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Harry looked so depressed he seemed in a daze.

“I didn’t think he’d do it. I said to him, ‘I wonder if I’ll ever see you again.’ But I honestly thought I would.”

Catlett sat down with Harry at the table wondering why, if Chili Palmer was going to run with it, he didn’t take a flight out while he was at the airport. Why come back to the hotel? The Bear would have the answer if he could ever locate the Bear.

“Harry, you can’t trust nobody like that, has those bad connections. This man come in off the street, nobody speaking for him, you don’t know who he is.”

“He was working for Mesas. I know the people there and they know him. They use him for collections.”

“They know the guy that takes out the garbage too. Harry. How’d he find you right away if I could-n’t?”

“Through Frank DePhillips.”

“Man, what does that tell you? What you’re saying to me right there?”

“I was staying here that night . . .”

“Yeah, with Karen?”

“We’re in bed, we hear a noise. Voices. We listen awhile. It’s the TV, downstairs. Karen says, ‘But it can’t just come on by itself.’ I tell her, ‘That’s right, somebody had to push the button.’ So I go down . . .”

“You have a gun?”

“Where do I get a gun? Karen doesn’t own one. No, I went downstairs figuring it has to be somebody she knows. Some friend of hers probably stoned, thinks he’s a riot. I walk in the study, the TV goes off—it was the Letterman show—the light comes on and there’s Chili sitting at the desk.”

“Chili Palmer,” Catlett said, “yeah. Sneaky, huh? You should’ve known right then, just from the way he does things. Man breaks in the house . . .”

“The patio door was open.”

“Yeah? Was there a sign on it, ‘Come on in’? Harry, you walk in where you don’t belong it’s breaking and entering, whether you have to break in or not. Chili Palmer commits a felony against the law and you take him in, make him your partner.”

“He isn’t my partner,” Harry said, and took a drink from his glass. “I don’t know what he is.”

That was okay as far as it went. But what Catlett wanted would be for Harry to kick and scream, call the man names. A no-good lying motherfucker would cover it. Harry though, for some reason, did-n’t seem all the way unsold yet on Chili Palmer. So Catlett reset his gold-frame sunglasses and went at him again saying, “The man robs you and you tell me you don’t know what he is? If he managed to get his hands on the hundred and seventy thousand and took off with it . . . Harry, you paying attention?”

“Yeah, if he got it, what?”

“Or, if he messed up out there and they got it, but somehow or other they didn’t get him . . . What I’m saying is either way, Harry, it was your money. You understand? Soon as I presented you with the key to the locker it was the same as giving you the money. So you the one he ripped off, huh?”

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Harry was looking at him with a frown turning all of a sudden from worried to mean.

“You’re saying I still owe it to you? A hundred and seventy grand I haven’t even seen?”

It wasn’t the point Catlett had intended to make. Yeah, but it was true. He opened his hands, helpless, and said to Harry, “Man, you owe me something.”

Karen had given him a key to the front door, in case her houseman had already left.

Chili dropped his suitcase in the foyer, checked the study, the living room, then moved down the back hall to the kitchen. He knew Harry’s car, could guess who the Porsche belonged to and got it right— Mr. Bo Catlett in the kitchen with Harry, Catlett looking this way through his hotdog sunglasses. It was in Chili’s mind to grab a frying pan from the rack, go over the table with it and whop him across the head. Right now, not say a word. But he was no sooner in the kitchen Catlett was on his feet, Christ, holding a pair of shears in front of him. Chili said, “You knew I was coming, huh?” looking at the shears, the blades gunmetal, clamped together. “The Bear tell you?”

He wanted Catlett to answer, keep it between them and settle with this guy. But now Harry got into it, Harry again, ruining the moment.

“I don’t know how many times I tried to call you,” Harry said. “Where’ve you been?”

“Talking to federal agents,” Chili said, still looking at Catlett. “DEA, the ones were waiting for me.”

“They let you go?” Harry said.

“It didn’t take too long.”

Catlett said, “Uh-huh. Harry, you understand what he saying? If he was talking to federal agents, how come he’s here talking to us?”

Chili said, “I didn’t have the key on me.”

Catlett said, “You didn’t have the key . . .” and let his voice trail off. “All right, why would they pick you up then, if you didn’t have the key?”

“They thought I opened the locker.”

“But you didn’t?”

“Ask the Bear, he saw it.”

“Is that right? You talk to him?”

“After. He wanted me to give him back the key,” Chili said, and watched Catlett take that and run with it.

“Sure, ’cause I told him, anything goes wrong, see if you can help out. Like take the key off your hands, case you get followed and picked up again they won’t find it on you.” Looking at Harry: “I told you it could happen, didn’t I? That’s why I said don’t you go out there, send your man here.” Looking at Chili again. “You know what I’m talking about. You experienced in shit where you have to keep your eyes open. Was I wrong? If you still have the key, what’s the problem? Wait for it to cool and try again. Only be more careful next time.”

Chili said, “That’s all you have to say?”

Catlett frowned in his sunglasses. “I don’t see what the problem is.”

“I told you, they were waiting for me.”

“You’re the type they go for, man. I can’t help it how you look.”

This guy was not only sure of himself, he was starting to get cocky, insulting even. Chili fingered the button holding his double-breasted jacket closed.

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He said, “I’ll make you a deal. If you can get out of here before I take my coat off, I won’t clean the floor with you, get your yachtclub outfit all messed up.”

Catlett shook his head, acting tired. He said, “Harry, you hear this?”

“Harry, stay out of it. This’s between me and him,” Chili said, undoing the button to let the jacket come open. He said to Catlett, “You have your choice.”

“You don’t know me,” Catlett said, his voice quiet now. “You only think you do.”

“I know if I wanted to,” Chili said, “I could take those shears away from you and cut your nuts off. You want to stay around, take a chance?”

“I think the party’s getting rough,” Catlett said. “Harry, this make any sense to you?”

“It will, when I tell him how they knew I was coming,” Chili said, holding the coat open now to slip it off his shoulders. “You want to add something to that? Ask me how I found out?”

Catlett shrugged, keeping whatever he felt about it to himself, behind his sunglasses. He said, “What’s the difference? I’m not gonna get into it with you,” and laid the shears on the table. “This kind of shit is not my style.” He moved to the door saying, “Whatever is, huh, Harry? But you still need all kinds of money, don’t you?” and walked out of the kitchen, into the hall.

Chili reached across the table to pick up the glass of wine, ice-cold on the tips of his fingers, and took a sip, Harry watching him.