“For you, darlin’,” the waiter said, addressing Sal’s chest, “anything’s possible.”
The waiter went away, and I pulled out my iPhone.
“I got ten guys in different photos on here,” I told Maury. “Tell me if anybody looks familiar. These people are all connected to the church back there. I also got eleven names, but I don’t know how the names go with the photos.”
I showed Maury the list of names on my iPhone. Sal watched the name parade over Maury’s shoulder.
“So one guy on your names list, you don’t got a picture to go with him?” Maury said.
“No photo for one out of the eleven, yeah,” I said.
“Let’s stick with just the photos,” Maury said. “Show them to me.”
“You’re on.”
I started from the beginning with the picture of Squeaky Fallis and the investment consultant I knew as Willie Sizemore. I wasn’t counting the guy blocked out by my jacket.
“That’s your friend Fox’s old client on there, Squeaky,” Maury said. “Don’t remember his last name.”
“Fallis,” I said. “His buddy’s named Sizemore. You know him?”
“No idea who he is,” Maury said. “Listen, Crang, why don’t you run through the whole collection you got, and I’ll tell you at the end who I know? Be faster.”
The waiter distributed the drinks. Sal’s wine was green.
“That’s cute,” Sal said.
The waiter thanked Sal’s chest, and left.
I flipped slowly through the rest of my photos. Maury was silent.
“You don’t know any of these guys?” I said to him.
“Go back four pictures,” Maury said.
When I flipped back, the photo on the screen included the John Candy look-alike in the white suit.
“That’s Jackie Gabriel’s kid,” Maury said.
The guy didn’t look like anybody’s “kid.” He was middle thirties at least.
“Who’s Jackie Gabriel?” I said.
“Five, six years ago, you wouldn’t have had to ask,” Maury said. “He was the king of poker games in the city. A little blackjack too. Jackie ruled the card games.”
“An ace card player is what you’re telling me?” I said.
“You’re not getting the concept,” Maury said, impatient again. “Jackie was the guy that set up the games. He’d work out of somebody’s basement, a vacant apartment over a store, a bunch of places like that. Guys came and played. Hundred or more players scattered around these different places every weekend, not so many during the week. Very systematic operation. Jackie took a piece of the action, and with him, the house never lost.”
“Isn’t that why people go to casinos?” I said. “To lose their money at gambling games?”
“Casinos grabbed a chunk out of Jackie’s business,” Maury said. “But he still has a nitch. The serious card players prefer Jackie’s games.”
“Niche,” I said.
“Like I said,” Maury said.
“So Jackie’s son is George Gabriel, correct?”
“Georgie,” Maury said. “You know him already?”
“I saw his name on some documents belonging to Heaven’s Philosophers.”
“That’s Jackie’s beef right there, this Heaven’s Philosophers,” Maury said. “He wants Georgie to get back in the family business. He thinks the religious thing, whatever Georgie and the other guys are runnin’ in there, it’s too big and risky. Jackie says outfits like that attract the cops sooner or later.”
“Jackie knows what Heaven’s Philosophers are all about?”
“He hates their guts, if that’s what you mean.”
“You think Jackie would talk to me?”
“He approves of anybody who might throw a wrench in the church bunch,” Maury said. “I’m assuming that’s what you got in mind.”
I turned to Sal. “You have a view on any of this, Sal?”
Sal said, “You mean, as a contributor to this evening’s break-in, my opinion now counts for something?”
“What do you do with yourself when you’re not facilitating illegal entries?”
“I work on my Ph.D.,” she said.
“Really?” I said, not quite sure whether she was joking. “What school?”
“English Department, University of Toronto,” Sal said. “I’m writing my thesis on the novels of an American writer named Richard Russo.”
“Nobody’s Fool,” I said. “I loved it.”
“That’s the same as Maury,” Sal said, a big smile on her face. “All you guys did was see the movie because Paul Newman was in it.”
“Yeah, but I read the novel, too,” I said. “And a couple of his other books. Straight Man, The Old Cape Magic.”
“You read those?” Sal said.
“Empire Falls.”
“Crang, wow, I salute you.”
“You want any tips for your thesis,” I said, “keep me in mind.”
Sal turned to Maury. “Give this man whatever he wants.”
“I’ll phone Jackie soon as I get back to my place,” Maury said to me. “Ask him about having a meet with you.”
We finished the drinks and walked back to our cars. Maury was parked on the same street as I was. He opened his passenger door and ushered Sal into her seat. After he closed the door, Maury gripped my arm and steered me a few steps up the street.
“No,” he said with great emphasis, “I don’t need fuckin’ Viagra.”
Maury got in his car and drove away.
Chapter Ten
When I arrived home a little after ten, Annie was in her office on the first floor writing in longhand on a yellow legal pad.
“Wouldn’t it go faster if you went straight to your computer?” I said. “Type whatever it is you’re writing there?”
Annie held her left hand in the air while she continued to write with her right, meaning I should wait till she finished. I waited.
In a couple of minutes, Annie stopped writing.
“Have you heard,” she said, “that writing something by hand facilitates the memorizing process?”
“I learned that for myself at exam time in high school,” I said.
“Exactly,” Annie said. “Write out stuff about the hard subjects and memorize it long enough to pass the exams.”
“Physics and chemistry for me.”
“What I’m doing here,” Annie said, nodding at the pad, “I’m memorizing the speech I’ll give at the book launch.”
“Reading the speech to the audience might be easier.”
“Yeah,” Annie said, “but then they’d see my shaking hands, and that’s probably all they’d remember — the nervous woman from Toronto with the