Peter Spiegelman - Thick as Thieves

ALSO BY PETER SPIEGELMAN

Red Cat
Deaths Little Helpers
Black Maps

THIS IS A BORZOI BOOK
PUBLISHED BY ALFRED A. KNOPF

Copyright 2011 by Peter Spiegelman

All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Alfred A. Knopf,
a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and in Canada by
Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.

www.aaknopf.com

Knopf, Borzoi Books, and the colophon are registered trademarks of
Random House, Inc.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Spiegelman, Peter.
Thick as thieves / by Peter Spiegelman.1st ed.
p. cm.
eISBN: 978-0-307-59680-2
I. Title.
PS 3619. P 543 T 47 2011
813.6dc22 2011017855

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents
either are the product of the authors imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events,
or locales is entirely coincidental.

Front-of-jacket photograph NHPA/SuperStock
Jacket design by Evan Gaffney

v3.1

For my parents, Morton and Joyce,
and for my nephew Anthony, who we miss so much

A plague upon it when thieves cannot be true one to another!

Falstaff to Prince Hal,
Henry IV, Part I, act II, scene 2

Many thanks are due to many people for their help while I was writing this book: Reed Coleman, for his time and excellent ear; Nina Spiegelman, for her early reading; Denise Marcil and Abner Stein, for their encouragement and enthusiasm; Myron Glucksman, for any number of things; Sonny Mehta, for his support, advice, and supreme patience; and Alice Wang, forreallymore than I can say.

Inside the house now, the three of them stand still in the foyer, in the pale oblong of street light that falls through the transom, and Carr hears voices in the walls. A muted cough from the air ducts, a nervous murmur from the drapes, a creaking sigh from the paneling in the center halla muffled chorus, singing only to him. Home early. Not the maids night off. Tires in the driveway. Carrs thighs are lead, and a clamp wraps around his chest. Adrenaline, he knows, but knowing doesnt help. He reminds himself to inhale, to exhale, not too fast. Above his chanting fear he can hear Declans voice.

Nothin like a house in the dark, lad. The brogue that came and went, the rough laughter, the sharper edge of excitement, as if he were talking about a roller coaster. But Carr hates roller coasters, and always has. Inhale, exhale, not too fast.

The odors of the house come to him: lavender, cinnamon, lilac, vanilla, the chemical tang of a disinfectantlike a brothel above a bakerybut Piney Point Village is hardly that kind of Houston neighborhood. He takes another breath and catches a trace of cigars and of dogan overweight, arthritic Lab that Carr knows is boarded at the vets all week. Bobby flicks a penlight and follows its beam to a plastic box on the wall.

No mess, Carr tells him.

Yeah, yeah, I hear you, Bobby says, irritation and Brooklyn plain in his raspy whisper. He sticks the penlight in his mouth, pops the cover off the box with a thin screwdriver, and pries loose a circuit board from the bracket underneath. He pulls a coil of wire from the wall behind it and picks delicately at the board, teasing up the contacts. Bobbys moves are quick, and theres time to spare when he reaches into his pocket, pulls out something like a matchbook, and snaps it onto one edge of the board. A green LED blinks fast on the matchbook as it talks to the processor in the basement. Dont worry, be happy. The blinking is replaced by a steady glow, and Bobby lets the board hang by its wires down along the wall. He hooks the plastic cover on a corner of the bracket and takes the penlight from his mouth.

Clean enough? he asks.

Latin Mike answers. Slick, cabrn, like always. Mike is forty, older than Carr, older than any of them, but his rounded San Diego accent makes him sound like a kid.

Carr nods. Bobby goes downstairs; start by the door to the garage. Mike takes the master. Check your headsets first. Carr touches his own and swings down the mic on its wire arm. You there, Vee?

In the darkness Valeries voice is close, as if her lips are at his ear. Where else? she says. Her tone is amber, smoky, a little weary. Carr can almost feel her breath. All quiet out front. A guy walking a dog at the corner; a drunk in a beemer.

And in back? Carr asks.

Dennis answers. Not even a drunk back here. His voice is young and reedy and tentative, like Dennis himself.

Carr looks at Bobby and Latin Mike. You guys hear everything? Bobby barely nods; Mike wont muster even that. Carr looks down. Clean shoes?

Latin Mike snorts. We virgins now, jefe? he says, the jefe laden with sarcasm. We never done this before? He walks off, into the deeper darkness of the house, and Bobby follows.

Carr takes a long breath and lets it out slowly. He strains to hear them rummaging upstairs and down, but theyre silent. No, not virgins. Theres a half-moon table in the foyer, black lacquer with a vase of drooping gladiolas on top and a drawer beneath. Carr thumbs his own penlight and opens it.

* * *

Carr has progressed to the office, a mahogany annex to the living room, with many bookshelves but few books. Theres a claw-footed desk squatting in the middle, and hes going through the center drawer when Latin Mikes voice crackles in his ear. Got a box in the master, in the walk-in, behind the suits. Looks like a real piece of shit.

A surge of anger runs through Carrs gut. Leave it, he says.

Five minutes max and Im in this thing.

I said leave it.

Its low-hanging fruit, jefe.

Were not here for fruit. Now stay off the air unless you find it.

If Mike has an answer Carr doesnt hear it over Bobbys laugh. You want low fruit, bro, you should see the liquor store goin on down here. We lift a case of Dom, hed never miss it.

Carr grits his teeth. Thered been none of this bullshit with Declan. With Deke, once they were inside, it was all business. There was no idle chatter, just that gravelly brogue calling out the numbers, and the clipped, whispered acknowledgments from each of them. Carr knows that Mike and Bobby are fucking with him, trying to get a rise, but hes not going to give them the pleasure. He takes a breath and is about to speak when Valerie cuts through Bobbys chuckles. You girls want to shut the fuck up while this cruiser passes by? she whispers.

Mike and Bobby go silent and theres a chunk of ice in Carrs gut. He kills his penlight. Valeries voice is a low monotone. Half a block down two houses now goddamn it, hes slowing down. Fuckis there a backup you guys forgot about? Cause hes stopped right in front. Her voice gets softer and the sound of rustling fabric is loud in Carrs ear. He can picture her slouching low behind the wheel.

Bobby starts to talk but Carr cuts him off. Quiet! he whispers, and then to Valerie: We burned or what, Vee?

I dont know, she whispers. I dont waithes rolling away. One house down now two. Hes at the corner, taking a left.

Something releases in Carrs chest. Dennis, anything?

He just went past. Hes hanging a right on Smithdale.

Carr flicks on his light again. Bobbys voice leaps into his ear. I didnt forget a fuckin thing, Vee.