52 pickup

"How do you like it?"

"Richard call, he ask if I seen you anywhere. Said you was buying some shit for me."

"I needed it for something," Alan said. "Also I needed wheels and there he was. I figure this is not the day to grab a car and get picked up for joyriding."

"Richard going to climb up your ass."

"Let's not worry about Richard right now," Alan said. "Did you bring the man's piece?"

"I got it."

"Let me see it."

Bobby's hand came out of his side pocket with Mitchell's Smith amp; Wesson. He looked up at Alan with a mild expression, the trace of a smile, as he took the revolver in his left hand by the barrel and extended it through the open window to Alan.

Alan took it by the grip, his finger curling around the trigger.

"Is it loaded?"

Bobby gri

"This one is," Alan said.

He pulled Richard's Saturday night gun out of his hip pocket, stepped back with his left foot and shot Bobby Shy three times-in the face, in the neck, and in the chest. Doreen was screaming, banging against the door to get it open, then twisting to reach the lock button and pull it up. Alan shot her twice in the back of the head as the door swung open and she went out.

He looked closely at Bobby slumped in the seat, reached over, and got the.38 Special without touching him. He walked around the car to Doreen, his gaze moving over the empty parking lot, then looked at her lying twisted on the pavement and prodded her in the ribs with the toe of his boot.

Barbara, frowning, looked at him as he got back in the panel. "I heard an awful noise. Loud noise somewhere."

"Fireworks," Alan said. "Somebody celebrating."

He checked them into a Holiday I

He said, "How you doing, sport? You got it?… That's very good. It fits in the case all right?… Good. Now listen. Eleven o'clock I want you to leave your place and go north on Ninety-four toward Port Huron. You go past the turnoff to Selfridge Aim Force Base, you'll see the sign. Go past about two miles… Wait a minute…Wait… wait, hey wait, will you! What do you mean you don't have a car?" He listened for a moment. "Hold on." Alan put his hand over the mouthpiece and looked at Barbara lying on the bed with her eyes open.

"Yesterday your husband said something about he didn't have a car."

"What?"

"When he called, saying he wasn't coming home. He said something about his car. What was it?"

Barbara shook her head. "I don't remember."

"He just said he's leasing another one. He was supposed to get it today, but it didn't come, it's not ready yet."

Barbara shook her head again. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Alan waited.

Son of a bitch. He had to think about it, but he had to tell Mitchell something. He said into the phone then, "Borrow one, I'll call you back." And hung up.

He let her out of the bathroom after the young kid from room service was gone. The tray, with its metal-covered plates and wine bottle in a plastic bucket, sat on the low sectional dresser in front of the mirror and at first she thought there were two trays.

Barbara could smell the french fries and felt nauseated again. She shook her head when Alan told her to help herself. He didn't seem to care. He was digging into the fries with his fingers, dipping them in catsup and stuffing them into his mouth as he got the wine out and poured two glasses. Barbara took one because she was thirsty and it looked cold. He made her come over to take it. Standing by the dresser she saw herself in the mirror. She looked ill, as though she'd been in bed with the flu. She should have on a robe, not a raincoat. She needed makeup and a hairbrush. But she knew she had no purse with her. The bottom of the raincoat was partly open. She buttoned it with one hand and was aware, then, that she wasn't wearing anything beneath the coat. Alan told her to sit on the bed and be a good girl. The wine was very cold. As she sipped it he let her have a cigarette and she began to feel a little better.

Alan was standing eating his hamburger, getting it done, staying close to the french fries and catsup on the tray. He was hungry. He could worry about Mitchell and wonder if the son of a bitch was pulling something, but he was still hungry and had to eat. The wine was good; it helped him relax. But he wished he'd taken a little longer yesterday afternoon, another twenty minutes, and had Richard get him some reefer. With reefer he could get his head together and see everything clearly.

He said to Barbara, "He been having trouble with his car?"

"Not that I know of."

"How was he going to get home?"

"You said he was leasing another one, didn't you?"

"But it didn't come. The day of all days he's got to have a car he says it didn't come."

"That happens, doesn't it?"

Alan was thoughtful. "I don't know. He could be pulling something. But I don't have time anymore to fool around."

Barbara watched him drink his wine and fill the glass again.

"If my husband told you he'll pay you, he will."

"I take your word for it."

"This is your idea," Barbara said, "not ours. I would assume you have to be optimistic in your business, believe you're going to be paid, or you'd never have gone into it."

She continued to watch him as he moved to the front of the motel room and pulled the draperies back to look out. It was dark now. She could see the shiny front of a car and neon lights on the street beyond.

"Why does he have to have a car?"

"To go where I tell him."

"I mean why not meet him at the plant, pick up the money there?"

Alan turned from the window to look at her but said nothing.

"You're afraid of the police," Barbara said. "But wherever you tell him to meet you he could bring the police, couldn't he?" Barbara paused. "But he won't. If he said he'll pay you, he will."

"Lie down," Alan said. "If I want to talk to you, I'll let you know."

He went into the bathroom, leaving the door open, came out and poured himself another glass of wine. He sat down now, turning off the lamp next to the chair, sipped the wine and smoked two cigarettes in the semidarkness. Barbara wasn't sure how much time passed, perhaps twenty minutes or a half-hour. He came over to the phone, sat on the bed facing her and lighted another cigarette before giving the operator Mitchell's number.

She heard him say, "You get a car?… All right, forget it, I'm going to come see you, sometime after your shift lets out… Just be there, alone. You know who's going to be with me. I'm going to drive in the parking lot. I don't like it, I drive out and that's all for your wife. I like it, you bring the money out and we do business… No, we get there I'll tell you what happens next." He paused, listening. "No, she's fine, man. Fact I didn't know an old lady'd be that good. Hey, don't she moan and squirm?" Alan laughed out loud hanging up the phone.

At a quarter past eleven he poured heroin into a Holiday I