Chapter 3: A small favor

 


 

Nicky was not happy to hear from me.

Although we had once been close, as with most of my closest friends, I had alienated him during the aftermath of my marriage, blaming everybody but myself for what went wrong.

He also had his own troubles.

A gung-ho ambulance company owner, he had flung himself into the rescue and later cleanup after the September 11 attack on the World Trade Center.

He contracted a lung ailment as his reward. His voice rasped so much over the telephone; I barely recognized it.

But he recognized mine.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“A favor.”

“You used up all your favors the last time we talked,” he said.

“One more pays all,” I said. “We’ve helped each other in the past.”

“Something you forgot the last time we talked,” he said.

“I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t right in the head then.”

“And you are now?”

“I’m getting there.”

“And the favor?”

“I need you to move a body.”

“For Christ’s sake, Dan. When you beg for a favor, it’s a whopper.”

“It’s not like that, Nick. This guy died of natural causes. I just have to get him out of where he is.”

“Which is where?”

“The Hudson City Motel.”

“That’s even worse, “Nick said. “Who is it by the way?”

  Nat Fraulo.”

“The columnist?”

“Yes, I said. “You knew him.”

“Barely. I tried mostly to stay out of his way,” Nick said. “Are you sure it was from natural causes. A lot of people had a gripe with him.”

“As best as we can make out, he died of a heart attack.”

“Then why move him?”

“Rocco’s scared of publicity.”

There was a long pause I could hear Nick’s heavy breathing and picture his broad Irish face deep in thought. He had a mane of hair that won him the nickname of Silver Streak. Yet despite his normally cheerful disposition, his face generally showed his deeper concerns, crisscrossed with worry lines made worse with age.

“All right, I’ll have someone there soon,” he said, finally. “We can fudge the place of death when we dump him at the medical center. But I’ll need some cash.”

“It’ll be here when your man arrives,” I said, then hung up.

“Well?” Rocco asked, having been in the corner of the office through the whole conversation.

“It’s arranged,” I said. “Now let’s take a look at your surveillance tapes.”

 

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