Trust (27 page)

“Damned right you don’t,” she said. “I’m on my own from now on, and I know it. But a girl on her own needs money, and when what she’s got is all gone, she needs a way to get more. So I’ve got some now, that’ll hold me awhile, and I’ve still got a way to get more.”

“I gave you that coat,” he said. “That’s a nice coat.”

“It is,” she said, “and I love it. But it was a gift, and what we’re doing now, love, is business.”

“That was my impression,” he said. “Did I miss something?”

“Oh,” she said, “it’s probably my fault. I didn’t
mention overhead. All those long-distance calls I had to make to New York, and to Vermont, New Hampshire. The reason this’s taken so long is that the guy Earl got the car from can’t afford to pay the bill, and the company, his company, said that it won’t pay it for him. So he hasn’t got the money, but the only way he beats the bill is by going to New Hampshire and telling everybody how Earl got the car from him.”

“He doesn’t want to do that?” Simmons said. “That doesn’t look good either?”

“Hey,” she said, “I can understand it. Respectable gentleman, nice and refined, pretty wife and three lovely children. Responsible job, well liked in his field—does he really want to get up there in court and admit he gave Earl the car because Earl let him suck on his cock? He doesn’t. I understand that. But the guy’s not decisive. He’s a fatalist. Maybe God kills him tomorrow, and all of his problems go with him. So finally I lose my patience with him. I say: ‘Look, you are being an asshole. It’s four hundred bucks, give or take thirty-five, for your reputation and life. Now if you had the brains of a squash, you would pay it and keep your mouth shut. Maybe should’ve done that sooner and stayed out of this whole mess, but then, nobody’s perfect. Now, be sensible, all right?’ And still he won’t make up his mind. And still Earl’s brother won’t call him.

“I get pissed off. I got one jerk in Vermont that can’t make up his mind, and another one down in New York that won’t make up his. But I can’t do anything to move the Vermont jerk, and I think I can do something, get the New York guy going. So I call up the cocksucker and say: ‘Okay, I’m tired of this. You wore
me down. I want him out. You go to Western Union down there, four thirty this after, and you give your name and you will get four hundred fifty dollars. The extra’s for a beer, and a sandwich, you missed lunch. Pay for the fuckin’ car. For this, blow-boy, you owe me something. You call up that DA in the morning and you tell him you’re not coming. You don’t do that, I call your wife, and I tell her what’s going on.’

“He got the message, finally, the dumb little shit. He called the DA and he bagged it. I was at the jail. ‘Okay,’ I say to our friend Earl, ‘now what’s it going to be? I got the fairy, take a hike, so when your case comes up, six weeks or so, he won’t show up, and you’ll be free to leave. Unless you don’t give me the pictures. In which case I sign a charge that you stole some stuff from me. And I will tell them what it us, and just where they can find it. And while they’re getting you your clothes, they’ll look and they will find it. And then they’ll come and take your clothes back, and you’ll go right back in the cell. What was the play you liked so much? The good old give-and-go? That’s the play I’m calling now. You give and you go.’

“And he did. But it cost me, to do that, plus the five hundred bucks I give him so he can get out of town. And I want that money back. It’s not coming out of me.”

“You gave him money to get out of town?” Simmons said. “Have you gone soft or something? I’m surprised at you, give a guy a present that’s just fucked up your life.”

“I was buying something?” she said. “The way I looked at it, I was buying
me
a present Out of town is where I want him. Far away from me. Earl’s gone
rancid, like my turkey. Earl isn’t fun anymore. You’re a tough son of a bitch to do business with, Allen, but you always treated me square, and you never hurt me. Earl’s fucking great idea ends up screwing me out of my best client, best I ever had. And I don’t think my chances are so good of finding someone else I can make the same arrangement with. So now I’ve got to scramble, and I don’t want him monkeying around, making things harder’n they are. I got to have my head clear now. Him I do not need.”

“Where’s he go?” Simmons said. “You know?”

She shrugged. “ ‘South’ was what he said. Said he was heading south, he’s always hated cold. Could be, I suppose. Cold weather bothered him. But he’s got something up his sleeve down there, if that’s really where he’s going. Earl’s a binge drinker. He can get by for two, three weeks, on a hundred bucks or so, it doesn’t look like he needs all that much money. And he doesn’t think he does. But then he goes off a bat, or decides he can beat the point spread, and it all disappears. So then he needs some more. He thinks in thousand-dollar terms. That’s why I never told him what our actual deal was. And I’m damned glad you didn’t, either, until the deal was over. If he’d’ve known I had it coming in, regular basis, he’d’ve spent it all, and more, the exact same way—on a regular basis. He thinks if he can just get himself a grand, he will be all right for the rest his life on earth. Doesn’t think that far ahead. So, I can’t imagine what he thinks he can steal down south, or where down south he thinks it is, or who down there has got it. But something like that’s on his mind. That’s the way it works.”

