"I thought you liked him."

"I'm not hoping he'll die. It's just that I can't help having mixed feelings about it."

"You're in his will," Kelly said.

"Not even if I were a nun. Tony's a widower with three married daughters, grandchildren, and a son who's a prick. The guy scares me to death. Tony wanted to put me in his will and I said, 'You know your son'll take me to court after you're gone.' I didn't say, 'Or have me fucking killed if he has to.' Tony Jr. runs the old man's law firm, all criminal and personal injury."

"But he's leaving you something," Kelly said, "and that's why you don't walk out."

Chloe, smoking, nodding, said, "He won't tell me what it is, but I think it's a life insurance policy, like one that he's had for years and recently made me the beneficiary? Otherwise, if he just took it out at his age, they'd turn him down."

"You think it's a lot of money."

"Well sure. He said get a good financial adviser and I could be set for life. I'm thinking it's for around five mil, if it's like enough to retire on."

"He has the policy?"

"He doesn't want Tony Jr. to know about it. He might've been the beneficiary originally-if that's what it is, insurance. But what else could it be?"

"Where's the policy?"

"In a bank deposit box."

"You have the key?"

"The box is in Montez Taylor's name."

"The guy," Kelly said, "who looks like a pimp in a business suit? You trust him?"

"What's in the box is mine, not his. Tony dies, Montez will see that I get whatever it is. Why're you making a face? Tony trusts him. He says Montez is like a son to him, even if he is colored. Tony hasn't caught up yet with being politically correct. Montez is a cool guy, mid-thirties, nice-looking. He takes Tony everywhere, all the U of M games, ten years he's been doing it. Tony says he's leaving Montez the house, since none of his kids want to live in Detroit. It's in Indian Village off Jefferson, not far from here."