(Read all of "The Baltimore Drive-by" so far here. And remember: This is fiction. Almost none of it really happened.)
Blake had gone to look for cigarettes. This took him out of the picture for at least an hour. He was hopeless when it came to finding smokes in America, and he'd never find any place open this time of night. And Kleinman — well, let's just say Kleinman was in no position right about now to tell McCarver or anyone else what she knew. And Kleinman knew everything.
McCarver gulped half his beer and said, "It was Blake's idea."
"Easy, Fetch. You don't even know what I'm asking."
"I mean, don't get me wrong: I like a good scam. But Blake thought it up, Blake bought the gun, Blake ripped off the bike."
"That was Scott Phillips," I said.
"But how did you— "
I put down my glass of Magner's. "Philly is my town, remember? And what would Blake do if he found out the girl got her money back after you guys ripped her off?"
Fetch got a funny look on his face, and his jaw went slack. He looked out over my shoulder like I wasn't there. He squinted. Then a fat smile creased his face. "Hey!" he said. "It's Kleinman!"
© Peter Rozovsky 2009