Unknown Man #89

“Raymond, fix me one, will you please?”

… he’d be free to work on Miz Leary some more and, goddamn it, get her signed up this time. But if Ryan was out of it…

“Make it a good one, Raymond.”

… the flunky niggers wouldn’t know what to do with the papers and most likely throw them away. He’d still have to spend months, time and money, making up a new list.

For the most part, Mr. Perez’s reasoning was sound. Where he missed was assuming what the flunky niggers would do. He didn’t know Virgil Royal.

When Ryan came in, Denise clung to him. He put his arms around her and they held on to each other.

“You’re go

“Where were you?-I heard the shots, I knew it had to be you as soon as I heard the noise.”

“Raymond was waiting.”

“Did they get him?”

“I don’t know. He chased me-the guy’s crazy, ru

“You’re soaking wet.”

“I came through that field back of here, it was all mud and crap.”

“You’re covered with blood.” She had backed away to look at him. “My God, are you shot?”

“No, it’s from broken glass. Just my hand, it’s not bad. I must’ve got some on my face.”

“You look like you were in a war.”

“I feel like it.”

He got his clothes off and took a shower. Denise came in while he was drying himself, and he stopped and kissed her and held her again, wrapping the towel around both of them. It felt good under there, and he knew it was going to get a lot better once they talked a little and got that out of the way.

He sat in bed with the covers up around his waist watching her undress. She was neat, folding her slacks over the back of a chair as she told him about the police being here, squad cars outside more than an hour while they questioned the tenants.

“What’d they ask you?”

“If I’d seen anything, recognized anyone. Or if I knew of anyone in the building that might be involved. I didn’t know where you were, I wasn’t sure. I kept thinking, I’ll hear from you soon. If I don’t, I’ll do something.”

“What were you going to do?”

“Call the police and tell them.”

He didn’t want to get into that now.

“You look good, still tan.”

“You don’t know how glad I was to see you.” In her white bikini panties now in the lamplight, taking off her work shirt, very natural about it, but still keyed up and in her mind, concerned about him, no bra, good, those neat breasts, white, and the slim tan body, hooking her thumbs in the panties now. He loved the word girl. She was a girl. She was more than that, way more, someone who talked to him with quiet awareness in her eyes, the person in there looking out as they looked at each other and talked and didn’t have to finish sentences-which was beyond his comprehension, to feel natural, more himself, because of a closeness to someone else-but what made it even better, he was always conscious of her girlness. He wanted to touch her and hold her, and when he did he couldn’t touch and hold her enough.

“What’re you waiting for?”

“I’ll be right back.” She went out of the room, still in her panties. Ryan lay back, settling his head on the pillow.

He began to think of Raymond again, what Raymond would do if he hadn’t been picked up-Raymond out there loose, reporting to his keeper, and Mr. Perez throwing him a fried shrimp and patting him on the head. Jesus, call the police and get those two put in a cage, quick.

No, he had to hear from Virgil first. If Virgil got the papers, the list-okay, then call the police. If he didn’t-shit, then what? Get Raymond arrested, involve Mr. Perez if that was possible. Go on. And Mr. Perez fingers you as an accomplice. Or he doesn’t get arrested but says fuck this, it isn’t worth it, and takes off. And nobody ever gets to touch the hundred and fifty thousand. Sitting there.

He had to quit thinking. Or else call Virgil right now.

“I stuffed newspaper in your shoes so they wouldn’t curl up,” Denise said, coming into the room as he rolled out of bed. “Where you going?”

“I got to make a phone call.”

“You always talk on the phone naked?”

“Not always.” He thought of Virgil, his hat shading his face, Virgil doing something, letting the phone ring. Virgil not home yet. There was a click. The voice said, “How you doing?”

“The other way around,” Ryan said. “How’d you do?”

“Say ten thousand, huh, for all this paper?”

Ryan let his breath out, relieved, all the worrying for nothing. “You got it.”

“Yeah, I got it. I’m looking at it.”

“Any problems?”

“No problems,” Virgil said, “some questions in my mind. Like what is it in here worth the money? Worth how much?”

Ryan felt himself tense. He kept his voice calm, though. “You said ten thousand, your figure, right? I said I wasn’t going to argue with you. Remember?”

“I remember how easy you said it. Worth ten thousand to you.”

“I agreed with you. Why argue?”

“But maybe worth more, huh?”

“I thought we made a deal. You holding me up now, seeing if you can get more?”

“I’m asking you, worth how much?” Virgil said. “Or worth how much to somebody else?”

There it was. Ryan came up with a pretty good imitation of a laugh. He said, “Hey, you want to see if you can get some bids? You don’t even know what you’re selling.”

“But you know,” Virgil said, “and so does the man used to have it. Think about can you go any higher than ten and maybe I’ll call you back.”

“You want to discuss it,” Ryan said, “okay, but I’ve got to see what you’ve got first. Virgil?” He was saying it as Virgil hung up.

Ryan got a cigarette from the counter and lit it going into the bedroom. The lamp was turned off, Denise was in bed.

“Virgil’s holding us up.”

“He got the papers?”

“He doesn’t know what he’s got, but he thinks it’s worth more than ten.”

“Why don’t you come to bed?”

He stubbed the cigarette out in an ashtray on the nightstand and got in next to her.

“Warm me,” Denise said.

“I should’ve known better, handing him something like that.”

“Let’s not talk about it anymore tonight, okay?” Denise said, moving close to him.

“You know who he’s go

“Let’s not talk about anything unless, you know, you want to say something… good.”

“You feel good.”

“So do you,” Denise said in the darkness. “I know the feel of you now. I could be blindfolded and pick you out in a crowd, you know that? In a locker room at the Y. I’d feel my way along, just feeling arms and maybe chests. I love to touch your chest… and your flat stomach, and your… thigh.” She waited. “Where are you?”

“You haven’t said that in a while.”

“I’m not saying it for me this time, I’m saying it for you. Where are you?”

“I’m here.”

“No, you aren’t,” Denise said, “not yet. But I’m going to get you here.” She did, too, touching him and saying, close to him in the darkness, “What do we need?”

“Here we go,” Virgil said.

“Here you go,” Tunafish said. “You doing it.”

Virgil picked up the phone and dialed a number, glancing at the phone book open next to him. The suitcase and most of the papers were on the floor of Virgil’s living room. The Gideon Bible was on the coffee table. The picture of the cat on the boat with the busted mast and the storm coming was on the wall over Virgil’s hi-fi system. He had given the .32 Beretta to Tunafish, making him take it.

Tunafish watched Virgil. He wanted a smoke, but Virgil didn’t have any. He didn’t like it at all, getting into something else now, thinking each time, Okay, when it’s over he won’t need me no more. Then Virgil would call him again. Add them up, the things he was in.

Shooting Lo

Following the man. Getting nothing for it.

Stealing the other man’s papers.