemed, the more the detective needed to walk off his skepticism, apparently.
“Great. Grand. Letting a doctor take a look at me at some point would be nice, is all I’m trying to say here.” I could afford to vent some of my frustration toward this detective, at least. As soon as the pieces started to fall into place and my story started checking out, he’d be swept aside by some Fed. Poor guy won’t know what he’s got until it’s gone.
“I don’t mean to downplay your recent medical misfortune, Cervetti, but I’d like to continue. At least, until a doctor arrives. You were saying that Rosso sent you here–sent you to Iowa City–to have a word with a dentist named Edward, who also happens to be some kind of meth pusher? Where does the girl, Carol, come into this equation?”
“She came up to grab her boy, Kevin. He came with me on my trip over from Chicago. I thought we could use some more time to get to know each other and figured it might do him some good to spend some time in a college town,” I lied. “Might inspire him to set some goals in life, you know?”
“Inspire him by bringing him along to, I expect, commit multiple felonies?”
“Don’t jump to conclusions, detective,” I snapped back.
He walked slowly over to a metal cabinet that hung crooked on the wall and retrieved a bottle of pills before tapping out a few in his hand.
“And this Edward. He abducted Carol?” Michael continued questioning. Sitting down, he plopped the pills in front of me, sitting back down in his office chair.
“But I don’t know where Ed has her holed up. Exactly. This guy is scum and you’re going to need me if you want to take him down.”
“So this is where we left off, but it begs a few questions, Cervetti,” Michael said, rolling forward in his chair as if to get up. He relaxed as if catching himself, playing it off like he was readjusting his posture. “How in the hell did this Edward get a hold of Carol, and where does Kevin fall in all of this.”
“The dentist is smart and lethal. He snatched Carol as she stepped outside to indulge in one of her vices, right underneath their noses.”
“Their noses?” the detective asked. His eyes were growing wide in what I took to be disbelief.
“Right, this is the other half of the equation,” I began. This is where my strongest asset comes into play, I thought. In a nonchalant gesture, I pushed both hands into my jacket pockets and let my elbows sit apathetic on the chair’s arm rests. I found the voice recorder deep in my right front pocket and flipped it around once or twice in my hand, ready to play my strongest hand. I’d be talking to federal police within an hour of hitting the play button.
“Carol and Kevin had some company,” I said, still palming the voice recorder.
“Let me guess, a psychopathic orthopedic surgeon?”
“Cute,” I said. Although that wouldn’t necessarily be jumping the shark, all things considered. Staring down at the tile floor, I let out a smirk and immediately a sting of guilt for my lack of urgency. Carol was still tied up in some innocuous residence and here I was playing grab ass with mr. detective.
“So who was she with, Cervetti?”
I looked up from the floor and my blood went cold at what I saw.
“Rosso,” I said.
Squinting out the office window I noticed the two unmistakable figures of Tony and Carlito. Rosso’s shadow, tweedle dee and tweedle dumb. Carl’s face was red with laughter and Tony was slapping him on the back, nodding vigorously, as some other haggard-looking man in a suit escorted them across the station, laughing all the way.
I let go of the voice recorder and played it cool. Standing up from my chair, I made a gesture toward the pills that sat in front of me.
“Look, I have to piss, and I’ll need some water to wash that aspirin down anyway.”
Michael let out a sigh and pointed toward the door.
“Out the door, down all the way and on your left.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Any chance you could see about getting us some coffee?”
“I’ll look into it,” he said, not moving from his chair. “Coffee, huh? The breakfast of champions and apparent heart attack survivors, I guess. You’re a real genius Cervetti.”
I had already swept up the pills and was walking out the door before he finished. I was almost at the exit before I even remembered to exhale. Rosso is here. Why in the hell is Rosso here? I recounted as much of my conversation with the detective, Michael, as I could. I hadn’t told him much. Not yet, anyway.
Does he know Rosso is apparently in the building? Does he even know who Rosso is?
I reached the revolving door exit, smiled at a clerk on my way out, and waiting for someone to stop me. Nobody did, and I figured I had my answer to both of those questions. Rosso’s apparent presence at the police station, however, gave me dozen fresh unanswered questions.
I remembered what Rosso said about “going legit” and entering the world of “legal public money.” I wondered what kind of connections he might have made since his decision to make it big in the world of business suits and ethically-questionably politics.
I made it two blocks down the street, walking faster than I probably should have, when I heard the footsteps come up from behind. Turning to glance over my shoulder, I heard the sound of a boot planting in cement and a slight intake of breath. Feeling a sharp sting, I heard only ringing as my peripheral vision began to give way. I finishing my turn while collapsing to the ground, the dentist now standing before me.
“Well,” he said, sliding some kind of metal rod into his jacket. “Rosso’s still alive, so bad job in that regard. The good news is, so is Carol. For now, anyway.”
Edward grabbed me by the jacket, pulling me up while still making sure I felt the end of a pistol sticking in my ribs.
“Come now, Lenny.” he said. “You’ve made a mess of things.”
