owes. Guess that new dame he said he had really were gone on him, iffen he ain’t been lying on where it came from.
Were Ben’s apartment too quiet? Like somebody waiting for him to turn he back? Or were he just jumpy, or maybe just itchy causen of the thoughts on Chess and needles, causen how fucking depressing Ben’s place were?
He jerked his head, took a step back so he were angled to keep a better eye on the broken door and the entrance to the hallway. Just in case. “Go get it, then.”
Ben did, brought it back. Terrible relaxed a little. He flipped through the bills with he thumb, making sure it weren’t bills wrapped around paper or aught like that; when it weren’t he nodded and put the fold in his pocket. “What knowledge, then?”
Ben’s reddish eyes kept jumping from Terrible’s face to the needle, from the needle to Terrible’s face. He licked his lips. “I tell you, you gimme back my spike?”
“Just said so, aye?”
“An maybe I gets me a credit? You tell Bump I’m all paid up on, an I gave you some knowledge helped, aye?”
“Getting fuckin bored here.”
Needle, face, needle, face. Terrible ain’t could figure on how Ben weren’t dizzy yet. “Aye, right. Right. Know a dude knows a dude, plays the duff up Northside. Dig?”
Terrible nodded. Somebody passing fake jewelry, maybe running cons with it. Northside were the place for that kinda shit, aye, where them had money. Nobody were cheap like rich people.
“Dude livin heself inna squat here, roundabout Forty-eighth an Grant.” Ben’s gaze skittered to the needle again; he licked his chapped lips again. “Say he gots a partner there got kicked some lashers for to be a lookout for a robbery. On the other night, dig? Thinking you got knowing what I’m meaning.”
Aye, he knew. Somebody got paid to be a lookout while somebody attacked Sue. Meant it weren’t an accident, somebody pulling it just on the moment. Meant somebody planned it, got ready.
Made it a fuck of a lot more likely whoever done it also killed Slick.
But iffen they’d killed Slick, why they ain’t needed a lookout for that? Or maybe them just figured be easy finding somebody willing to be a lookout for robbery but not so easy finding somebody willing to help with murder. Especially not murdering one of Bump’s men.
“Terrible?” Ben rubbed his hands together. He whole body were jerky, actually, like he wanted to get up and grab the needle but knew there weren’t a point to trying. Which there weren’t.
Terrible looked down at him, slow. Letting Ben see he had all day. “Any else?”
“Nay, nay, ‘sall.”
“You certain? Ain’t be too happy you call me up next time you got owes an say you forgetting to tell me aught today, dig? Better you get it all out on the now. I finding out you holding back, ain’t good for you.”
Ben twitched again. “Be all. Swearing it to you, be all. C’n I getting my spike now? Please, gave you all of it, all what knowledge I’m getting.”
“Got a name?”
“Aye.” Ben bobbed he head, too fast for a nod. Looked like some kinda spasm. “Aye, got me a name. Forgetting there, on the second. Got me a name. Gav, be what I hear. Gav be he name.”
For fuck’s sake. “Which one be Gav? The lookout or the dude knowing the lookout?”
“The lookout. Be Gav. Lives inna squat, he do, living there, you find he there. Gav, you look for he.”
Gav. Gav inna squat at Forty-eighth and Grant. Terrible thought he knew the place; year or so past a couple fuckheads decided to start cutting and selling their own Dream a few doors down, and he’d gone there to find em. They’d promised to stop and hadn’t, so nobody ever found em again after that, cepting them at the burnhouse.
He checked his watch. Just past four. No point hunting around there now; anybody working cons like that woulda just gone up Northside, probably stay there til their marks finished drinking in whatany shitty overpriced bars they avoided going home
Were Ben’s apartment too quiet? Like somebody waiting for him to turn he back? Or were he just jumpy, or maybe just itchy causen of the thoughts on Chess and needles, causen how fucking depressing Ben’s place were?
He jerked his head, took a step back so he were angled to keep a better eye on the broken door and the entrance to the hallway. Just in case. “Go get it, then.”
Ben did, brought it back. Terrible relaxed a little. He flipped through the bills with he thumb, making sure it weren’t bills wrapped around paper or aught like that; when it weren’t he nodded and put the fold in his pocket. “What knowledge, then?”
Ben’s reddish eyes kept jumping from Terrible’s face to the needle, from the needle to Terrible’s face. He licked his lips. “I tell you, you gimme back my spike?”
“Just said so, aye?”
“An maybe I gets me a credit? You tell Bump I’m all paid up on, an I gave you some knowledge helped, aye?”
“Getting fuckin bored here.”
Needle, face, needle, face. Terrible ain’t could figure on how Ben weren’t dizzy yet. “Aye, right. Right. Know a dude knows a dude, plays the duff up Northside. Dig?”
Terrible nodded. Somebody passing fake jewelry, maybe running cons with it. Northside were the place for that kinda shit, aye, where them had money. Nobody were cheap like rich people.
“Dude livin heself inna squat here, roundabout Forty-eighth an Grant.” Ben’s gaze skittered to the needle again; he licked his chapped lips again. “Say he gots a partner there got kicked some lashers for to be a lookout for a robbery. On the other night, dig? Thinking you got knowing what I’m meaning.”
Aye, he knew. Somebody got paid to be a lookout while somebody attacked Sue. Meant it weren’t an accident, somebody pulling it just on the moment. Meant somebody planned it, got ready.
Made it a fuck of a lot more likely whoever done it also killed Slick.
But iffen they’d killed Slick, why they ain’t needed a lookout for that? Or maybe them just figured be easy finding somebody willing to be a lookout for robbery but not so easy finding somebody willing to help with murder. Especially not murdering one of Bump’s men.
“Terrible?” Ben rubbed his hands together. He whole body were jerky, actually, like he wanted to get up and grab the needle but knew there weren’t a point to trying. Which there weren’t.
Terrible looked down at him, slow. Letting Ben see he had all day. “Any else?”
“Nay, nay, ‘sall.”
“You certain? Ain’t be too happy you call me up next time you got owes an say you forgetting to tell me aught today, dig? Better you get it all out on the now. I finding out you holding back, ain’t good for you.”
Ben twitched again. “Be all. Swearing it to you, be all. C’n I getting my spike now? Please, gave you all of it, all what knowledge I’m getting.”
“Got a name?”
“Aye.” Ben bobbed he head, too fast for a nod. Looked like some kinda spasm. “Aye, got me a name. Forgetting there, on the second. Got me a name. Gav, be what I hear. Gav be he name.”
For fuck’s sake. “Which one be Gav? The lookout or the dude knowing the lookout?”
“The lookout. Be Gav. Lives inna squat, he do, living there, you find he there. Gav, you look for he.”
Gav. Gav inna squat at Forty-eighth and Grant. Terrible thought he knew the place; year or so past a couple fuckheads decided to start cutting and selling their own Dream a few doors down, and he’d gone there to find em. They’d promised to stop and hadn’t, so nobody ever found em again after that, cepting them at the burnhouse.
He checked his watch. Just past four. No point hunting around there now; anybody working cons like that woulda just gone up Northside, probably stay there til their marks finished drinking in whatany shitty overpriced bars they avoided going home
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