“I wish! But ten to one he’s with that slut Carnie Tibalt.” Her face looked as if she’d just sucked on a lemon. “I can’t believe it. Gave him the best damned years of my life, wait for that cocksucker to get out of prison, and what does he start doing but bang that cunt of a waitress from the Long Branch.”
“You don’t have any idea where he’d go?” Alvarez tried again.
“If I did, I’d shoot them both. Oh, damn, though I’d have to get me a new gun as he took the rifle with him.”
“He had a rifle?” Pescoli put in.
“Oh, yeah, just a couple of weeks, like he’d bought hisself an early Christmas present or somethin’.”
“You know where he bought it?” she pressed.
“Nah, but it had to be from some guy off the street, right? A private owner and untraceable weapon, cuz I’m pretty sure it wasn’t legal for him to have it.”
“You know what kind it was?” Pescoli tried again.
“No.” She held out her fleshy palms as if she’d been offered poison. “I don’t know much about guns and I don’t wanta know. Trouble. That’s what they are.”
Pescoli kept the questions coming. “Does Maurice have any enemies?”
Wanda looked at her as if she’d grown horns. “Only about a million.” She snorted. “He had tons of people who didn’t like him or who he didn’t like, and I remember him talkin’ about the ‘Dirty Half Dozen.’ Yeah, that’s the name he gave for people who really screwed him over.”
“Did he ever say who they were?”
“No, but you can bet that judge was on the list. He hated her. And the sheriff.” She eyed Pescoli critically. “Wasn’t all that fond of you, either, but don’t take it personal, it was a pretty big club.”
“I won’t,” Pescoli said. “So who are his friends, who does he hang out with?”
“Nobody. Shit, most of his ‘friends,’ if you’d call them that, are up at the big house. Still in prison. Oh, I guess Elders got out, not that it’s a big deal.”
“Elders?”
“Cameron Elders. From the first time he was in prison, you know, for trying to hack me the hell up. But he hasn’t talked to Cam in years. Every time Maurice was out, Cam was in, or that’s the way it seemed. Besides, he wasn’t interested in any of his old buddies.” Her eyes narrowed with renewed fire. “The only person, and I use the term loosely, he hung out with was that piece of ass Carnie Tibalt! Man, it really pisses me off to think how he screwed me over for that little cunt with her perky little fake titties! Twenty-nine, that’s how old she’s supposed to be, but I’m bettin’ she’s at least five years older.” She sniffed loudly as if she’d encountered a bad odor. “Younger’n me, though, you can bet on that. When I think of them together . . . son of a goddamned bitch, it makes my blood boil.”
And she wasn’t kidding. Her normally pallid complexion had turned beet red during the conversation.
“He must’ve had some other friends,” Pescoli said.
“No time for ’em. Too busy humpin’ Carnie. God, I hope he fucks himself to death. Both of ’em!”
“What about Vincent Samuels?” Pescoli ventured.
Her head snapped up. “Vinny? He did know someone he called Vinny. But I never caught his last name.”
Bingo.
“Did they get together recently?”
“Dunno. Maybe. He did mention the guy. Probably another prick who screws around on his wife.”
“Vincent Samuels isn’t married,” Alvarez said.
“Smart guy.” As if she’d just thought of something, she curled the fist of her left hand and shot it out so that they could see her knuckles. “See this,” she said, pointing to the ring sparkling on her fleshy finger. “My damned engagement ring. Big-ass rock, yeah? Maurice swore it was real, that he lifted if off some old broad and then had the stone reset and I bought his story, hook, line, and sinker. Turns out it’s cubic Z. I’m thinkin’ he never had the ring he swiped, or he hocked it and replaced it with this, or maybe he was so damned stupid he stole a cheap knockoff. Oh, crap, what does it matter.”
With all her effort she tugged on the ring in question, finally getting it over her knuckle and hurling it across the room to the area where a small table sat off the kitchen. “That’s what I think of that bastard. If I ever see his face again, I swear, I’ll rip off his lying lips, then gouge out his eyes! And that’s before I pull a Loretta Bobber and cut off his damned dick.”
“Lorena Bobbitt,” Alvarez said automatically.
“Yeah, that’s the one!” Wanda growled. “You know he’s got a temper, Maurice does. Threatened me with a chainsaw once . . . can you imagine? A fuckin’ chainsaw? Good thing he didn’t have a gun then or one of us would be dead now.” She let out a long, world-weary sigh. “That Bobber chick? She’s a goddamned hero in my book.” Wanda glanced down longingly at the remote for the TV but decided to let it lie and folded her arms under her large breasts. “Damned fucker.”