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“Yeah, a lot longer than I wanted. Didn’t you give anybody my note?”
“You didn’t leave a note.”
“Of course I left a note,” Vinnie said. “It was on the table. I couldn’t find any paper, so I wrote it on a napkin.”
“Dude, that was your note? I thought the napkin came like that. You know how you get napkins in bars with funny things written on them?”
“You didn’t read it?”
“No, dude, I put my pastries on that napkin. That’s what napkins are for . . . drinks and pastries.”
“At least I’m back in the office,” Vinnie said. “A man’s office is his castle, right?” He sat in the folding chair and opened his top drawer. “Where’s my gun?”
“Sold it,” Connie said.
Vinnie closed the drawer and put his hands on his desk. “Where’s my phone?”
“Sold that, too,” Connie said.
“How am I supposed to work without a phone?”
“You don’t work anyway,” Lula said. “And now you can’t call your bookie, who, by the way, probably isn’t talking to you on account of you got no credit.”
“Yeah, but you paid everything off, right? How much did it come to?”
“A million three,” Connie said.
Vinnie froze, mouth open. “You paid a million three? Where the hell did you get that kind of money?”
“We sold your phone,” I said.
“Yeah, and your bike,” Lula said.
“That’s not nearly adding up to a million three. Where’d you get the rest of the money?”
“I’d rather not say,” I told him.
“Stephanie’s right,” Connie said. “You don’t want to know.”
“I came in to unplug,” Mooner said. “The Alliance wants me to go to the airport to pick up some Hobbits flying in for the big event.”
“Okay, so I don’t have a phone,” Vinnie said. “It’s still good to be here. I tell you, I thought I was going to die. They were serious. I don’t know what the deal is with Bobby Sunflower, but he was gonzo. And then when the house got bombed, everyone was twice as nuts. I was happy when you rescued me from the rattrap apartment, but I figured my time was short. I never thought you’d get me off. I knew Sunflower would track me down and blow my brains out. I figured he’d find me in Antarctica if he had to.”
“He needed money,” I said.
Vinnie opened his middle drawer and rifled through it. “The petty cash is missing.”
“And?” Connie said.
“Well spent,” Vinnie said. “It’s not like I’m not grateful.”
“Why did Sunflower need money?” I asked Vinnie.
“Bad investments, I guess.”
“Like what?”
Vinnie shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t even care. I just want to relax and enjoy not having a contract on me. I want to sit here in my office and watch television for a half hour.” Vinnie looked around. “Where’s my television? Oh crap, don’t tell me you sold my television.”
