David pulled out his burner. Dialed the number. A man picked up. “This is Trevor,” he said. Who answered their phone like that? David had the notion it would be a police station, or a private detective.
“Hello?” Trevor said while David was still trying to figure out what the fuck to say.
“Don’t hang up,” David said eventually. “Do you have a pen?”
“I’m sorry, who is this?”
“A friend,” David said. “You’ve waited too long. Do you have a pen?”
“Is this about Melanie?”
“Yes,” David said. “Do you have a pen?”
“Yes, yes, I have a pen.”
“You will find Melanie’s remains in the pond directly behind Bennie Savone’s home, located inside a community called The Vineyards at Summerlin. This is in Las Vegas. You’ll need to have the pond drained. It’s very murky and deep, but you will find what you’re looking for. She was killed because Savone is operating a criminal enterprise out of Kales Mortuary and Home of Peace.” He paused. Melanie was watching him. “She figured it all out. She should be considered a hero. And Trevor, you must know she didn’t suffer.” A thought came to him. “Are you recording this?”
“Yes, everything is recorded.”
“Though I discovered this information, I don’t want the reward. It should go to you. Temple Beth Israel will pay. Make a claim.” The back door of the Palm Tiki opened and Jerry Ford walked out, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, a straw hat with a huge brim, and cargo shorts, pushing a luggage cart with four duffel bags, each big enough to conceal a small child. “She didn’t deserve what happened to her. I’m very sorry.”
David ended the call. Got out of the hearse, unlocked the back doors. Jerry pushed the cart to the back of the SUV, looked inside. “You’re lucky we live in Las Vegas. It’s almost impossible to get ransom money in Boise.” He wrinkled his nose. “What’s the smell?”
“You don’t want to know,” David said. He unzipped the first bag, looked inside. Stacks of hundreds. Good. Tossed it in.
“Ruben must be slipping. He keeps this baby pristine,” Jerry said. Then Jerry saw the dried blood on the bumper. Getting Ruben from the ground into a casket was a journey. “Where is Ruben?”
“Moved to a farm in the country,” David said. He unzipped the second bag. More stacks of hundreds. Tossed it in back.
“You’re not gonna count them?”
“I trust you,” David said.
“That’s fucking weird,” Jerry said. He unzipped the third bag himself, reached his hand in deep, came out with a stack. “You should at least cut a random one open, make sure it’s not a hundred on top and then filled with singles.” Which is what he did. All hundreds.
“Good,” David said. “Keep two bags for yourself.”
“What?”
“Get out of town, Jerry,” David said. He closed the back doors, locked them, headed to the front seat. “FBI is onto everything. It’s all over.”
“I need to get my wife.”
“Then do that,” David said. He got back into the hearse but didn’t close the door. “Autopsy will take a good five days. You’re not a priority. Probably longer, since Stephanie won’t be calling to hassle anyone. So right now, you’ve never been freer. You can get far away using your own ID. But if you can’t get to Stephanie by tonight, you’ll have to leave her behind.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Yes you can,” David said. “The feds will have someone on Stephanie tonight. I promise you. And if the feds don’t, the Russians will. I’d have her get into a car and meet you in the desert. If she doesn’t make it at an appointed time, you’ll know she’s either been picked up or killed.”
“Or what? Get on a slow boat to China?”
“I’d go to Ukraine,” David said. “No extradition. Most everyone speaks English. Get settled. Then in a couple months, send for Stephanie. Have her fly to Romania, enter Ukraine from there. A million dollars will go a long way in Eastern Europe.”
Jerry looked pained. “You should have told me who you were,” Jerry said.
“When?”
“The first day we met,” Jerry said. “Would have solved a significant number of problems for both of us.” Jerry checked down the block, made sure no one was around. “You’re on the local news. They said your name.”
David figured as much.
“You realize you’re about to be a very wanted man, too.”
“I sense that,” Jerry said. “FBI called Stephanie in Pismo yesterday.”
“What did they say?”
“It was Kristy Levine, from the Temple? She said I was dead and Stephanie was in danger, so Stephanie hung up on her.”
“Kristy Levine?” David said. “You sure?”
“She and Stephanie are friends. Well, Temple friends. Play canasta together or something. I don’t know.”
“She ever met you?”
“I try not to meet FBI agents, buddy.”
“You should take my advice,” David said. “It’s a good plan, Jerry.”
