Shed have to get out to the range one of these days; she was losing her edge.
MARCIA KRESGE WAS GETTING COMFORTABLE ON James T. Bones couch: Are you going to get the job?
I dont know. ODells pretty strong.
How about McDonald?
We can handle McDonald.
Good. Hes an asshole. ODell, you know, smokes dope.
So what? Bone said. So do you.
Im not trying to get to be a bank president, Kresge said.
I dont think thats enough to disqualify her, Bone said.
It would if she was arrested for possession, Kresge said. The board wouldnt touch her with a ten-foot pole.
Youd really wish that on her? Bone asked with real curiosity.
Id like to see you get the job, Kresge said. And I could fix the bust.
How?
Weve got the same dealer, Kresge said.
Bone laughed despite himself. Howd that happen?
She shrugged, not seeing anything funny in the coincidence. You know, we all hang out at the same places, and word gets around. This guy, Mark, used to be a waiter at The Falls. Hes working his way through college.
Selling grass?
Grass, speed, acid, coke, heroin, ecstasy. PCP probably. Anyway, he deals to Susan. If somebody tipped off thepolice, maybe they could catch him making a delivery. You know, socialite dope ring. The cops would like that.
What if they got your name? Bone asked.
She shrugged. Id get rid of everything before I tipped them, and I wouldnt buy any more. Whatre they going to do? If they even got my name, Id sue their butts off if they let it out.
Listen, Bone said, now serious, leaning toward her: Forget it. I swear to God, Marcia, if anybody tips off the cops about Susan, Ill whip your ass.
Oooh… that could be fun, she said lightly.
No. It wouldnt be fun, he snapped.
Sometimes he frightened her, just a bit, she thought. But a bit more than she found pleasant. Youre not gonna get this job by looking pretty, you know, she snapped back.
I know that. Im working on it, he said.
I could talk to a couple of people.
Anything you could do Id appreciate… but let me know first.
Hey: If I go into bankers-wife mode, I could probably deliver two or three votes off that board. That damn Jack OGrady has been trying to get my pants off for fifteen years: I bet he could pull a couple votes for you.
I think Jacks already with me, Bone said. But encouragement would be good.
Even if I have to take my pants off?
How big a change would that be? he asked.
A pause. Then Kresge, smiling prettily, said, Really great fuckin thing to say, Bone.
Tell you the truth, Im surprised the police havent spent more time with you. Youre not the most discreet person in the world, and you werent divorced when Dan was killed.
I can be discreet when I wanna be, she said. Look at us.
Okay.
Besides, a woman copdidcome around and talk to meSherrill, her name was. Last name. She had that big-titlook you go for. And hell, I told her everything.
But not about us.
She didnt ask.
Bone stood up, turned. Anyway: I think McDonalds in trouble. We know ODells gonna get a certain number of votes, and Ill get mine, but its McDonalds that are up for grabs.
Hows McDonald in trouble?
This copLucas Davenport, assistant chief…
I know him, actually.
He thinks McDonalds involved. Ive talked to him a couple of times and hes a smart guy. Hes talking to McDonalds pals and the word is getting out. If theres even a whiff of involvement, the boardll drop him like a hot rock.
So anything that would encourage Davenport to look at McDonald.. . that would help.
As long as it didnt turn back on us.
Ill see what The doorbell rang, and Kresge turned her head.
Bone stepped across the room and opened the heavy paneled door. Kerin Baki was there, struggling with an oversized briefcase. As she brought it in, her glasses slipped down her nose, and she jabbed them back as though theyd mutinied. She saw Kresge on the couch and said, Mrs. Kresge. Have you spoken to Mr. OGrady?
We were just talking about that, Kresge said pleasantly. Your boss was giving me a very hard time.
Baki turned, said, Mr. Bone, you should listen to Mrs. Kresge on this.
Christ, youre conspiring against me, he said.
Workingfor you, Baki said. I printed everything I could find on the mortgage company performance since McDonald took over. There are a few things we can use not necessarily his fault, but you know how mortgages have been performing…
Let me get a Coke, Bone said. What would you like, Kerin? Marcia already has a
Bloody Mary, Kresge said. And its all gone. Ill help you…
Just sparkling water, Baki said. She began spreading her papers on a coffee table as Bone and Kresge went to the kitchen to get drinks. When Baki finished with the papers, she heard Kresge laugh, a low, husky laugh with a little sex in it; she could see them moving around Bones small kitchen, inside each others personal space, casually bumping hips.
Their relationship had been clear to Baki for a while now; she wouldnt tolerate it much longer. She got so deep into that calculationthe end of Bones relationship with Marcia Kresgethat she almost didnt notice them walking toward her.
Kerin? Bone said curiously. Are you home?
He was standing next to her, holding out a glass and a bottle of lime-flavored Perrier. Oh. Sure. Preoccupied, I guess. She pushed the Perrier aside and went to the papers. This stack of papers is the annualized return on…
BONNIE BONET DYED HER HAIR BLACK, THE DENSE, sticky color of shoe polish. She dressed in black from head to toe, wore blue lipstick, and carried thirty-five extra pounds. But she was almost smart and could write poetry in Perl-5. She sat across the table from Robles and said, Because the motherfucker was going to kill a couple of thousand people, thats why.
I know youre lying, Robles said. Hed broken a sweat.
No you dont. Im not lying.
So tell me what kind of a gun you used, he said.
My fathers. 3030.
Bullshit. You never fired a gun in your life.
She sneered at him: You think I couldnt figure out a gun? Every redneck in Minnesota can shoot a gun, but I cant?
Im gonna tell the cops about this, Robles said.
Go ahead, she said. Youve got no proof.
Jesus Christ, Bonnie. I know youre lying, but youre pushing me into a corner. You get this fantasy going, youll tell somebody else, like one of your fuckin novels… Bonet laughed but looked away. Robles said, Oh, Jesus, whod you tell?
He doesnt believe me either.
You told goddamned Dick…
Well, you started it… the whole fantasy thing.
I was joking, Robles insisted. I didnt want him dead…
You got him.
But I was joking…
Too late now. You tell the cops about me, Ill tell them about you.
Robles left the bar, sweating, half drunk. Okay, she was lying. But shed never admit it. She was crazy. Almost for sure…
Terrance Robles had made just shy of a half-million dollars the previous year, and hed spent only a small part of it. With his access to information, he could grow his stake at twenty to thirty percent per year, on top of earnings. If he could hang on for another five years, he could quit. Get out. Buy an old used Cray computer somewhere, and do someseriousshit.
But he had to hold on.
He could turn Bonet in. Or, alternatively, he could kill hernothing else would shut her up. She was having too good a time.
Robles bit on a thumbnail, stumbled along the street.
LATE NIGHT: THE MIXED SMELLS OF VINEGAR AND gasoline, one pungent, one metallic; the combination smelling like blood. The vinegar went into the washtub and down the drain, followed by a steady stream of water that would carry it away.
A glass cutter: this had been in the book, which went on to say that it was probably unnecessary, but why take chances? Deep scored lines up and down the bottle, thenmore, horizontally, until the bottle was checkered with shaky, intersecting lines. Then the bottle sprayed with Windex, carefully and meticulously wiped with paper towels. No fingerprints here.