Long Way Down Read Online Free

mouth.
    “Those are interesting, Tommy.”
    “I can get you a pair, just say the word.”
    “Maybe later.” Jack lost the smile. “Sam wants to talk to you about something.”
    Tommy’s smile slipped away, too, and he nodded at two wing chairs.
    “Sure. Have a seat.”
    Tommy offered them drinks and both men said they would have a beer. Tommy pressed an intercom button and told Frankie to bring in three Coronas.
    Sam told Tommy what had happened and Tommy squeezed his lips together, frowned, and shook his head.
    “I haven’t seen her since that night,” Sam said.
    “That’s too bad,” Tommy said. “’Cause I haven't talked to her in over a week.” He glanced down at one of his hands and picked at a thumbnail. Frankie entered the room and floated to the desk with a tray in his fat little hands. He poured the beer for Jack and Sam, and left Tommy’s beer in the bottle. Tommy nodded and Frankie left the room.
    Sam took a swallow of beer and set his glass on a table next to his chair. “Why’d you send her to me?”
    “Pretty simple. I had to stay out of it. Mr. Craft speaks highly of you, and I remembered you from, you know, back in Chicago.”
    Tommy turned up the Corona bottle and drank about half of the beer. He set it down on the desk and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
    Sam eyed him for a few seconds.
    “Okay, who is she?”
    Tommy held his hands up in front of him, palms out. “Like I said, I can’t get involved in this.”
    “I’d consider it a personal favor, Tommy,” Jack said, his tone not that of a request at all. Tommy seemed nervous. He glanced at Jack, studied his face for a split second. “Okay, but this is probably going to get me in trouble.”
    “We’ll keep it confidential,” Jack said.
    Tommy glanced at the door, got up and closed it, and returned to his chair.
    “Her name is Candi Moran. That name ring any bells?”
    Sam stared at Tommy for a second and looked at Jack. Jack smiled.
    “Moran,” Sam said, “I remember Philip Moran. Disappeared with a few million dollars his client’s had invested in his lending company.”
    Tommy made his hand into a gun again, pointed it at Sam and popped his tongue.
    “He turned up in the Miami River with about a hundred bullet holes in him,” Sam said. “And I heard they never found the money.”
    Tommy nodded and glanced at Jack, whose eyes might have narrowed slightly. Tommy looked back at Sam, stuck his thumbnail between his teeth and chewed.
    “So, who’s Candi Moran? His daughter?”
    “Yep.” Tommy pulled his thumbnail from his mouth, looked at it, spat something invisible from his lips.
    “Who plugged her?” Sam asked.
    “Had to be La Salle.”
    Tommy’s voice dripped venom when he said the name, and his lip peeled back in a sneer.
    “La Salle?”
    “Yeah, Vince La Salle. Big guy with long hair, looks like a weight lifter or something. You know him?”
    “No. What does he have to do with anything?”
    “He took over Philly Moran’s company.”
    That meant he probably put the body in the river.
    “He killed Moran?”
    “Sure, but the police came around here busting my chops about it, ‘cause I used to work for Philly. I told ‘em I hadn’t seen the man since I started my own business a year or so ago. They said that's a good reason for us to be having problems, but we didn’t have any problems. When I left, he asked me to stay away from his clients, and I respected his wishes.”
    Several seconds of silence passed, Tommy with a brooding look on his face. He glanced at his watch, said, “That about it?”
    Sam looked at Jack, then back at Tommy. “Why would La Salle go after the girl?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe she threatened him for killing her old man.”
    Sam nodded at Tommy and glanced at Jack, who shrugged, as if to say he couldn’t think of anything else.
    Sam drained his Corona. “What happened to Frankie?”
    “La Salle’s men came by here a few days ago. Tried to get me to tell ‘em