Glenn followed Maurice expecting to see a bedroom, but it was like an office, an office, say, in a factory or a warehouse, old desks and file cabinets, cardboard boxes piled up, vodka bottles, ashtrays full of butts, a scale, a calculator. A white guy in shirtsleeves stood by an open window. A woman was coming out of the bathroom with the sound of the toilet flushing. Skanky, stringy-haired junkies was the way Glenn saw them, both holding their arms to their bodies now, rubbing themselves.
The man said, "Police, shit," sounding drunk or sleepy, in a nod.
"Maurice, is that you, dude?"
Maurice lifted his ski mask. So did White Boy and Kenneth.
Glenn left his covering his face.
"If it wasn't me, Frankie, it'd be somebody else."
The man said, "I'll tell you right now you won't find any product."
"You flush it down the toilet, we won't. No, I don't imagine.
Inez, how you doing, girl? Not too good, huh? Man, you look like you been chewed up and spit out. Frankie, you gonna catch cold with that window open." Maurice turned his head to Glenn.
"This is the gentleman I was telling you about use to be a customer, use to wear a suit and comb his hair; hell, use to be Frank, this scarecrow, Frankie and his lovely wife Inez. See what scag can do to a person? Now then, so we don't have to tear up your nice home," Maurice said, "get out the green from where you hid it. I'm gonna say forty fifty thousand and it's in this room. Frankie? Pay attention. You're gonna have to tell me where it is before I count to three. You ready? … One two three." Maurice raised the.45, put it on Cedric and shot him in the head. The impact sent him against the file cabinets and he seemed to hold on before sliding to the floor. Maurice stepped over to him and Glenn thought he was going to shoot him again, but all he did was stare at him-until Frankie spoke and Maurice looked up.
"You've been wanting to do him, haven't you? Shit, you came to do him."
"You think so, let's try Inez," Maurice said, turning to her as he raised the.45. "Ready for the count?"
Inez was looking right at him, all eyes, shoulders hunched, her hands tightened into fists. She said, "Give it to him!" raising her voice, the words sounding hoarse and scratchy and she began to cough saying,
"Give him what he wants."
"He's gonna shoot you anyway," Frankie said, "he's gonna shoot us both," and looked at Maurice.
"Aren't you?"
"Right this second," Maurice said, "you don't tell me where your money's at."
"It's different places in that file cabinet," Frankie said, "the one by Cedric."
Kenneth said, "You don't need Inez no more. Can I have her?"
"Go on," Maurice said, "but be quick." Kenneth took Inez by the arm and she went with him, eyes glued wide-open, tripping over her own feet, out of the room. Maurice, making a face, said to Glenn, "Would you fuck that woman? Kenneth, he don't pass up nothing has a pussy and it's free."
White Bo'y said, "Man, I wouldn't fuck her with your dick."
"All right," Maurice said, pulling the file cabinet open, "let's see what's in here." He poked through the files, finding currency he handed to Glenn who counted it, all small bills, and dropped the money in a cardboard box. It amounted to a few bucks over twenty-eight hundred. That was it. Maurice said to Frankie, "You gonna make us work, huh? You sure you want to?"
"Fuck you," Frankie said, "you're gonna kill me anyway."
Maurice didn't say if he would or not. He didn't say anything at all until they'd dumped all the files from the cabinets, looked in the boxes-some with little crack bottles in them-looked in the desk drawers, looked in the toilet tank, looked everywhere they could look, and when they were done Maurice said to Frankie, "You're right," and shot him twice in the chest-like that, bang, bang, nothing to it-Glenn watching Frankie almost go out the window, hit the sill and fall dead.
Maurice said, "I guess we through here."
Glenn, with the money, followed Maurice along the hall wanting to get out of here, man, right now, run down the stairs and out. They came to a bedroom with the door open and there was Kenneth by the bed pulling up his pants, Inez lying on the bed with her knees still raised, her legs apart and Glenn said, "Jesus," the sight repulsive to him, this worn-out junkie showing herself, that dark wedge deep between her pure white thighs, it was ugly, and yet he felt himself becoming aroused.
Kenneth said, "Who wants a piece of this?"
Glenn stood there holding the carton of money; he was one of them, wasn't he? He said, "You leave any for us?" Like he was kidding.
Maurice said, "Look out," moving into the doorway and raised his big army pistol.
Kenneth saw him and held up his hand as if to hold him off.
"Wait. What you doing?" Hurrying then to get his belt fastened.
Maurice extended his.45 into the room and fired and the white stick figure on the bed jumped and its legs came straight out stiff and hit the bed. Maurice fired again and the body jumped again, though not as much this time. Maurice paused.
"She dead?"
Kenneth looked down at Inez, Glenn watching, waiting to hear.
"If she ain't, she ought to be. Man, I never been this close."
"Make sure," Maurice said.
Glenn followed him down the stairs and out the front door once they got it unlocked, down the walk through a foot of snow to breathe in the cold air, breathe it in and let it out slow, seeing his breath. Man oh man, these guys. He got in the van with Maurice, who sat looking at the house saying, "Come on, come on." They waited. When Kenneth got in behind the wheel Maurice said, "She dead?"
"She is now."
Glenn wanted to know what he did to her, but Maurice didn't ask so he kept quiet.
They waited, the engine running now but it was still cold, their breath coming out like smoke. Finally Glenn said, "Where in the hell's White Boy?"
"In there leaving his calling card," Maurice said, and Kenneth laughed.
"White Boy's a shitter."
Kenneth kept laughing till Maurice told him to be quiet.
Glenn sat there in the dark, cold in his wool-lined raincoat, wondering what he was doing here.
When they got home Maurice peeled off some bills for Moselle. She looked at the money saying, "This is it, huh? I can do better with the police. Was on the radio, they give you a hundred dollars for every gun you turn in, no questions asked."
"You believe that?" Maurice said.
"You believe they don't check the serial numbers, see was any stole?"
"Was on JZZ just now. They wouldn't say it it wasn't true."
"Touch my weapons," Maurice said, "I'll trade you in." He turned to Glenn.
"You gonna stay with me now, I can keep an eye on you."
Glenn frowned, squinting at him.
"The fuck're you talking about?"
"So you don't disappear on me."
Glenn kept squinting, trying hard to show surprise.
"Why would I do that?"
"Like he has the gift," Moselle said to Glenn, "can read your mind. I wasn't even there and I know what you're thinking. Was worse than you imagined, wasn't it? Baby, you with the bad boys now."
TWENTY
He was quiet in the elevator, quiet once they were in the suite and Foley had called room service and learned it would take about fifteen minutes. When he told her she said, "Oh," and looked around the room as if wondering where they would sit. He watched her turn on lamps and go to the window to tell him it was still snowing. He watched her cross to the bedroom saying she'd be right back, but knew room service would arrive before she came out.
The waiter delivered a fifth of Wild Turkey, a bucket of ice, a pitcher of water, two glasses and a dish of peanuts, placing the tray on the coffee table. Foley paid him. He was sitting on the sofa pouring drinks when Karen came out of the bedroom with a cigarette, still wearing the black suit. She said, "Oh, it's here. I hope you signed for it." He didn't say if he did or not. He was eating peanuts. He got up with a drink in each hand, walked over to her and she said, "Oh, thanks," taking the drink. He watched her sip from the glass and then raise her eyebrows to say, "Mmmm," as if she'd never tasted bourbon before.