The Everything Box (35 page)

Bayliss looked at the mug and shook her head. She said, “I think it's a little bit sad in a way.”

Coop held up his free hand. “Okay. I'm not happy-go-lucky. But trust me, I'm goddamn delightful to be around when I'm not being thrown into vans and strange men aren't going to make my friends into cat food.”

“I understand entirely. Actually, I don't. No one's ever kidnapped any of my friends. Not that I know of. No one's ever brought it up.”

“Then probably no one's kidnapped them.”

“Probably not,” said Bayliss. She clapped her hands on her knees. “So, what are we doing? How is all this going to work?”

Coop leaned against the counter and sipped his coffee. “Here's the situation: a whole lot of people want the box, but we only have
one, so we're going to have to be smart. At least smarter than them, which, considering some of this crowd, isn't going to be that hard.”

“How many is a whole lot of people?”

Coop thought for a second. “Three principal people that I know of. Plus, of course, their backup goons. Then there's various other clowns who may or may not know about us yet. Basically, a lot of people.”

Bayliss frowned. The scenario didn't seem to go down well with her. “What are we going to do?”

Coop set down his coffee and said, “Lie to all of them and hope we get away with it.”

“That doesn't sound like much of a plan.”

“It isn't. That's why it has a chance of working. With this many people involved, you don't want to overcomplicate it. Come on, you must do this stuff all the time at the DOPS.”

Bayliss shook her head. “I mostly do surveillance. Data gathering. That sort of thing.”

“Now you get to do something else. You'll love it.”

Bayliss brightened. “You think so?”

“No,” said Coop. “It's terrifying. You're going to hate it. So am I. We're going to have to be fast on our feet, but if you listen to me, we have a better than fifty percent chance of getting out alive.”

“That much?” said Bayliss. She frowned again.“I should have worn flats.”

“You sure you don't want a drink?” said Coop.

“I'm fine.”

“You relax. I'm going to make some calls.”

“May I see the box?” said Bayliss.

Coop pointed. “It's right on the kitchen counter.”

“You didn't think to hide it?”

“It's next to the whiskey. There is no safer place in the apartment.”

Bayliss went over and picked the box up. “I wonder what's really inside?”

“On the bright side it's full of jelly beans, but probably it's full of spiders.”

“Not everything is full of spiders.”

“Enough are, so why take chances?”

Bayliss set the box down. “Okay. Let's do it.”

“I've got to make some calls to get things going,” said Coop.

“I'll be quiet as a mouse.”

Coop picked up his phone and dialed. “Mr. Lemmy?” he said.

“Speaking.”

“This is Coop. Morty's friend. You know, the bum.”

“I know who it is, shit pile,” said Mr. Lemmy. “You're the only one with this number. What do you want? You have my box?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Fast,” said Mr. Lemmy. He actually sounded less furious for a second. “See what happens when you're motivated? Okay. Bring it by my place. Here's the address—”

“I don't want your address. If you want the box you'll meet me at my address.”

“Don't fuck with me, ball sac,” said Mr. Lemmy, his voice sliding back to barely controlled rage.

“I'm not meeting you someplace you can bump us both off,” said Coop. “We're going someplace public and then everyone's going home happy. If you want the box, that's the only way it's going to happen.”

He could hear Mr. Lemmy's breath on the line. He sounded like a tiger with heartburn. Coop waited, worried. Everything depended on the players saying yes.

“Okay, smart-ass,” said Mr. Lemmy. “But remember that I've got your friend. You fuck with me and being in public isn't going to save you or your schmuck friend.”

“We're meeting tomorrow at eight. Here's how to get there. It's a little tricky, so you're going to want to write it down. People call it Jinx Town. Ever hear of it?”

“Oh, God. This isn't some fruit bar, is it?” said Mr. Lemmy.

“Don't worry. Your virtue will be safe. You have a pen? Here are the directions,” said Coop. He told Mr. Lemmy about the star on the Walk of Fame. There wasn't any real reply. Just a dry laugh on the other end of the phone before the line went dead.

