“Great.” Chandler Scott sounded delighted and as though he didn't have a care in the world. “See you tomorrow.” He hung up quickly and Bernie turned to Liz.
“He'll take it.”
“Do you think that's all he wants?”
“For now. I think to him that's a hell of a lot of money, and right now he can't see beyond it. The only problem with this, as Grossman says, is that he can come back at us again, but we'll just have to face that when he does.” He couldn't afford to have it become a monthly arrangement. “With any luck, we'll be living in New York when he gets hungry again, and he'll never find us. I think next time we'll skip informing your ex-landlady when we move, or maybe you should just tell her not to give out any information.” Liz nodded. And Bernie was right, once they were in New York, Chandler probably wouldn't be able to find them. “I didn't want to meet him at the store, because then he'd always know how to find us.” She looked up at him with grateful eyes and shook her head.
“I'm so sorry I got you into this, sweetheart. I promise I'll pay you back when I save up the money.”
“Don't be ridiculous.” He put an arm around her. “This is just one of those things and we'll get it all cleaned up tomorrow.”
She looked at him with sad, serious eyes, remembering the pain Chandler Scott had caused her, and then she felt a tremor run through her and she reached a hand out to Bernie. “Will you promise me something?”
“Anything you like.” He had never loved her more, as he sat looking down at her with her enormous belly.
“If anything ever happens to me, will you protect Jane from him?” Her eyes were huge in her face and he frowned at her.
“Don't say things like that.” He was Jewish enough to be superstitious, not as much so as his mother, but enough. “Nothing's going to happen to you.” Although the doctor had warned him that women sometimes got unusually fearful, or even morbid just before they gave birth. Maybe that meant the baby would come soon.
“But will you promise? I never want him to get near her. Swear to me …” She was getting agitated and he promised.
“I love her like my own, you know that. You don't ever have to worry.” But she had nightmares as she lay in his arms that night, and he was nervous himself as he went to Harry's to meet Scott with an envelope with one hundred hundred-dollar bills in it. Liz had told him to look for a tall, thin, golden-haired man. She warned him that he might not look like anyone he might expect to meet for this purpose.
“He looks more like you'd expect to see him on a yacht or as though you'd love to introduce him to your baby sister.”
“That's terrific. I'll probably walk up to some normal guy, hand him the envelope and he'll punch me … or worse yet, take it and run.”
But as he stood at the bar at Harry's, feeling faintly like a Russian spy on a mission, watching the lunch crowd arrive, he saw him immediately as he walked in. As Liz had said, he looked handsome and jaunty. He was wearing a blazer and gray slacks, but when one looked more closely, the blazer was cheap, the shirt cuffs were frayed, and his shoes were all but worn out. His con man suit was in serious disrepair, and he looked like an aging preppie down on his luck as he walked to the bar and ordered a Scotch straight up, and held it with a trembling hand, eyeing the crowd. Bernie had not told him what he looked like, so he had the advantage. And he was almost certain this was his man. He watched Scott chat with the bartender. He said he had just returned from Arizona, and after a few more minutes and half his drink, he heard him admit that he'd been in prison there. He shrugged with a boyish smile.
“Screw 'em if they can't take a joke…. Hell, I passed a few bad checks, and the judge went nuts. It's good to be back in California.” It was a sad commentary on the state's laws, and once again Bernie was sorry they weren't back in New York, as he finally decided to approach him.
“Mr. Scott?” He spoke in a quiet voice, and slid discreetly next to Chandler as he stood with his second drink in his hand. And he was obviously very nervous. At close range, he had the same blue eyes as Jane, but so did Liz, so it was difficult to say whose eyes Jane had inherited. He had a handsome face, but he looked older than his twenty-nine years. He had thick blond hair which fell over one eye, and he could easily see how Liz might have fallen for him. He had that innocent boyish air, which had made it easy for him to rip people off, and convince them to invest in his bunko schemes. He had been kidding people ever since he was eighteen, and his frequent arrests didn't seem to stop him. But he still had the naive look of a midwestern kid, and one could see how he might have tried to give himself the aura of the country club at one time, though he appeared to be down on his luck now, and he looked at Bernie with nervous, hungry eyes the moment he spoke.
“Yes?” He smiled, but only his mouth moved. His eyes were as cold as ice as they slid over Bernie.
“My name is Fine.” He knew that was all he had to say.
“Great.” Chandler beamed. “Got something for me?”
Bernie nodded, but did not rush to hand him the envelope, as Chandler Scott's eyes took in every detail of the clothes he was wearing. “Yes, I do.” The eyes then took in his watch, but he had been careful not to wear a Patek Philippe, or even his Rolex. He was wearing a watch his father had given him years before, when he was in business school, but even that wasn't cheap, and Scott knew it. He suspected that he had hit a live one.
“Looks like little Liz found herself a nice husband this time around.”
Bernie did not comment. He silently pulled the envelope from his inside breast pocket. “I believe this is what you want. You can count it. It's all there.”
He glanced at Bernie for the flicker of an instant. “How do I know it's real?”
“Are you serious?” Bernie was shocked. “Where the hell do you think I would get counterfeit money?”
“It's been done before.”
“Take it to the bank, have them take a look. I'll wait here.” Bernie refused to look worried, and Scott didn't look as though he was going anywhere as he thumbed through the hundred-dollar bills in the envelope. It was all there. Ten thousand dollars. “I want to make one thing very clear before you go. Don't come back again. We won't give you a dime next time. Is that clear?”
His eyes bore into Chandler's and the handsome blond smiled. “I get the message.” He drained his drink, set down the glass, slipped the envelope into his blazer, and looked at Bernie one last time. “Give Liz my love. Sorry not to have seen her.” Bernie wanted to kick him in the gut, but he sat very still. It was interesting he hadn't mentioned Jane once since they'd met. He had sold her for ten thousand dollars, and with a casual wave at the bartender, he strolled out of the restaurant and sauntered around the corner, as Bernie sat shaking at the bar. He didn't even want his drink. He just wanted to go home to Liz, and make sure she was all right. He was faintly afraid that he might show up to bother Liz, or try to see Jane in spite of the arrangement. But Bernie found it difficult to believe that he cared about the child. He had shown absolutely no interest in her.
He hurried outside, got back in his car, and drove to Buchanan and Vallejo. He left the car in front of their garage and hurried up the steep steps. He felt shaken by the encounter and he wasn't sure why, but all he knew was he had to see Liz. He struggled with the key, and at first he thought there was no one home, but as he looked into the kitchen he saw her. She was brushing the hair out of her eyes and baking more cookies for him and Jane.
“Hi there.” His face broke into a slow smile. He was so relieved to see her he could have cried, and she sat down heavily on a kitchen chair, and smiled up at him. She looked like a princess in a fairy tale, except for the enormous tummy. “Hello, sweetheart.” He went to gently touch her face and she leaned her head against him. She had been worried about him all morning, and feeling guilty because of the trouble and expense she had caused him.