Vinny McCabe's Arc

Chapter 7 of 9

Vinny found a room across the street from the bar on the second floor of a cheap motel with blue doors and a rusted balcony that overlooked the entrance. He paid for three nights and set up near the railing with a thermos and a notebook. The workers arrived in pairs after six, most of them still wearing canvas jackets and work boots caked with dust. He wrote down faces, counted how many came alone, and noted which ones stayed longest. The two men from Barlow & Sons showed up on the second night. They sat at a table near the window, and Vinny watched them through the glass until they left an hour later. On the third night, he went in early with the lunch pail and sat at the bar two stools down from where the older of the two men usually ordered. The man arrived twenty minutes later, nodded at the bartender, and sat. Vinny waited until the man's second drink arrived, then asked if he knew anyone hiring demo work. The man glanced at the lunch pail, then at Vinny's hands. He said Barlow might need extra crew for a job next week. Vinny said he'd heard they paid cash for interior work, off the books. The man's expression changed. He set his glass down and asked who told him that. Vinny said he'd done a townhouse job a couple years back, north side, and the foreman never logged it. The man stared at him, then said he didn't know anything about that and walked out. Vinny stayed at the bar until closing, but the man didn't come back. He'd pushed too hard, mentioned the townhouse too directly, and now the crew would know someone was asking. He left the motel the next morning and drove past the demolition yard. The gate was closed, and no trucks were parked outside. They'd pulled back, which meant someone had warned them. Vinny had confirmed the crew remembered the job, but he'd also lost his chance to get a name. He sat in his car and stared at the locked gate. The network had bought silence with cash, but silence could break if the price was right. He just needed to find who was willing to sell it. He drove back to the bar that afternoon and waited in his car until the shift ended. The younger worker came out alone at four thirty and walked toward the bus stop. Vinny followed on foot, keeping half a block behind. When the man stopped to light a cigarette, Vinny closed the distance and said he wasn't trying to cause trouble, just needed to know who ordered the townhouse demolition. The man looked at him and said the older worker handled the paperwork, but there was a name in the logbook. Not the client's name—the foreman who took the cash payment. Vinny asked who that was. The man said it was someone named Rourke, and he'd left Barlow six months after the job. Vinny thanked him and walked back to his car. He had a name now. Not the person who paid for the demolition, but the man who'd taken the money and made sure it stayed quiet.