Stark: a Novel
“Both were high on the successful con.
The taxi driver was a gnome-faced runt with ears like a bat’s wings. A procurer of servicemen for the prostitutes of the Panama Club, he was a close-mouthed underworld fringe character, so Stark and Momo were not afraid to talk freely.
“That’s the softest money I ever saw,” Momo said, shaking his head in wonder. Stark’s eyelids fluttered and the smile of a Cheshire cat played across his thin lips. He nodded with fatuous complacency. “Yeah, real sweet bunco… but -” he shrugged and let the thought trail off.
“But what?” Momo asked. “There’s nothing wrong, is there?” the quick suspicion of the paranoid junkie in his voice.
“No, everything’s lovely. We won’t even have any heat, nine chances out of ten.”
“Won’t the sucker call the fuzz?”
“Not usually. He can’t say how the swindle went down or the Board will jerk the bar’s license… padlock the joint and put him out of business.”
“That wasn’t the owner.”
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