Simmons looked at his watch. “Speaking of the
time,” he said, “I really ought to go.” He finished his drink. “So, can we wrap this whole thing up now? Or do we part at impasse?”

“Up to you,” she said. “You can pay me now, or you can hope my luck is good and I never need to come back for those other ten large ones. But every day you’ll wake up knowing this could be the one you get a call from me, see if you’re in the picture market.”

“I’ll give you half of it for the rest of the negatives,” he said.

“I’ll give you half of the negatives for half of the money,” she said. “I’m not bending on this, Allen. I’m a tough son of a bitch to do business with, too, and you oughta know that by now. You and Earl set the price, or he asked and then you did. None of this was my idea, not from the beginning. By the time I find out what he’s doing, he’d already done it enough times to stick it to you. He just wanted more. And then when he ducked out on me, and put the boots to you, well, that wasn’t my idea either. I’d been stalling him for months, just hoping that something’d happen so he’d drop the whole idea. Well, the shit got in the fan. I’m trying, tidy up here, cut my losses and get myself a little breathing room. You gave me some. I want the rest. Pay now or save for later.”

“I’ll give you the ten for the rest of the negatives and next weekend in New York,” he said.

“On the house?” she said.

“Sort of our last fling,” he said. “Just for old times’ sake.”

She shook her head. “I already sang that song. Sang it New Year’s Eve. Except where we’re concerned,
well, that’s one old acquaintance that I’d just as soon forget. Well, I’d better, anyways.”

“Seventy-five hundred,” he said.

“Ten grand,” she said, “and a quickie before dinner. I’m not saying I don’t like you, you know, but I’m still a working girl and I don’t work for you these days.”

He sighed and produced a second envelope from his pocket. He put it on the table. She reached into the shoulder bag and took out a white envelope. She put it on the table and picked up the one he’d placed there, putting it in her bag.

“Huh,” he said, leafing through the negatives that she had given him. “You’re not counting it?”

“Don’t need to, Allen,” she said. “I’ve always trusted you.”

On the way out she saw the waiter with his small tray on the counter of the service bar, studying her under a frown. She went over to him, and patted him on the left forearm. “Nice to see you again, too,” she said. “Eric, I think—wasn’t it?” He nodded. “We’ve both moved up in the world,” she said. “I hope you’re not still tipping off house cops, now that you’re high class and all.” The waiter looked alarmed. “Now, now,” she said, “it’s all right, Eric. The house cops tipped us off, too.”

Midway through the morning of the last Friday in January, a northeast wind came down Rhode Island Sound at twenty knots and blew along the rocky beach into Lafayette, Rhode Island. The parking lot of the shopping center was nearly deserted. There were no customers at Chuckie’s Discount Liquors. The woman in the black wig with the ringlets leaned her buttocks against the shelf at her checkout station and smoked a Salem, taking deep drags. Between them she held the cigarette aloft in her left hand, her left elbow cupped in her right hand, and stared out the window. She saw a khaki Ford sedan come into the lot from the north and park in the first row opposite the store. There was white lettering that she could not make out on the front doors, and there was more on the lower part of the rear deck. It had no license plate. The driver and his passenger both wore military dress hats. They talked for a few moments and then the passenger got out. He wore a long, dark green overcoat and his green trousers had a black stripe. The skirt of his overcoat flapped in the wind. He was careful to step around the
small puddles of melted snow that remained on the macadam as he made his way to Chuckie’s. He showed no interest in the stocked aisles when he entered but came directly to her register. He was in his midtwenties, and had blond hair.

“Whaddaya looking for, Lieutenant?” she said.

He grinned at her. “I was going to buy a pack of cigarettes before I asked you,” he said.

“No need to be polite,” she said. “You should save your money, get them at the PX, right? For what, five cents a pack? No one this business expects military guys to buy what we got for sale in here. Hell, last time my kid was home, I ordered all my booze and smokes from him. Bought in all down at Groton for a tenth of what I’d have to pay here, even with my discount.”

