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way.
    Sam laughed. “Miss us? I hate to break it to ya, pal, but did you know there’s a warrant out for your arrest? Got two boys in a squad car downstairs, waiting for your ass. Go look, see if you don’t believe me.” Sam withdrew his foot.
    David slammed the door.
    They gave him a minute. Sam knocked on the door, said loudly, “You can either talk to us, or we’ll just kick the door down again and those boys downstairs will be happy to slap some cuffs on you. Your call.” Sam gave it a second to sink in, then said, “My patience is getting a little thin.”
    They heard the click and tinkle as the chain was unlatched. The door swung open, and David stood in the doorway, arms crossed, scowling. He was young, maybe mid-twenties, dressed in a blue satin robe and not much else. His blond dreadlocks were smashed flat on the left side of his head, giving him a lopsided appearance. “I didn’t do nothin’.”
    Sam pushed past him and stood in the middle of the apartment. It was a hell of a lot nicer than Sam’s place. Hardwood floors. Leather couches. Marble coffee table. Recessed lighting. A giant poster of Pacino’s Scarface . An artistic black and white poster of two blondes making out. Pizza boxes and greasy fast food bags spoiled the cultured effect, though.
    â€œYour mommy still paying the rent?”
    â€œFuck you. Fuck you both.”
    â€œDavid, David, David.” Ed shook his head, shut the door behind him, and leaned against it. “You really should be glad to see us. If we hadn’t heard about you, and intercepted those officers downstairs, you’d be in a real pickle right now.”
    Sam checked his watch. “We told ’em five minutes. You got two minutes left.”
    â€œSo what?” David put his hands on his hips. “I ain’t done nothin’.”
    Ed shrugged. “You pissed somebody off, that’s all I can say. Word is, they got you dealing on tape. Digital video, five-point-one stereo surround, all the bells and whistles. It’s truly astonishing where they can put a camera these days.”
    â€œLet’s cut to the chase, for your sake,” Sam said. “We’re offering to take care of any evidence. That way, the boys downstairs can’t take you in. Make us happy, and who knows, that tape might just get lost. Happens all the time.”
    â€œI got nothing. I don’t deal anymore. I’m clean.”
    â€œSure you are. You got . . . thirty seconds to convince yourself that it’s true.”
    David lasted twenty seconds before muttering, “You guys are such motherfuckers.” He turned over the giant subwoofer and pulled out three baggies of pot, at least five pounds each.
    Sam tossed two bags to Ed, who stashed them in his overcoat. “You sure that’s it?”
    David shook his head, finally said, “Fuck. Fuck!” He went to the empty aquarium and pulled out a baggie of fine white powder.
    Sam took that as well. “Now, tell me the truth. Don’t you feel better?”
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    Back in the car, Ed took the passenger seat and chuckled. “That kid.” He split open a Swisher Sweet with his pocket knife, scooped out the sweet smelling tobacco, and sprinkled some of the weed in its place as Sam pulled out onto the Drive. “He gets any dumber, we’re gonna have to call Social Services.”
    â€œWell, I suppose there’s a good reason they call it dope,” Sam said, weaving the cruiser through traffic. He rolled down the driver’s window as Ed lit the blunt. Ed passed it to him, but Sam shook his head and laughed. “You fucking hippies. I’m driving, dammit.”
    Ed took another hit.
    Sam pulled a flask out of his jacket and took a long sip. He hit the lights and the gas and sped south through the blowing snow on Lake Shore Drive.

C HAPTER 9
    2:14 AM
    December 28
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    â€œRule number one. Get yourself some decent