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“Really, Uncle Maury, did you have to hang up a minute ago? Are you okay? Your voice sounds funny…. You’re in the men’s room at the pool house? Why? What are you—Of course, you’re hiding. Look, stay there where you feel safe. Uncle Maury? Hello? You just dropped the phone? Why’d you drop the phone?”
He listened and then said to Meg, “Because he thought the mobsters were shooting at him, but it turned out to be a car backfiring.”
Meg leaned into him. “I might need to sit down, Joe.”
He took her arm to steady her and returned his attention to his great-uncle. “Is anyone else in there with you, Uncle Maury? Hell, no, I wasn’t suggesting you and another man—Yes, I do know how it would look for two guys to exit a one-holer bathroom together. Look, just sit tight and—”
Joe pulled the phone away from his ear. “Son of a—The line went dead again. When we get to his place, Meg, I swear I’m going to kick his ass. I don’t care if he is in his eighties and only five feet tall. I’m still going to kick his bowlegged, Mr.-T-gold-wearing, toupee-headed ass. Come on, let’s go see about my great-uncle, the nutcase.”
THEY WERE IN THE CAR with its front-mounted vanity plate that read “The Stogie” and on the way back to Meg’s apartment complex when she first became aware that she and Joe were being followed. Or, at least, she thought they were.
“Joe? Do you see—”
“Yes.”
Meg’s breath caught. “Oh my God, we are being followed.”
“I don’t really think so. Try not to let my crazy uncle, with all his mobster talk, get to you, okay?”
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