Chapter 8

I drove across the Walt Whitman Bridge to South Jersey and headed down Route 42 toward the shore. It was after midnight and as I made more turns farther away from Route 42 the traffic got pretty thin.

I turned off onto a country road and took it around a mile before making a left turn onto a one-lane road. The motel was a few hundred feet down, on the right.

If someone was following me, they were doing it without lights. That seemed unlikely since the road was not entirely straight. I would have heard them crashing into a tree at some point.

I parked in front of Room Four and walked around to Room Twelve. I knocked twice.

"Your stud's here."

Lily opened the door and looked me up and down. She frowned. "Not my stud for sure."

She stood aside and let me in.

"Have you made copies?" she asked.

"I've hidden one away in case of a calamity. The original is in a safe deposit box. I brought two copies for you."

"Is there anything good?"

"It is smoking hot."

"Let's have a listen," she said.

We could only hear Frank's voice when he spoke on the phone.

Early in the tape we heard Frank ask, "So you're sure there's no way the odd fellow is a cop?"

Lily snickered. "That's a great nickname. Maybe we'll call you Odd Fellow when this is all over and you come back to the unit."

"Let's turn off the lights. It should be about time for a romp in the sack."

I had a small flashlight in case we needed to see.

"Okay," said Frank. "Sure. No problem, Trigger."

"Trigger?" Lily asked.

"I have no clue. These guys love to talk in code."

Frank's was not the only voice on the tape. The office was actually used for the business dealings of the bar. There was no way to tell when any of this took place unless the speakers gave sufficient context.

Frank gave us the required context.

"It's Frank."

Since the recorder was voice activated we couldn't tell how long the person on the other end spoke.

"So, it looks like the driver followed the script? You don't have any information to the contrary?"

"Good. Do the cops have any leads?"

"What? So the FBI is in on this too?"

"The usual suspects? I guess they'll be around here at some point."

"Okay, that sounds really good."

"No, we've already been paid."

"Don't worry, Rugs. I'll send somebody out with your cut later."

"Yeah."

"No."

"Don't worry. I'll get it to you."

"Yeah. Thanks for calling and for all your other help."

Frank hung up the phone. "Damn greedy bastard," he said.

We heard the door close. Then we heard it close again.

Frank was speaking.

"Here you go Mickey. This package goes to Michael Rows and this one to Thin Albert. When you come back, I'll have one more delivery for you."

"Sure, boss," said Mickey. The door closed.

The next thing we heard was a big sigh from Frank.

"I've got to say that you've pleasantly surprised me, my boy. You've not only done everything I've asked of you, you've done it quite well."