“Sorry, kid. I know it’s been real shitty for yous.” Maury waddled up to the counter, holding something in his hands. It was small, metal, and looked as if it had been smashed repeatedly with a hammer.
“What the heck is that?”
“Fuckin’ pigs tryin’ to bug my place,” Maury scoffed. “Can you fuckin’ imagine the damn nerve?”
“Is it... is it safe to talk here?” Jimmy frowned, suddenly hyper aware that people could actually be listening in on their conversations. He thought back to what Champignon had said down at the station and shivered.
“Yeah, it’s cool,” Maury said, waving his hand. “I got it all cleaned out.”
“I’m gathering Roderick is in some pretty serious trouble,” David said, his brow furrowed with concern. “They found a body by his club, and they think he did it?”
“Yes,” Jimmy said, still hesitating to speak too freely. “There’s a lot of really bad evidence against him, but he’s pretty confident that he can beat it.”
“Of course he is.” David snorted and ran a hand through his hair. “Only Roderick could be arrested for murder and not be breaking a sweat.” He frowned at Jimmy. “What about this Mr. Waugh fellow? What happened?”
“He owns—owned—the flower shop,” Jimmy explained. “You know the one we always stop at to get flowers for Mom? It’s that one. He was always so cool with Rod and me. I never had to pay for flowers, not ever.”
“But he was going to testify against Rod?”
“Yeah,” Jimmy sighed. “Him and two other people were all going to say that Rod was in a relationship with the dead guy.”
“That’s a load of shit!” Maury piped up, fumbling with a remote to turn on a small television he had up on the counter. “Marco Luchesi was a fuckin’ pervert kiddy diddlin’ piece of garbage! He deserves whatever Cold gave him!” He cleared his throat. “You know, allegedly and all that shit.”
“You knew him?”
“Kid, I’m Maury the fuckin’ Mouth,” Maury said with a sly smirk. “I knows fuckin’ everybody.”
“Wait!” The gears of Jimmy’s mind were starting to turn. “Would you be willing to testify?”
“Who? Me?” Maury blinked at Jimmy in surprise. “You wanna get my old ass up in court? I don’t thinks that’s such a hot idea, kiddo.”
“You would make one hell of a character witness,” David said affectionately.
“Thanks, but no thanks.” Maury went back to fiddling with the television, shaking his head. “Yous guys can sub-penis me or whatever, but I’m not pokin’ my head up in that mess. Besides, don’t you think if Cold wanted my help that I’d know about it?”
“Look,” Jimmy said, “we need witnesses to counter the prosecution’s witnesses. They still have two more people that are going to claim Marco and Rod had a romantic relationship and that Rod was like, I don’t know, seducing him or something.”
“Which is total shit.”
“Right, but we need someone in court to say that.”
“Lemme think,” Maury sighed, and he scratched the top of his head, his attention drawn in by the television. He grunted. “Huh.”
“What is it?” Jimmy looked toward the screen. The sound was muted, but he could see the news was on.
Maury turned the television so Jimmy could read the scrolling headline, correcting grimly, “Make that one fuckin’ witness.”
Murder Witness Dies in Prison Riot
Jimmy read the words, and he immediately felt sick. He knew it had to be Tamerlane; he was still in prison, and this was exactly why. Cold had placed him there to take out the witness. “Christ.”
“Son, are you okay?” David placed a firm hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want anyone else to die,” Jimmy said quietly, biting back tears and looking desperately to Maury. “There has to be someone else. Someone who can testify about Marco. Please!”
Maury exchanged a worried glance with David, stammering, “Lemme, lemme think, kid. I’m tryin’ here. The old brain pan runs dry, you get me? Just... fuck, hang on.”
Jimmy waited and prayed that Maury’s geriatric brain could spit out something useful. He knew Cold would do anything to stop himself from going to prison, but there had to be another way. That third witness was certainly living on borrowed time.