“How'd it go?” said Bayliss.

“Like if the phone was any bigger he would have reached through and ripped out my heart.”

“Nelson sounds like that when he calls me sometimes.”

“He's a little ray of sunshine, your partner.”

“I look at him as my last training test. Can I work with him long enough without shooting him to get a promotion?”

Coop went and poured more coffee. “Why, Agent Bayliss, I'm shocked to hear you harbor such hostile intentions toward a fellow agent.”

“Not intentions. Just something I think about when blowing out my birthday candles,” said Bayliss. She gave him an embarrassed smile. “Who's next?”

“Did you get Salzman's number?”

Bayliss took a slip of paper from her shoulder bag and handed it to Coop. He dialed. Someone answered but didn't say anything. “Hi, Salzman. It's Coop. Remember me?”

“How did you get this number?” Salzman said. His voice was cold enough to give an iceberg pneumonia.

“From Bayliss. She's with me right now. Want to say hi?”

Bayliss shot him a panicked look. Coop waved to her that it was all right.

“What do you want?”

“I have your box,” said Coop.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Sure you do. And by the way, you owe the DOPS a new microwave.”

There was a long pause before Salzman said, “How did you find it?”

“I was heating up a Hot Pocket and out it came.”

“You're very sure of yourself, aren't you?”

“No. I'm sure of you. You want the box.”

“Which brings us back to the original question: What do you want?”

“A million dollars.”

Coop heard him chuckle. “Naturally. And I bet you'd like a pony for your birthday. I don't have a million dollars.”

“You have all kinds of shady connections. Get it. By tomorrow.”

“Where and when?”

“Eight o'clock. Jinx Town. The top dark floor.”

“I think I've changed my mind. Put Bayliss on.”

“Sorry. She went out for ice cream. I like pistachio. What kind do mooks eat?”

“Put Bayliss on or kiss your million dollars good-bye.”

Shit
.

“Hold on.” Coop held out the phone to Bayliss. “He wants to talk to you.”

She took the phone and spoke softly. “Hello? Yes. We really have it. Yes. I'm the one who gave it to him.” Bayliss didn't say anything more. She just listened and turned very pale. In a minute, she handed the phone back to Coop.

“You okay?” he said.

“Fine. Can I have a glass of water?”

“What did he say?”

“I'd rather not go into it.”

“Okay.”

Bayliss sat at the kitchen counter. “What exactly is a Tijuana necktie?”

Coop went to the kitchen to get her water. “It's something you wear when you buy a piñata,” he said.

He brought out the water and handed it to her. “I think you're lying,” said Bayliss.

“Maybe I'll get you a real drink. Just a little one,” said Coop.

“Maybe that's a good idea. How many more calls are there?”

“Just two. You don't have to be here if you don't want to be.”

“No,” said Bayliss. “If you don't mind, I'd rather not be alone for a while.”

“I can order us a pizza.”

“That would be nice.”

“It's not very good pizza.”

“Then I'll have another drink with it to kill the taste.”

“That's the spirit.”

Coop called and ordered an extra large with pepperoni and mushrooms. Then he dialed the number he'd been given by the jackass who said he had Giselle. He waited to make this call so he had a chance to get his thoughts and temper under control before making it. The phone rang and went straight to voice mail. Giselle's voice telling him to leave a message was a queasy noise in his ear. When the line clicked he said, “This is Coop. I have the box. I'll give it back to you in Jinx Town. Eight o'clock tomorrow. Top dark floor. Giselle knows how to get there. Don't be late.”

He hung up and sat down. “Now
I
need a drink,” he said.

Coop poured bourbon into his lukewarm coffee and reheated it. He and Bayliss drank in silence for a few minutes. Coop put
Singin' in the Rain
in the DVD player and turned the sound off. Bayliss watched, sipping her drink. The pizza arrived and Coop brought in plates for them.

“You feeling better?” he said.

Bayliss nodded. “I'm fine. I was just caught a little off guard. More than ever, I'm looking forward to seeing this through.”

