An Unsolved Case

      – What an appetite you have, buddy! — Larry Dimick wonders, when the skinny guy reaches for the second taco. — You should check for worms!       – I have a high metabolism. — Newendyke replies with his mouth full. — I’m not getting fatter.       – Console yourself with this, of course! — Dimick answers him. And pushes his portion; the feeling of hunger is present, but for some reason he does not want to eat. Larry’s thoughts are bothering him, and he decides that it’s worth sharing them with at least someone. — Will you allow me to be frank? Not about personal stuff.       – Come on. — Freddy calmly sipped his soda — he doesn’t mind Dimick’s frankness. But it’s a little surprising why Mr. White was drawn to frankness, especially after Joe’s direct instructions not to reveal himself under any pretext.       – I don’t like something. I’m talking about the job. — Mr. White looks out the windshield, thoughtfully crumpling the napkin. — I don’t know what these guys have in mind.       – No one knows — that’s the whole point.       Freddy bares his fangs in a brazen grin, but Dimick does not share the mood, and his face remains just as thoughtfully focused.       – You seem like a good guy. If I were you, I’d think about the case again. Don’t think I’m trying to dissuade you, the jackpot is nice, but the team is suspicious. Something can go wrong, and you’re not a murderer.       – What makes you so sure?       – Come on! — Mr. Orange’s sly mask is not convincing, and Larry’s thoughtfulness is instantly replaced by gaiety. — Who do you think I am? Okay, well, let me believe you: how many times have you shot at people?       Freddy continues to smile, but already a little tensely — he does not like such insight.       – Okay, you’re right. I scared a several people, but I didn’t have to shoot.       Not quite right: he shot once, in the shoulder during the arrest — that asshole tried to escape and pulled out a gun, but the cop turned out to be faster. This story is the last thing Detective Freddy Newendyke will tell Mr. White.       «Mr. Orange», — the guy reminds himself, catching his reflection in the side mirror out of the corner of his eye. — «Forget about Freddy, he’s not here».       – What makes you think we’re going to have to shoot anyone at all? — Newendyke continues. — As you say, everything is insured, and no one will move.       – I don’t know, kid, I don’t know. — Larry lights a cigarette. — Something itches inside, call it a premonition, whatever you want. Joe talks sweetly, but… We were sitting in the warehouse, and everything seemed to be serious. A plan of action: some here, others there. Everything is point-by-point. And I look at the team, and I feel like I was in high school again. Everyone is building something out of himself, trying to fluff his tail. And Mr. Pink annoys me.       – What about him? — In Freddy’s opinion, Mr. Blond was the most suspicious, but the guy keeps his opinion to himself. — He doesn’t seem to be a fool.       – Too smartass, I’d say. — Dimick scratched the bridge of his nose. — Unreliable bastard. He’ll throw it at the slightest possibility, if there’s a chance to get his own ass away from the cops. And I don’t like Mr. Brown — he looks like a half-witted maniac with these jokes of his. I wouldn’t be surprised if he keeps his girlfriend’s ex’s penis in formalin at home.       Freddy burst out laughing so hard he choked and almost spat the taco out on the windshield. Dimick also laughed, already at the guy, and hit him a couple of times between the shoulder blades.       – Is everything okay? Great. — Mr. White replied when Freddy cleared his throat and gave him a thumbs up. — Look, I remember what Joe said, but I think it makes sense to tell him to fuck off a little bit.       – To fuck off? — Newendyke asks hoarsely, still feeling the guacamole and chili burning in his windpipe. — What the hell are you talking about?       – I’m talking about the fact that we are on our own. It’s a bad job, where everyone thinks how to get their ass out. We need solidarity, a team. It makes sense for you and me to stick together, I don’t believe the others.       – Will you cover for me? — Freddy is surprised.       – And you’re me. — Dimick slaps the guy on the shoulder. — Sometimes it happens that the cover in our business saves live and skin.       – Is that why you pulled me out? Is watching «Karina» an excuse?       – You’re smart, kid. — Larry smiles. — I didn’t choose you for nothing. Yes, I need a partner. It’s a complicated matter — it’s more reliable when you know that there is someone on the safe side.       Freddy thought about it. Long Beach Mike introduced him as a good thief, who knows how to keep his mouth shut, but people like Joe Cabot or Lawrence Dimick will immediately notice a newcomer. And they noticed. That’s why Mr. Orange’s role is secondary. The door, not to let anybody in or out; Holdaway was very unhappy when he found out — he was afraid that if something went wrong, Newendyke would have little influence on anything.       A good guy playing the role of a scoundrel is a new job for Freddy. It would not be superfluous to really hedge on both sides.       – It’s a deal. — Detective smiles crookedly.       In the evening of the same day, as usual, reporting to Jim about the case, Newendyke laughed for a long time: an undercover cop arranges a cover with a criminal he is going to arrest — what a story! But two days later, when everything really goes awry, it’s not too funn.       Shot — Freddy gets shot in the lung. It goes right through, leaving blood splatters on the wall.       Shot — Joe gets a return bullet. Larry had warned him: if you kill him, you’ll die next. He keeps his word.       Shot — Eddie shoots Larry for his father. Cabot’s bastard doesn’t waste words either, and he keeps his promise.       Shot — falling, Larry manages to respond. He’s a good shooter — Eddie’s dead, and so is Joe Cabot.       Everything takes seconds. A bloody massacre, a fucking Mexican standoff. Lying on the floor and gasping for breath, Freddy only has time to think for a moment that the cover in the person of Lawrence Dimick turned out to be much more effective than the one that his fellow police officers had to provide.