“He’s in the navy?” the lieutenant said. “Down at the sub base?”

“Nah,” she said. “The army. Down Fort Gordon, Georgia.”

“Well,” he said, “at least that’s something. Least you know he’s safe.”

“Well,” she said, “I wouldn’t say that, exactly. I mean, he jumps out of airplanes, right? He says it’s helicopters, which I say: “So what? If it flies then it’s a plane.’ And he jumps out of it. I heard that can be dangerous, matter where you do it. But yeah, I do know what you mean—–he’s not in Vietnam. So whatcha looking for?”

“The Beachmont Motel?” he said.

“Jeez,” she said, “what goes on here? MPs change their uniforms?”

“I’m not an MP,” he said. “What made you think that?”

“I know that joint,” she said, “the type of guys that go there. Only reason I can think of why the army’d want to go there is because somebody tipped you there’s an AWOL staying there. Which’d fit right in—place’s perfect for deserters; they’d give it some class.”

“No,” he said. “Nothing that exciting. Or that pleasant for that matter. Just trying, trace somebody that’s supposed to work at it.”

She nodded. “Oh, now I get it,” she said. “You’re with Intelligence. Well, lemme tell you something, Lieutenant: You already found out everything you need to know without ever going there. Nobody ever stayed the Beachmont should get any kind of clearance. They don’t draw the kind of people we should tell our secrets to. But if you got to, then you got to. Carry out those orders. You just keep right on heading south, it’s right there down the road. Kind of a waste of a good spot—a cheap flophouse like that across the street from a really gorgeous view. It’s two stories, faded green, run-down at the heels. Which sort of describes the owner, too, except for the green part.”

“He’s there most of the time, is he?” the lieutenant said.

“Put it this way, kid,” she said. “When he isn’t somewhere else, that is where he is. Where somewhere else is, that depends on what scam he’s got working, and those change from week to week. But he’s usually there, making life hard for people. Drives a big gray Lincoln and acts like he can afford it. Watch him when you talk to him—don’t believe too much you hear. He’s a shifty bastard and you can’t trust him at all.”

The lieutenant nodded and winked. “Gotcha,” he
said, tipping his hat, “you’ve been very helpful and your country thanks you, ma’am.”

She grinned at him. “Pleasure talking to you,” she said. “You’re probably the nicest guy I’m gonna see all day.”

The sign on the orange trailer remained in the Beachmont parking lot but a line advertising “
LOW OFF-SEASON RATES
” had been added to the legend above “
34 AIR-COND RMS
.” The listed prices remained “
$10.00S
.
$14 DBL
.” The sign vibrated in the wind. There were two cars in the parking lot, a rusted brown Dodge Dart coupe and a new blue Ford Fairmont sedan. “No luck,” the lieutenant said to the driver, who wore sergeant’s insignia. “Hasn’t come in here yet.”

“Think maybe we oughta check?” the sergeant said. He pulled into the lot.

“Can’t do any harm, I guess,” the lieutenant said. “But she said if he is here, then his car is here, and it isn’t. She seemed to know the guy pretty good. But yeah, it can’t hurt to check. You get the wind this time, and I sit in the car. Flag me if he’s here.”

The sergeant put the Ford in Park. “Suits me,” he said. “I sure don’t mind. Past ten or fifteen minutes I’ve needed to take a leak. This goddamned detail anyway. If I didn’t hate it anyway, doing what we’re doing, I’d hate it just because a man can’t take a leak.” He shut off the ignition.

The lieutenant said, “No, leave it running. One thing to sit here on my ass; I don’t need it getting cold.”

The sergeant restarted the car and got out, the wind grabbing the door. He closed it after some effort and walked toward the office. One green metal lawn chair
had been turned and tipped against the wall. The other had blown over and rested on its side. The spindly white metal table remained upright, but its glass top was missing. The sergeant saw a sign hanging inside the glass storm door. It read: “Back in Ten Minutes.” He opened the storm door. He tried the inside door. It was locked. He shut the storm door and surveyed the first floor. There was a cleaning cart parked four doors down. He looked toward the army car and then pointed toward the cart. He saw the lieutenant nod. He went down to the cart and knocked on the door closest to it. It opened. A small woman in her late fifties with an angry expression glared out at him over the chain lock on the door. “Yeah?” she said. “I ain’t got the key to the office and I don’t know where he is. So I can’t rent you no room and I probably can’t help you.”