No, taking them out to sea was the only way to avoid an investigation. She'd have to come up with a way to do it. Put her three lovers in the car and take them to Marina del Rey. She had the name of the guy with the boat. Or take them out to the desert and scatter them around. All three are convicts, with enemies.
Now it was starting to rain, getting dark early.
She could sit here waiting for Foley to call. Or, she could put on Cundo's raincoat with the deep pockets and drop in on him.
Foley and Lou Adams were in the sitting room drinking beer, trying to decide on an ending for Lou's book, Foley asking him about actual cases he was on, one Foley might've read about.
"You mean how we developed evidence?"
"I was thinking more of arrests," Foley said. "Tight spots you were in. Like one time I was in a bank, somebody pushed a button, the cops are already outside not letting people in, hurrying the ones coming out."
"And you and the five grand in the umbrella are hustled out. The cops never heard of a bank robber carrying an umbrella, the dumb fucks. That wouldn't work if I was there, I recognize the famous Jack Foley-no, the infamous Jack Foley-and bust his ass as he's coming out."
"You know about that one?"
"You told me about it one time I'm trying to get you to list your bank licks. I said gimme the ones I can close and you shut up." "What page are you on?"
"I told you I got between five and six hundred, around in there."
"You came to see me at Gun Club," Foley said, "told me you're from the Big Easy. I'm suppose to tell you all the bank jobs I've pulled, since we're both from New Orleans."
"Tell me for my book and I won't bother you no more. The number of banks."
"A hundred and seventy-six."
"Jesus Christ, in twenty-five years?"
"Take off for time served, it would be close to fifteen years. That's eleven and a half a year. Take off for Christmas, the Fourth of July and holydays of obligation, it's close to one a month. Five grand a month, sometimes more, spending my time at the seashore. But I miss being married and having a family. I blew that one. Unless she's still a young girl when I marry her. I should be looking at a certain age. You think?" Foley said, "But you're not in any of my bank jobs. You need one where you step up and do the job, a tough situation, where you could get shot."
Lou said, "I was in that kind more'n once. We go in to make an arrest on a guy we know is a looney-toon believed to be armed. We confront him in the kitchen of his girlfriend's house. Her name was Louise. The guy has a drawer open and is reaching in. It looked like a knife drawer. I tell him to take his hand out of the fucking drawer. He says, 'I'm getting a Kleenex, I gotta blow my fuckin' nose.' His hand comes out of the drawer with a Kleenex." Lou paused. "Actually it was a Puff, another kind of tissue."
Foley waited for him.
"His other hand is trying to get a Smith out of his pants. He never got to blow his nose."
Foley said, "You saw the gun in time."
"Once we laid him out and went through his clothes." He looked at Foley and said, "Hey, he was going for it."
"I was thinking," Foley said, "you could put me in one of your cases, only I never carried a gun. Once or twice I might've referred to having one, to the teller, but I never packed. It would be, you know, in a humorous way. We're gonna have to keep thinking to get you an ending."
Lou Adams got up to leave. He said, "Swear you'll never rob another bank and I'm outta here."
"I can't do that," Foley said. "It could be years from now when I'm old and broke. Can you wait that long?"
"Forget it. I'll make up an ending," Lou said and left.
Foley got up from the table, the empty beer bottles, the ashtray full of butts, went to the phone on the counter and called Jimmy Rios. Zorro answered.
"I'm about to see the lovely Dawn," Foley said. "Tico's out of the picture, so Jimmy's safe, nothing can happen to him and he'll never see Dawn again. Tell him that and put him on."
He waited, looking out at the weather, almost dark now, fog setting in.
Jimmy's voice said, "Jack, tell me how you going to handle this with Dawn."
Foley wasn't sure. In fact, he had no idea.
He said, "First tell me what happened last night.
Dawn's hands were in the pockets of the raincoat, Cundo's, her right hand gripping the Walther without the silencer. It didn't fit, part of her hand would be out of the pocket. It was all right with Dawn; she wanted to hear it this time. But she'd bring it just in case, the silencer in her left hand in the pocket.
Cundo's black raincoat buttoned up came almost to her knees. Dawn stood in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom. She looked great in black with her dark hair and Egyptian eyes, seeing herself as Hatshepsut, the queen who became a king. The Dawn in the mirror said:
"Hi, Jack, I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop in."
She said, "You're kidding, right? You thought you'd drop in? Just take out the fucking gun and shoot him."
She wasn't thinking of doing it right away. She thought she might have some little girl-type fun with him first. Turn him on.
The gun was ready?
She checked it. Loaded, cocked, ready to fire.
You haven't pulled it out of the coat yet.
She brought it out. The hammer caught for a couple of seconds on the hem of the pocket. She released the hammer and drew the Walther again. Good-it came right out. She'd fire without cocking it. Unless she might have a few things to say first. Then cock the gun for effect, just before she says, "So long, Jack, it's been…
"Fun?
"A ball?
"It's been nice knowing you."
She said, "It's been nice knowing you?"
She said, "It was nice taking showers with you."
She was making it hard, trying to think instead of just saying it. How about, "I love you, Jack, but you're no six-million-dollar man." That wasn't bad. He'd get it.
She said to her image, "Did you ever think you were greedy?
"Not really.
"You ever think of yourself as a cold bitch?
"When I have to be. But I'm never really cold. You think? When you've put in eight long years living by yourself-
"Poor you.
"Well, it's true. I waited eight fucking years for something to happen and had to do it myself. "Poor, poor you.
"Shut up.
"You ready?
"Let's go, girl."
She left through the front door, hands in her pockets, one gripping the Walther, the other holding the silencer. She reached the sidewalk to go to the footbridge and stopped. A figure was on the walk across the canal, moving toward the bridge. In a light, shapeless coat. Foley. It had to be…
"Jack?"
And knew it was a mistake. He hadn't seen her.
He stopped. He said after a moment, "Dawn? What've you got on? I can barely make you out."
If she had the silencer screwed on… There was still time. She said, "I'm wearing Cundo's raincoat, it just fits me," turned as if modeling the coat and screwed the silencer in place. She faced him again, the Walther at her side. What she wanted to hear was a plane coming in to LAX. They heard planes all the time, the airport just seven miles south of Venice. She said, "Where are you going?"
"I was coming to see you."
There-an airliner coming in and she raised the Walther. Dawn said, "And I was coming to see you," and fired, heard the BB sound, the pop, and saw him turn. Saw him stop then and look at the house behind him.
He said, "What was that? Like glass breaking."
No lights on in the house, no one coming out.