“I was going to have her come down and join me in a couple days. Soon as I find us a nice spot. I was going to give her a call.”

Trimble nodded, like it all made sense. “That’s what I always do when I go to a foreign country, Eddie. Try to find my accommodation once I get there.”

I said, “Eddie, here’s the deal. Bullock has my daughter. If we don’t come back with the drugs, or the money you got for the drugs, then I’m guessing he’s going to kill her. And if that happens, all the bad cops in the world couldn’t do as much to you as I will.”

“I don’t know anything about any money,” Eddie Mayhew said quietly.

Trimble got up, grabbed the over-the-shoulder bag that was sitting on a chair, and dumped it onto the bed. Socks, underwear, a belt, some sundries, tumbled out. And a thick white envelope.

Trimble opened it, thumbed a thick stack of cash. “That looks like three thousand or so right there.” He slipped it into his jacket, walked over to the closet, and took out Eddie’s coat. Seconds later, he had another thick envelope in his hand. “That looks like another three or four. Where else you got it hidden?”

Eddie hung his head, unwrapped his hands from around his foot. The toes were red and bloody. He began to cry.

“Eddie,” Trimble said.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered. “I’m really sorry. So so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am. Tell Mr. Bullock I’m sorry about this, I’ll make it all up to him.”

“Eddie, who’d you sell to?”

Eddie just looked at him, his eyes moistening.

“Eddie?”

“The Jamaicans.”

“It’s a wonder you’re still alive. What did you get?”

“One-fifty.”

“What?”

“One-fifty. A hundred and fifty thousand.”

“Tell me you’re kidding,” Trimble said, slapping Eddie across the face. “Tell me you’re fucking kidding.”

“A hundred and fifty could last me a long time. Long time. I watch my pennies.”

“You should have got half a mill, easy, maybe more. Mr. Bullock was going to make a couple million out of that.”

Eddie, his cheek red, looked up as a tear ran down his cheek. “I didn’t want to get greedy,” he said.

“So you got the stuff out of the car before it went to auction, cut a deal behind Bullock’s back, figured you’d pocket the cash yourself. So we’ve got about six, seven thousand in the room here. Where’s the rest of it?”

“I mailed it.”

Now Trimble’s face was red, without being slapped. He went very quiet. “Eddie, you what?”