Chapter 16: Landry's Price

"Prove it, then," I said.

Landry looked down the counter.

The old man in the Steelers cap was still on stool two, working through his second short stack and not pretending he wasn't listening.

The two bus drivers had stopped arguing.

"Can we do this somewhere else?" Landry asked.

"No."

"Darby."

"You did it in front of people. You can undo it in front of people."

Gretchen set a cup of coffee in front of him hard enough to slop it.

"On the house," she said. "Don't get used to it."

He wrapped both hands around it.

Then he took out his phone and slid it across the counter to me.

It was his banking app.

A list of deposits, one a month, every month for a year.

$1,000.

Every one came from a personal account in the name of Randall J. Fisk.

Every one had a memo line.

"D.Q."

"He paid me out of his own checking," Landry said. "Not the lot. He didn't want it on the books."

"That's not proof he paid you to date me. That's proof he paid you."

"Scroll."

I scrolled.

There were screenshots under the deposits.

Texts from Randall, saved one by one.

"Keep her home Saturday. Culinary place has an open house."

"She mentions that cooking school again, you change the subject."

"Ring by spring. I'll front it."

"Once the money's hers, it's in the lot. You'll be a partner. Don't screw this up, pretty boy."

My hands had gone cold.

I scrolled back up and read the last one again.

Ring by spring.

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