“Went to Estate Management.”
“Okay, and who controlled the house escrow?”
Shepard said, “Me.”
“And when Estate Management pulled out, and you were stuck with a lot of money invested and no backing, you dipped into the escrow.”
“Yeah, I used it all. I had to. When Estate Management folded, the town held up on the building permits. All there was was the building sites staked off. We hadn’t brought the utilities in yet. You know, water, sewage, that kind of thing.”
I nodded.
“Well, the town said, nobody gets a permit to build anything until the utilities are in. They really screwed me. I mean, I guess they had to. Things smelled awful funny when Estate went bankrupt. A lot of money disappeared, all those land deposits, and a lot of people started wondering about what happened. It smelled awful bad. But I was humped. I had all my capital tied up in the goddamned land and the only way I was going to get it back was to build the houses and sell them. But I couldn’t do that because I couldn’t get a permit until I put in the utilities. And I couldn’t put in the utilities because I didn’t have any money. And nobody wanted to finance the thing. Banks only want to give you money when you can prove you don’t need it, you know that. And they really didn’t want to have anything to do with Promised Land, because by now the story was all around financial circles and the IRS and the SEC and the Mass attorney general’s office and the FCC and a bunch of other people were starting to investigate Estate Management, and a group of people who’d bought land were suing Estate Management. So I scooped the escrow money. I was stuck. It was that or close up shop and start looking for work without enough money to have my resume typed. I’m forty-five years old.”
“Yeah, I know. Let me guess the next thing that happened. The group that was suing Estate Management also decided to get its house deposit back.”
Shepard nodded.
“And of course, since you’d used it to start bringing in utilities, you couldn’t give it back.”
He kept nodding as I talked.
“So you found Powers someplace and he lent you the dough. What was the interest rate? Three percent a week?”
“Three and a half.”
“And, of course, payment on the principal.”
Shepard nodded some more.
“And you couldn’t make it.”
Nod.
“And Hawk beat you up.”
“Yeah. Actually he didn’t do it himself. He had two guys do it, and he, like, supervised.”
“Hawk’s moving up. Executive level. He was always a comer.”
“He said he just does the killing now, the sweaty work he delegates.”
“And so here we are.”
“Yeah,” Shepard said. He leaned his head against the window. “The thing is, Powers’ money bailed me out. I was coming back. The only money I owe is Powers and I can’t pay. It’s like—I’m so close and the only way to win is to lose.”
Chapter 18
Shepard looked at me expectantly when he was through telling me his sins.
“What do you want,” I said, “absolution? Say two Our Fathers and three Hail Marys and make a good act of contrition? Confession may be good for the soul but it’s not going to help your body any if we can’t figure a way out.”
“What could I do,” he said. “I was in a corner, I had to crib on the escrow money. Estate Management got off with four or five million bucks. Was I supposed to watch it all go down the pipe? Everything I’ve been working for? Everything I am?”
“Someday we can talk about just what the hell you were working for, and maybe even what you are. Not now. How hot is Powers breathing on your neck?”
“We’ve got a meeting set up for tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“At Hawk’s room in the Holiday Inn.”
“Okay, I’ll go with you.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I’ve got to think. But it’s better than going alone, isn’t it.”
Shepard’s breath came out in a rush. “Oh, hell, yes,” he said, and finished the bourbon.
“Maybe we can talk them into an extension,” I said. “The more time I got, the more chance to work out something.”
“But what can we do?”
“I don’t know. What Powers is doing, remember, is illegal. If we get really stuck we can blow the whistle and you can be state’s evidence against Powers and get out of it with a tongue-lashing.”
“But I’m ruined.”
“Depends how you define ruined,” I said. “Being King Powers’ partner, rich or poor, would be awful close to ruination. Being dead also.”
“No,” he said. “I can’t go to the cops.”
“Not yet you can’t. Maybe later you’ll have to.”
“How would I get Pam back? Broke, no business, my name in the papers for being a goddamned crook? You think she’d come back and live with me in a four-room cottage while I collected welfare?”
“I don’t know. She doesn’t seem to be coming back to you while, as far as she knows, you’re up on top.”
“You don’t know her. She’s always watching. Who’s got how much, whose house is better or worse than ours, whose lawn is greener or browner. You don’t know her.”
“She’s another problem,” I said. “We’ll work on her too, but we can’t get into marriage encounter until this problem is solved.”
“Yeah, but just remember, what I told you is absolutely confidential. I can’t risk everything. There’s got to be another way.”
“Harv,” I said. “You’re acting like you got lots of options. You don’t. You reduced your options when you dipped into the escrow, and you goddamned near eliminated them when you took some of Powers’ money. We’re talking about people who might shoot you. Remember that.”
Shepard nodded. “There’s got to be a way.”
“Yeah, there probably is. Let me think about it. What time’s the meeting tomorrow?”
“One o’clock.”
“I’ll pick you up at your house about twelve forty-five. Go home, stay there. If I need you I want to be able to reach you.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to think.”
Shepard left. Half sloshed and a little relieved. Talking about a problem sometimes gives you the illusion you’ve done something about it. At least he wasn’t trying to handle it alone. Nice clientele I had. The cops wanted Pam and the crooks wanted Harv.
I went out to the pool. Susan was sitting in a chaise in her red-flowered one-piece suit reading The Children of the Dream, by Bruno Bettelheim. She had on big, gold-rimmed sunglasses and a large white straw hat with a red band that matched the bathing suit. I stopped before she saw me and looked at her. Jesus Christ, I thought. How could anyone have ever divorced her? Maybe she’d divorced him. We’d never really talked much about it. But even so, where was he? If she’d divorced me, I’d have followed her around for the rest of our lives. I walked over, put my arms on either side of her and did a push-up on the chaise. Lowering myself until our noses touched.
“If you and I were married, and you divorced me, I would follow you around the rest of my life,” I said.
“No you wouldn’t,” she said. “You’d be too proud.”
“I would assault anyone you dated.”
“That I believe. But you’re not married to me and get off of me, you goof. You’re just showing off.”
I did five or six push-ups over her on the chaise.
“Why do you say that?” I said.
She poked me with her index finger in the solar plexus. “Off,” she said.
I did one more push-up. “You know what this makes me think of?’‘
”Of course I know what it makes you think of. Now get the hell off me, you’re bending my book.“
I snapped off one more push-up and bounced off the chaise the way a gymnast dismounts the parallel bars. Straightening to attention as my feet hit.
”Once you put adolescence behind you,“ Susan said, ”you’ll be quite an attractive guy, a bit physical but… attractive. What did Shepard want?“