Fear City Read Free

jeans—necessary apparel in her brother’s unheated garage—but even so, Jack could see she was developing.
    â€œYou’re beautiful.” And she was. She lived up to her name. “And I can’t believe how good your English is. You couldn’t speak a word when we met.”
    â€œBetter and better.”
    â€œHey, Jack,” Rico said, wiping his hands as he approached with a barely noticeable limp. The lanky Dominican wore a concerned expression. “Julio send you?”
    â€œNo. Why?”
    He shrugged, looking embarrassed now. “I’m a little late this month.”
    Jack waved him off. “That’s between you and Julio. I’m not involved.”
    Not true—not even close. Jack had wanted to help Rico start a landscaping business but they shared a checkered past and he’d known Rico would never accept a loan from him. So Julio had fronted Jack’s money; he collected the payments and passed them on to Jack.
    â€œIt’s that snow, man,” Rico said.
    â€œWhat snow?”
    â€œThat’s the problem. We ain’t had no snow.”
    Jack got it. Rico’s landscaping work dried up with the coming of cold weather and he depended on plowing parking lots in the winter. But this winter had been pretty dry so far.
    â€œCan’t help you there, I’m afraid.”
    â€œJust tell Julio when you see him that it’s coming soon.”
    â€œSure. But don’t worry. He knows you’re good for it. And you know Julio by now. He’s pretty laid back about the whole thing.”
    And why not? It wasn’t his money. But Jack wasn’t worried. Rico was a hard worker with a wide streak of macho honor. Probably starve before he welshed on a debt.
    â€œYeah, but I feel bad, you know?”
    â€œI know. But anyway, that’s not why I’m here. I came to ask your permission to take your sister out for lunch and a movie for her thirteenth birthday.”
    Bonita squealed with delight. “Yes-yes-yes! Can I go?”
    Rico put on a dubious expression. “I don’t know … what movie we talking about?”
    â€œHome Alone Two.”
    He’d taken her to Wayne’s World for her twelfth. The Home Alone sequel had come out at the end of last year but was still playing in a couple of second-run theaters around the city. He figured Bonita would like it because of Macaulay Culkin and the Manhattan setting—the subtitle was Lost in New York, after all. And as for Jack, he loved the booby traps.
    â€œCan-I-can-I-can-I?”
    â€œI’ll have her home in time for dinner.”
    â€œPlease-please-please?”
    â€œOh, all right,” he said with exaggerated reluctance. “I’ll have bizchoco ready for you when you come home.”
    She hugged her brother. “Thank you!”
    Rico winked at Jack over the top of her head. “You keep her safe, yes?”
    â€œScout’s honor. I’ll pick her up here next week.”

 
    4
    â€œWho the fuck?”
    Someone was knocking on the door.
    Vincent Donato had been sitting at his desk in the office over the Preston Salvage garage working on the papers he’d show his accountant next week. He’d had a good year, better than ’91, so the question was how much to declare? The legitimate income paid the guys who worked the yard and did the pickups, but that was about it. Pretty much nothing was left over for Vinny. The under-the-counter business—the money laundering, the chassis recycling from the chop shops, the body disposal service— that was where the gravy was, and none of it was ever seen by the tax man. But sometimes he had to pad the legit books to keep them looking kosher.
    He’d been having trouble concentrating because of the bundle he’d lost on the Super Bowl. Two weeks ago now but still it rankled. How could the fucking Bills lose three Super Bowls in a row? Three! He’d thought for sure this