With that sorry premise, I excused myself and went to the bathroom.
He was still there, though, when I came back.
“Think about it,” he said.
“I already have.”
“ Think about it, you dumb schmuck.” He looked around critically. “You’re like me, Janeway, a man of action. What the hell are you doing here?”
I’ll give it one try, I thought, see if I can make him understand the tiniest truth about the world he’s blundered into. But I couldn’t find the words even for that. You’ll never convince a doorknob that there’s anything more to life than getting pushed, pulled, and turned.
“I appreciate the thought,” I said, “but I’ve got to pass.”
“This job’s tailor-made for you, it’s got your name stamped all over it. You want proof?…I’ll toss you a plum. Two days’ work, you pick up five grand. There’s even a book angle, if you’re interested.”
I stared at him.
“Do I finally have your attention?” he said, grinning. “Did I just say a magic word or something?”
“You might’ve started with that, saved yourself a lot of time.”
“Shut up and listen. I need somebody to go pick up a skip. My staffs booked solid for the next two weeks; I’m so tight right now I can’t even send the janitor out there. This lady needs to be delivered back to the district court in Taos, New Mexico, ten days from tomorrow, absolute latest. The bondsman’s out fifty grand and he’s willing to grease our cut to fifteen percent for dragging her back. I’ve already done the arithmetic: that’s seventy-five big ones, just for taking a couple of plane rides. I pay your freight out there, you go first-class all the way, plus I give you the big cut.”
“Where’s out there?”
“She’s in Seattle.”
“How do you know that?”
“I went to Madame Houdini and looked in a crystal ball, you fuckin‘ schlemiel. I play the odds, that’s how. This gal comes from there, she’s still got people there, where else is she gonna go? I called a guy I know and put him on her case. Just sit and watch, you know the routine. Yesterday, around four o’clock, there she comes, bingo, we got her. My guy just gives her plenty of rope, and after a while she leads him to the Y, where she’s staying.”
“Where’s your guy now?”
“Still on her tail. He called me from a phone booth an hour ago, while she was getting her breakfast at the bus station lunch counter.”
“Why not just have him pick her up? Seems to me that’d be the easy way.”
“It’s not him I’m trying to impress, meatball. Let me level with you, Janeway: I don’t give a rat’s ass about this case, it’s just a way for you to make some quick and easy dough and see how much fun workin‘ for your old buddy really is. I swear to God, when I thought of you last night, it was like the answer to some prayer. I’ve been needing somebody like you as a ramrod in my office for at least a year now, but nobody I talked to seemed right for the job. Then this Eleanor Rigby thing popped and it came to me in one fell swoop. Cliff Janeway! What a natural.”
“What Eleanor Rigby thing?”
“That’s the skip’s name.”
I blinked. “Eleanor Rigby ?”
“Just like the song,” Slater said in the same tone of voice. But his eyes had suddenly narrowed and I sensed him watching me keenly, as if, perhaps, I might know Eleanor Rigby as something other than a song of my youth.
“Eleanor Rigby,” I said, staring back at him.
“Yeah, but this little baby’s not wasting away to a fast old age.”
I blinked again, this time at the picture he showed me.
“Not bad, huh? You make five big ones and you get to ride all the way home handcuffed to that . I’d do this one myself, old buddy, if it wasn’t for a radio date and Denver Magazine .”
Then, very much against all my better judgment, I said, “Tell me about it.”
2
Eleanor Rigby had gone to Taos to steal a book: that, at least, was how the betting line was running. On the night of September 14, four weeks ago, she had by her own account arrived in New Mexico. Five nights later she had burglarized the country home of Charles and Jonelle Jeffords. While tossing the house, she was surprised by the Jeffordses sudden return; a struggle ensued and shots were fired. According to a statement by Mrs. Jeffords, the Rigby woman had shot up the place in a panic and escaped the house. The law came quickly and Rigby was flushed out of the surrounding woods. She had initially been charged with aggravated burglary, a violation of New Mexico statute 30-16-4: then, after further interviews with the victims, the DA had added the more serious business—aggravated assault, assault with a deadly weapon, and attempted murder. I didn’t know what the penalties were in New Mexico, but it probably wasn’t much different from Colorado. The whole package could get her ten years in the state penitentiary. The judge had set a standard baiclass="underline" the DA had probably argued that Rigby had no ties to the community and was not a good risk, but judges, even in the punitive era we seem to be heading into, are reluctant to throw away the key before a defendant has had her day in court. Bail was $50,000: Rigby had put up as collateral a property she owned, a wooded tract near Atlanta that had been left her by her grandfather. The bondsman had posted the cash bond and had taken title to the property as a guarantee that she’d appear for her court date.
But Rigby did not appear. She returned to the Jeffordses’ house, broke in again, stole some papers and a book, and this time got away.
“That’s where we come in,” Slater said. “The Jeffords woman wants her book back; it’s one of those things, you know how people get over their stuff. A few days later she heard from the cops that Rigby had been seen in Denver; Jeffords got pipelined to me. It didn’t take us long to figure out that Rigby had been here for one night only, just passing through on her way to Seattle. The rest is history. My guy’s got a bead on her and she’s sittin‘ in the bus station, waiting for one of us to come pick her up. That’s when I thought of you, old buddy. I’m sittin’ at my desk thinking about this crazy dame and her book, and all of a sudden it hits me like a bolt of lightning right in the ass. Janeway ! And I wonder where the hell my head’s been the last two years. I didn’t give a damn about the case anymore, I’ve got bigger problems than that on my mind, and you, my good old buddy, are the answer to all of ‘em.”
I looked at him, wondering how much of this bullshit I was expected to swallow at one time.
“Think of it this way, Clime. You got nothing to lose, and you can buy a helluva lot of books for five grand.”
It was almost uncanny: that’s exactly what I was thinking, almost to the word. It was as if Slater had drilled a hole in my head and it had come spilling out.
“And while you’re up there, you can double your money if you happen to stumble over that little book that Jeffords wants back so bad. Best deal you’ve had in a month of Sundays. You get five grand guaranteed, just for getting on the airplane. Get lucky and make yourself another five.”
“What’s the name of this book you’re looking for?”
He got out his wallet and unfolded a paper. “You familiar with a thing called The Raven ?”
“Seems like I’ve heard of it once or twice. It’s a poem. Written by Edgar Allan Poe.”
“This one was by some guy named Grayson. Does that make any sense to you?”
“Not so far.”
“All I can tell you is what the client told me. I wrote it down real careful, went back over it half a dozen times, and it’s still Greek.”