The Cabbie and the Cop – 11

“Vince Paley.”

Vergil stepped forward when the man called the name he was using, feeling like a specimen under a microscope as the man looked him over with a jaundiced eye. It was his third day here and from what the lieutenant had said this was probably make or break time.

“Do you know the city well enough to find this address?” The man handed him a slip of paper with a work order.

“I know the area,” Vergil replied, keeping his tone of voice unassertive but still certain.  

The man nodded. “It has the potential to be two or three days worth of work, assuming you handle the job properly.”

“I could use it.” He lowered his gaze, thanked the man and left.

I’m in. He hid a gleeful smile. The address matched one of the houses used by the people running the prostitution ring.

A bus ride and a short walk later he stood on the sidewalk outside the house. It was large, not a mansion but close, with a wide front lawn and a tall brick wall surrounding it. He pressed the button on the box by the pedestrian gate and when someone answered he explained who he was. A moment later there was a click and he was able to open the gate.

The walk up to the house gave him time to steady his nerves and get back fully back into character. When he arrived at the front door, it swung open. A stocky man around thirty-five years of age stood there. He introduced himself as Bernard, telling Vergil he would take him to the area which needed painting.

“Are you the owner, sir?”

Bernard shook his head. “I work for Mr. Harwood,” he replied tersely as he led the way down a long hall toward the back of the house. Coming to a door, he opened it, revealing a large room which was obviously in the process of being redecorated. “The paint and supplies are there,” he pointed to a workbench in the center of the room. “If you need coveralls there are some in that closet. Please do your best not to get any paint on the floor or the wainscoting.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll check on you from time to time, but otherwise you’re on your own.” With that said Bernard left, firmly closing the door behind him.

Knowing the type of place this was, Vergil figured there was at least one camera in the room, an idea which didn’t bother him all that much. If anything it would help to prove he was what he claimed, so he found a pair of coveralls which fit and set to work. As he painted he wondered how many other men had done this before him, and how many layers of various colors were on the walls.

Bernard did check on him, several times. The first time Vergil acknowledged his presence and got no response so after that he kept working, ignoring the man. Then, just before noon, the door opened and a different man entered the room.

“You’re progressing quite well,” the man said as he surveyed to wall Vergil was painting. “If you want to take a break…”

“I don’t think I should,” Vergil replied diffidently. “The man who hired me probably wouldn’t approve.”

The man chuckled. “I hired you. I’m Jasper Harwood and the offer stands. If you’d like to take a break I can provide lunch.”

“I… Thank you, sir.” Vergil climbed down off the ladder, set the paint tray down on the work bench after emptying the paint back into the can and then paused.

“There’s a small lavatory behind that door. You can wash the roller and brushes out in there. Just clean up when you’re finished.”

With a nod, Vergil went to do so, returning a few minutes later to find Mr. Harwood standing at the doorway. He quickly stripped off the paint-stained coveralls, leaving them neatly on the work bench and then followed Mr. Harwood into a small dining room across the hall.