Christ, Frankie thinks, the guy is so scared he’s pissed himself.
“Who paid you to set Sal up?” Chris asks.
“Nobody,” Alex says.
“What, you did it for free?”
“I didn’t set him up,” Alex says. “I had nothing to do with it.”
“This can go one of two ways,” Chris says. “One is you can tell us the truth, everything you know, we drive you back, you get on with your life. Two is we hurt you worse than you can imagine, then we leave your body in the pond. Me, I’d take door number one, but it’s up to you.”
Alex tells them everything.
How Liam Murphy approached him in a gay bar. Offered him two thousand dollars to seduce Sal. How he called Liam when Sal showed up at his door. Called him again when Sal was about to leave. How he opened the blinds as a signal.
“So Liam Murphy pulled the trigger,” Chris says.
“I don’t know.”
“But he was there.”
“He was definitely there,” Alex says, “in a car across the street. In the train station parking lot.”
“You’re telling us the truth, Alex.”
“I swear.” He starts to cry. “Please don’t kill me.”
“Take it easy,” Chris says. “We didn’t even like the guy. Where is Liam supposed to give you the rest of the money?”
“At the bar,” Alex says. “But he didn’t show up.”
“Figures,” Frankie says.
“Next time get the money up front,” Chris says. “Always get the money up front.”
“I got one more question,” Frankie says. “I just gotta know. Sal—pitcher or catcher?”
“Huh?”
“Did you fuck him or did he fuck you?” Chris asks.
“He fucked me.”
“Well, that’s something anyway,” Frankie says.
“You done?” Chris asks him.
“Yeah.”
“Here’s the deal,” Chris says to Alex. “I’d like to let you go, but you set up a made guy, and there are rules about these things.”
“Please. I’ll do anything. I’ll suck both your cocks.”
“As appealing as that sounds,” Chris says, “we have a boss to answer to, so—”
“On the other hand,” Frankie says.
“What other hand?”
“If we put the guy on a bus, and he promised never to come back,” Frankie says, “we could just say we did him. Who would know?”
“Save us digging a grave,” Chris says. “What do you think, Alex? Would you be willing to do that? Get on a bus, disappear?”
“I’d . . . I’d need to change my pants.”
“Really?” Frankie says. “You’d be the only guy at the Greyhound station didn’t smell like piss. But, yeah, I guess we could swing by your place.”
Chris says, “But you have to ride in the trunk again. No offense, but I don’t want you smelling up the interior.”
“Okay.”
They lift him up and put him in the trunk.
Before shutting it, Chris says, “We might stop at the McDonald’s drive-through, so don’t make any noise.”
“You want anything?” Frankie asks. “A Quarter Pounder?”
Alex shakes his head.
They shut the trunk. Then Chris puts the car in neutral, pushes it into the water, and they watch it sink.
Twenty minutes later, another car comes by and picks them up.
“You still want to stop at McDonald’s?” Frankie asks.
“I could eat,” Chris says.
Liam is ripped when he gets home.
Totally jacked up on coke.
“I did it,” he tells Pam.
“What?” She’s tired, doesn’t feel like listening to a coke-fueled monologue.
“What everyone said I wouldn’t,” Liam says. “What everyone said I couldn’t. That’s what.”
“You want to be a little more specific, Liam?”
He sits on the couch beside her. Leans over and whispers, “I killed Sal Antonucci. Me. I did. Worthless, spineless, useless Liam.”
He tells her the whole story.
Pam listens to it, and then says, “So you bribed a gay man to seduce him, then shot him from across the street. Yeah, you’re a big man, Liam.”
He raises his fist to her.
“Do it, you limp dick,” Pam says. “I’ll beat the shit out of you.”
She gets up and goes in to take a shower.