This was it. They were on it, and we were running behind time.
Maybe they already had Shirley.
It was ten to ten. I had missed Shirley going into the bank. If she had gone into the bank.
I was numb all over. They were in my apartment now. Then I remembered something, and it was as if the world tipped on its axis and sent me spinning off into black space. I remembered making lists of things, on paper, with a pencil, adding everything up to find a flaw.
I remembered doing this twice.
I remembered flushing the paper down the toilet once. What had I done with the other paper?
I forced myself to stay calm. I lit a cigarette and fidgeted. Men and women filed in and out of the brass-trimmed glass bank doors. A uniformed guard lounged outside, looking up at the sky, scratched his chin, then went inside again. Traffic clogged the street. I was so damned worried I began talking to myself. It shouldn’t take her this long, if she was in there.
All sorts of crazy things came to mind. Among them was the picture in my mind of a faceless man named Henry Lamphier, disturbed over the loss of his wife. He should be happy. They never were though. Another five minutes and I would have to go inside the bank and check. Then I saw her.
She came out of the bank. She wore an aqua dress, and she looked terrific. It really packed a wallop, how I hadn’t seen her in days. She filled that dress. Her auburn hair shone in the bright sunlight. The pallor of her face was somehow strange in this bronzed country. She belonged in a bedroom, naked, on a bed.
I had to get going. I thought of signaling her, but suddenly I couldn’t see anything except the bag she carried. I knew what was in that bag. It was shiny white leather. A rectangular-shaped small suitcase, with brass clasps. And all the feeling I’d had at seeing her suddenly changed and focused on that bag.
She didn’t spot me.
I flung open the door and waved. I called her name, but not loudly. I couldn’t shout at her. It would only draw attention. I got back under the wheel.
She turned and walked down the street along the front of the bank. When she reached the alley, she hesitated again. She changed hands with the bag, looked up and down the street. Abruptly, she turned down the alley, and even from across the street, through traffic, I heard the sharp clack-clack-clack of her heels, echoing.
I drove down the street to Seventh, turned left over toward First, and parked at the curb by the drugstore. Looking up along the sidewalk, I saw her come out of the alley and start down toward me. By now, I was soaking with sweat. I wanted to leap out of the car and run up the street to her.
We didn’t have time for anything. The only break was the law didn’t know what car I was driving. As if that would matter, unless we got out of here fast.
I watched her slim legs scissor along toward me.
“Jack?”
I snapped around in the seat. It was Grace. She had on a thin white sweater, with nothing underneath, and tight black shorts. She was big-bodied and her thighs plumped out under the tight rims of the shorts.
“Jack? What are you doing?”
She was on the sidewalk at the opposite side of the car. She opened the door and slid in across the seat and slammed the door. She pushed up close to me, her leg pressed against me, watching me.
“Grace—get out.”
“No.”
“I’ll throw you out.”
“What’s the matter with you?”
I looked up the street. Shirley had seen me. She’d seen Grace get into the car as sure as hell. She had slowed her stride and I saw the frown on her face.
“Jack, you’re acting awfully damned funny.”
“Get out.”
I didn’t know what to do.
“I’m not going to get out. I’ve been following you. I was waiting at your place and I saw you drive in behind the apartments with this car. What are you doing, Jack?”
I said, “You want me to wring your stupid neck?”
She put one hand over her mouth. “Jack,” she said. “Were those policemen looking for you? Were they? I saw some policemen going inside.”
I smelled the gin. This early in the morning and all full of gin.
I looked back up the street. Shirley was crossing the street toward the car. She hesitated halfway across, looking at me, with her face pinched up.
“Who’s that?” Grace said.
Shirley did an about-face, and started back up the street. She really swung it hard. Clack-clack-clack.
“Shirley!” I called.
She stopped.
“Shirley—come on.”
She turned and started walking back toward the car. I had my eyes on that bag in her hand. My stomach was tight up, and aching with tension. I whirled and caught hold of Grace with both hands, and sank my fingers in, and shoved my face up close to hers.
“I’ll kill you, Grace, I swear it—I’ll kill you if you don’t get out—now!”
She saw something in my face.
She began to cry. Her face pudged up and she burst into tears, with her mouth wailing. Just like her. She got out of the car like lightning and slammed the door.
“Jack?” Shirley said from my side. Like ice.
Her face had that look women get. Like you’re dead a long time and smell pretty bad, and they want to make sure they don’t step on you.
“Come around and get in,” I said.
She started around the front of the car.
“Who the hell are you, darling?” Grace said to her. She stood there spraddle-legged, with her breasts stuck out, bawling.
Shirley tried to get past her. I reached over and flung the goddamned door open. Shirley started for the door.
“No, you don’t!” Grace said, and grabbed for Shirley.
People were stopping on the sidewalk.
Shirley turned and looked at Grace. Grace said something I didn’t get, but from the expression on a woman pedestrian’s face, I could tell it was something real filthy.
Shirley hit her smack in the face with the white bag.
It was all I needed. Two dames fighting. At a time like this. I slid across the seat. “Get in, Shirley!”
Grace came at her, claws out. Shirley turned and jumped into the car. I started the engine and took off. Grace was standing back there on the street, yelling bloody murder. She started running after the car, then stopped, right in the middle of the street. Horns blared.
I kept watching in the rear-view mirror. Grace turned and ran to the sidewalk, and off in the opposite direction.
We drove along. “Who was that?”
“Nobody. Forget it. A nutty girl I knew once.”
I looked at her. She was sitting very straight and prim, with her skirt pulled down over her knees, knees together, looking out of the windshield. The white leather bag was between us on the seat, I let my hand touch it and the back of my neck got cold.
“Everything go all right?” I said.
I didn’t want to scare her yet. She didn’t say anything.
I turned and said, “She’s a damned fool woman who refuses to leave me alone.” My voice rose. “She just happened along on the street. I couldn’t get rid of her.” I began to shout. “Good Christ, Shirley. I didn’t want her around, I knew her once a long time ago. Long before I met you. She won’t let me be!”
My ears rang. She didn’t say a word.
“Shirley,” I said, keeping it down. “I’m sorry she was there. I couldn’t help it. I did everything I could to get rid of her.”
“That is not what I meant,” Shirley said.
We drove along. She didn’t speak.
“Shirley, for Christ’s sake. Shirley?”
She said nothing.
I wanted to stop the car and tear open the shiny white leather bag and look at what was inside.