“Me, too.”

Bayliss looked past Coop to the TV. “I wouldn't have guessed you were a fan of musicals.”

“I'm not,” he said.

“Then why . . . ?”

“Don't ask or I'll tell you and spoil your pizza.”

“I might need another drink before I go.”

“Me, too.”

Coop picked up his phone and dialed another number. Sally Gifford picked up.

“Hey, Coop. What's shaking? You ever get laid?”

“Hi, Sally. As a matter of fact I did, but what I'm really calling about is a job.”

“What a busy beaver you are these days. Tell me about it. How much are we going to get?”

“Here's the good news,” he said brightly. “There's absolutely no money in it.”

“Huh,” said Sally. “It sounds like you said no money. What aren't you telling me, Coop?”

“I need your help. Someone took Morty and Giselle, and won't give them back.”

“Wait. That chick who dumped you? Who would kidnap Morty?”

“Very bad people who'll get even worse if you don't help me.”

He heard Sally sigh. “I don't know, Coop. It sounds like maybe you're talking about a gun situation. I like you and I like Morty, but I like my body, too, and I try to avoid things that are going to put holes in it.”

“It's not just about Morty,” said Coop. “The truth is, if this doesn't work, we're all going down. You, me, Morty, Giselle, Tintin, and even that little cat of yours.”

“My cat?” said Sally.

“I'm afraid so. But now here's the good news. If we do this job, even if there's no money, we get to fuck over a lot of rich and important people.”

There was a second of silence on the line, then “Cool,” said Sally. “I'm in,” an edge creeping into her voice. “Nobody threatens Purr J. Harvey.”

“Great. Come by around five and I'll tell you the whole weird story.”

“Not at that shitty bar you like.”

“No. Come by Morty's place.”

“See you then.”

“Was that one of your criminal friends?” said Bayliss.

“Yeah. You'll like her,” said Coop. “She shot her partner once, too.”

Bayliss coughed, choking on her pizza. “She shot someone?”

“Don't worry. She didn't kill him. He got a little handsy with her, so she put a forty-four pistol to his balls and pulled the trigger.”

Bayliss swallowed. “What happened to him?”

“The gun just went click. Sally's a polite person and always keeps the first chamber empty for moments like that,” said Coop. “I'm not saying you should do anything like that to Nelson, but I'm just putting it out there as food for thought.”

Bayliss set down her pizza. “Trust me. If I ever pull my gun on Nelson, it's going to do more than click.”

“You're going to do just fine tomorrow. You've got more crook in you than you know.”

Bayliss smiled. “Thanks.”

“To be fair, I feel that about every cop.”

“I assumed.”

After Mr. Lemmy hung up, he looked at his men lounging around his office, drinking his booze and coffee. They really pissed him off right then. He shouldn't have to be dealing with this shit.
That's these monkeys' job,
he thought. But then, they didn't know what the job was. Still. All he did was feed them, give them money, and listen to them belch and brag about girls. It wasn't dignified. He wondered if he should have listened to his father and gone into the family snow globe business. He remembered how the biggest decision his father ever had to make was whether to stick to traditional plastic snow in his globes or switch to glitter. Mr. Lemmy sighed.
I'd like to stick this bunch in a big goddamn snow globe and shake some sense into them,
he thought.

“Here's the thing,” said Mr. Lemmy to his men. “This Coop creep wants to meet someplace called Jinx Town. Anybody ever heard of it?”

“I have,” said Baker. His father had been a butcher. That always amused Mr. Lemmy. A butcher named Baker. It wasn't much of a joke, but at shitty times like this you had to appreciate the little things.

Baker went on. “It's supposed to be a bad place, boss. Full of crazy people and weird things.”

“What does that even mean, ‘crazy people and weird things'? Speak fucking English.”
It's like pulling teeth with these morons
.

Baker blushed a little and looked at Mr. Lemmy's other heavies. “People into all kind of dark stuff. Magic. Voodoo. And there's supposed to be, I guess the only word for it is monsters.”

“Monsters.”