Win spread his hands. “How could anyone?”

Frank laughed too hard again. “Nice having you visit.”

“Oh yes, good times.”

Frank laughed some more.

He just wanted to talk, Win thought again. It was pathetic, really. This former mountain of a man was that broken, desperate, and thus Win could use it. “You said before that Herman looked classy. That he appeared to be more legitimate than you.”

“Right, so?”

“Could you elaborate?”

“You were there, you know how it was with me and Herman. Herman wanted to be legit. He wanted to go to fancy parties and play old golf clubs like yours and he got the midtown office in the nice high-rise. He put dirty money into real businesses, like that suddenly made the money clean or something. So toward the end, Herman only wanted to handle gambling and loan sharking. Guess why?”

Win said, “Because there was less violence?”

“No, if anything, they’re more violent, what with collecting and stuff.” Frank Ache leaned forward, and Win could smell the decay on his breath. “Gambling and loan sharking felt legit to him. Casinos do gambling and they’re legit. Banks do loans and they’re legit. So why can’t Herman do the same?”

“And you?”

“I handled the other stuff. Whores, drugs, like that, though let me tell you, if Zoloft ain’t a drug that don’t work better than blow, I’ll suck off a hyena. And don’t get me started on whores being illegal. Oldest profession. And when you think about it, what man doesn’t pay for sex in the end?”

Win did not argue.

“So why you here?” Frank smiled and the sight was still eerie. Win wondered how many people had died, their last sight being that smile. “Or maybe I should ask, whose ass has Myron stuck his finger up now?”

Time to show his hand. “Evan Crisp’s.”

That widened Frank’s eyes. “Whoa.”

“Yes.”

“Myron met up with Crisp?”

“That he did.”

“Crisp is nearly as deadly as you,” Frank said.

“I’m flattered.”

“Man, you going up against Crisp. Should be fun watching that.”

“I’ll send you the DVD.”

Something dark ran across Frank’s face. “Evan Crisp,” he said slowly, “is one of the main reasons I’m here.”

“How’s that?”

“See, one of us—me or Herman—had to go down. You know how RICO is. They needed a scapegoat.”

Scapegoat, Win thought. The man has no idea how many people he personally murdered, including one for seeing him cry. But he’s a scapegoat.

“So it was either me or Herman. Crisp worked for Herman. Suddenly Herman’s witnesses vanish or recant. Mine didn’t. The end.”

“So you went down for the crimes?”

Frank leaned forward again. “I got thrown under the bus.”

“Meanwhile, Herman lives on, happy and legit,” Win said.

“Yep,” Frank said.

Their eyes met for a moment. Frank gave Win the smallest nod.