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“Have you heard?” asked Felix. “Somebody’s been selling counterfeit tickets. This lady cop came to talk to me about it. To me? I never sold a phony ticket in my life. I explain it’s bad for business. Sure, I might make a quick buck, but then I’d never sell another ticket. See, my business is based on trust.”
“I told you. She doesn’t think it was you,” said X-Ray.
Moses whacked him on the side of his head. “And I told you to shut up,” he said in his unusually high voice.
“Have you read the newspapers lately?” asked Felix. “The mayor’s all charged up. Got to stop all the counterfeit ticket sales! What do you think that does to my business?”
“People trust you, Felix,” said X-Ray. “You’re known all around town. Every hotel concierge and—”
“Shut up!” said Moses.
Felix continued. “Now they’re even talking about passing a law to make ticket scalping illegal.”
“They can’t do that,” X-Ray said. “It’s unconstitutional.”
Moses whacked him again. “Man, what does it take?” He turned back to Armpit. “How do you put up with him?”
“You know what the cop asks me?” Felix asked. “You want to know her number-one question? ‘Where’s Armpit?’ That’s her question. ‘Where does he live? What’s his phone number?’ And all I’m thinking is: Who the hell is Armpit? But then it comes to me. I remember those two dudes I met at the Lonestar. I kinda liked those guys. They seemed cool. So I tell her I never heard of nobody named Armpit.”
“We appreciate that,” said X-Ray.
“Shut up!”
“But you know what happens when there’s a loss of trust? People are afraid to buy tickets. Demand goes down. Prices drop. Way I figure it, Armpit, your two little phony tickets have cost me about two thousand dollars so far.”
“Armpit didn’t know anything about it!” said X-Ray.
Moses was about to hit X-Ray again, but Armpit took a step toward him. “Don’t touch him.”
“Oh, yeah?” said Moses, challenging him. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Settle down,” said Felix. “Here’s the thing, Armpit. I could tell Detective Cutie-pie everything I know, but how does that help me?”
“It doesn’t,” said X-Ray.
“It doesn’t,” Felix agreed. “The damage is alre
ady done. But maybe there’s a way we could help each other. You help me make my money back, and even make some money for yourself while you’re at it.”
“What do you have in mind?” Armpit asked, his eyes on Moses.
“Kaira DeLeon’s letter. I’ll pay you a hundred and fifty dollars for it.”
“It’s not for sale,” Armpit said firmly as he shot a glance at X-Ray.
Felix smiled. He turned to Moses. “What do you know? Our friend X-Ray wasn’t lying.”
“Hey, I’ve never lied to you,” X-Ray said. “You just got to understand where I’m coming from.”
A pickup truck pulled up behind Felix’s car.
“Look, here’s the deal, Armpit. You sell me the letter or else I talk to Detective Cutie-pie. Your choice. Everybody wins, or everybody loses.”
Jack Dunlevy got out of the truck. He no longer wore his jacket and tie.
“You got twenty-four hours,” Felix said, then handed Armpit a business card with his phone number on it. “By the way, is your real name Habib?”
Armpit didn’t answer.
