Think Twice

That made Sal stop. “Who said we worked for Joey the Toe?”

“Uh...”

Was he serious?

“Here’s the thing,” Myron said. “I was going to go to see Joey next.”

“In prison?”

“Exactly. Pay my respects. Tell him I want to help.”

“This is a cute stall tactic.” Jazz smiled. “You don’t have a clue, do you?”

It was then that Myron heard a familiar song coming from a nearby car.

“The Heart of Rock and Roll” by Huey Lewis and the American Express/News.

“You talk too much,” Jazz said. “Cut the fucking toe off, Sal. He’ll be much more cooperative without that toe.”

Sal held the foot down. Myron kept bucking.

Sal said, “Jerry, help me here.”

Jerry came over. He held the foot down with both hands. Sal opened the clippers. There wasn’t much time. The song was still playing. Huey was singing that from what he’s seen, he believes them, when the music stopped cold.

Myron stopped squirming. “Sal?”

Sal looked up at him.

“Stop right now or you’re going to die.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Myron closed his eyes and waited.

The first bullet took off the back of Sal’s head.

Warm blood and brain matter splattered onto Myron’s naked foot.

Myron shouted, “You don’t have to—”

But there was no use. Win stepped into the room. While quietly singing that the old boy may be barely breathing, he took out Jerry next with yet another bullet to the head. Then the other goon went down as Win crooned the chorus about the heart of rock and roll, the heart of rock and roll, still beating.

All three shot in the head. All three deader than dead.

Jazz raised his hands. Win pointed the gun at him too while singing, “In Cleveland. Detroit.”

Jazz said, “Please don’t.”

Chapter Nine

Three hours later, at eight p.m. on the dot, Donna Kravat sauntered into Mizumi, the sushi place at the Wynn hotel, decked out in a slinky black dress and high high heels. Myron rose and she gave the freshly showered, freshly scrubbed-footed Myron a small buss on the cheek. Donna smelled great. When she sat down, Myron said, “Why did you tip them off?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Without warning, Myron snatched her purse from her.

“What the hell—?”

He started rummaging through it, found her phone, pulled it out.

“What are you doing?”

He held the phone up to her face. It unlocked.

“Myron?”

Myron scrolled down on iMessage. “You tipped them off. Right after I arrived. That’s who you were texting.”

“Myron—”

“Did you know what they would do?”

“Would it matter if I said I didn’t?”

“Not really, no.”

“I’m surprised,” she said. “You still have your toe.”

“I’m resourceful.”

“I bet you are.”

Myron put down the phone. “So why are you helping your son’s killer?”

“Because,” Donna said, “I don’t believe Joey did it.”

“Why not? All that evidence—”

“Too much evidence, don’t you think?” Donna sat down. So did he. She reached out and beckoned him to return her phone. He did. “Think about it. The fingerprints. The DNA. The weapon. The toe.”

“Uh, Joey the Toe collects toes. It’s in the name.”

“Not when he kills someone. He uses it to send a message — a way to intimidate his rivals. Seriously, what kind of idiot keeps a dead man’s toe for the police to find? What kind of idiot leaves so many clues behind?”

“Prison is littered with such idiots.”

“Joey Turant was senior level of a major crime family. He had no motive to kill my boy.”

“You can’t know that. Maybe Joey was in the closet and Jordan was going to out him. Maybe Jordan crossed him or looked at him wrong or did nothing—”

“They were on the same side.”

Myron didn’t get that. “Same side of what?”

“I’m not going into it,” she said.

“Yeah, Donna, I think you are. I almost got my toe snipped off because of you.”

“So you think, what, I owe you?”

“I don’t get it. Why would you sic those goons on me?”

“My son and Bo,” she said.

“What about them?”

“Toward the end, their relationship was strained. You know how it is. Two young hot guys trying to commit in a city that’s the opposite of commitment.”

“One cheated?”

“I don’t know. Probably. Probably both. That doesn’t matter. Let me ask you something. Put aside your preconceived notions about this case, okay? When a murder occurs, who is always always the top suspect?”

Myron saw where she was going with this. “The partner.”

“Exactly.”

“So you think Bo was involved in Jordan’s murder?”

She didn’t bother replying.

“Did the police look into Bo?”

That made her chuckle. “Are you kidding? With all that evidence pointing to Joey? They always wanted to nail The Toe — and now a murder case was being served up on a silver platter. I don’t even think they cared if Joey did it or not. But one thing was for sure — they weren’t going to muddy the waters by looking into other suspects.”

That made sense.

“Ever since Bo testified, the Turants have been scouring the planet for him. And they’ve gotten nowhere. Bo vanished without a trace, without anyone following up, without a single clue. I’d given up. And then, after all these years, you come along—”