"You're married," Terry said.

"No, I'm not married."

"Well, since you're telling me everything there is to know about you, were you ever?"

"I came close, but realized in time the guy was a control freak.

He'd try to tell me how to dress, how to fix my hair, how much makeup to use. He'd buy me tailored outfits, a polo coat with the little belt in back? I looked like I was from Grosse Pointe. He was a doctor, so my mom loved him. The whole time I went with Michael I think he laughed maybe twice and we saw one movie."

"What was it?"

"Rain Man." Debbie said, "You're acting frisky 'cause you're off the hook. If you'll shut up for a minute and drink your drink-" This time he didn't interrupt and she said, "I've been in touch with a friend of mine, a lawyer I've done investigations for, Ed Bernacki. I asked if he knew anything about Randy."

"Why would he?"

"Ed's big time, he knows what's happening downtown and likes to gossip, as long as it isn't about his clients. His law firm represents the two top guys in the Detroit Mafia. Or I should say the alleged Detroit Mafia. When Ed Bernacki uses the term he always qualifies it with, 'If in fact such an organization exists.' He got back to me while I was wa!ting for you, outside the Frank Murphy."

"Why didn't you mention it then?"

"I didn't want to talk about it on the street or in some bar or while I'm driving. It's something we have to discuss. Then you decide if you still want to help me."

Terry said, "Randy's in the Mafia? If such an organization in anyone's wildest imagination exists?"

"You got by in Africa," Debbie said, "on Scotch and that smartyinnocent attitude, didn't you? Like nothing really bothers you." She said, "No, Randy's not in the Mafia. But he has a silent partner, a guy who does exist and you'd better believe it, who is. Right at the top.

Randy only acts like he's in the mob. It's his new thing. He even has a gangster for a bodyguard, a guy Ed says is called Mutt, or the Mutt.

And do you know where Randy got his bodyguard? From Vincent Moraco."

Terry said, "Oh."

"Oh is right. When you were in the cigarette business didn't you see a Mrs. Moraco to get paid?"

"Yeah, but I never believed she was Vincent Moraco's wife. He's an older guy and she was pretty young."

"You knew Vincent?"

"I'd hear about him from Johnny, he had the connection."

"Well, listen to this," Debbie said. "I tried to get Bernacki to represent me on the assault thing? He would've got me off with time served, three months in the lovely Palm Beach County Stockade 'cause I couldn't raise the bond. But Ed was busy with racketeering indictments. That was three years ago and they've finally come to trial, here in federal court the Tony Twins, Anthony Amilia and the under boss Anthony Verona. They could get like twenty-five to life if convicted."

"Those guys've been around forever."

"Both in their seventies," Debbie said. "There're six defendants on trial, the Tonys and some other guys I've never heard of. But Verona has a heart condition and may not stand trial."

Terry said, "I'm beginning to see where you're going with this."

"I thought you might," Debbie said. "It turns out cigarette tax fraud is on the RICO indictment, going back five years." She took a sip of vodka, giving herself a few beats before springing the punch line. "So then I wondered if they might call you as a witness."

He said, "Testify against the mob in federal court."

Looking at her with that quiet gaze.

She wanted to kiss him. "You're a cool guy, Tell, even if you did see it coming."

He said, "Witness for the Prosecution. That wasn't a bad movie, Charles Laughton, Marlene Dietrich… But this sounds a little different.

You told Bernacki I was in the cigarette business?"

"He asked what I was doing at the Frank Murphy. I told him and that's when he told me cigarette tax fraud was on the indictment, going back to when you were involved."

"He said I could be called?"

"Well, actually," Debbie said, "I brought it up. I asked Ed if it was a possibility, and he said if you haven't been subpoenaed by now the chances are you won't be. Ed says the U.S. Attorney refuses to give him their witness list, afraid Ed's clients might get to them. If you want, he'll find out if you're on the list."

"You gave him my name?"

"No, I wanted to tell you about it first."

"See if I'd panic?"

"I know you better than that."

"But you're not sure. What do you think I'd do if I was subpoenaed? Leave town?"

"I don't know, would you?"

He kept looking at her in his quiet way, but didn't say anything and she didn't have a clue as to what he was thinking. She said, "I mentioned it so you'd know, that's all, in case you are called. But the chances are you won't be, so why don't we forget it, okay? What we have to talk about is Randy's situation. If he's in tight with gangsters-and Ed says he's starting to act like one-you might want to forget the whole thing. I wouldn't blame you if you did."

"You tell Bernacki what you're up to?"

"Only that I want to get my money back."

"What'd he say?"

"Forget about it. Write it off to experience."

"Well?"

"You know I'm not gonna back off," Debbie said, "whether you're with me or not." She watched Terry finish his drink and wipe the back of his hand across his mouth.

He said, "I decide to walk away, you'll slip and fall all by yourself?"

"I'm not sure what I'll do."

"Have dinner there and get food poisoning?"

"That's not bad."

"Throw up on the table?"

They were playing again, back in business.

"Or, once a day walk in the door and throw up," Debbie said, "till people stop coming and his business falls off. His restaurant business."

"Or," Terry said, "you try the direct approach, ask Randy to pay what he owes you."

Debbie said, "Now why didn't I think of that?"

"How much you make a year?"

"Why?"

"Come on, tell me."

"Never less than fifty thousand."

"That's not bad, but let's make it sixty-one thousand. Times three, that's a hundred and eighty-three grand you didn't make while you were locked up. Add that to the sixty-seven he ripped off, he owes you two hundred and fifty thousand. Can you slip and fall and win an award like that?"

"You figured that out in your head?"

"Stay with me. Can you win that much in court?"

"Not unless you break your back and you'll never walk again. You could even get a lot more."

"But two-fifty, does that sound about right, being realistic, something he can handle without too much trouble? We split it, you still get back almost twice what he scored off you."

"But when we take this direct approach," Debbie said, "and get thrown out on the street-"

"Okay, let's say I do slip and fall in his restaurant, injure my back.

We can begin by threatening him with a lawsuit. He says no to the two-fifty, we show him how he can write the entire amount off on his income tax."

"Wait a minute how?"

"By making the check out to the Little Orphans of Rwanda Fund, a charitable write-off."

She watched him take a sip of beer, from the bottle. "You've been working this out, haven't you?"

"It's what priests do mainly, figure out how to raise money. Buy a new organ, repair the roof of the church--"

"He still won't pay."

"Maybe--"

"I know he won't."

"Let's talk to him and see what happens."

"He'll sic the Mutt on us, that thug he's got working for him."

Terry said, "Now we're getting to what I know something about."

It scared her a little, the way he said it.

Later on Terry left in Fran's car to pick up his suit. Debbie offered to take him, but he said he wanted to try the Lexus. He'd already tooled around in Mary Pat's Cadillac and thought they'd take it downtown tomorrow night to see Randy. Terry said he liked to drive.