26

INSIDE THE BIG stone house on the hill, Mickey was saying, “You chopped off his finger because he said no problemo too much? And then you drowned him?”

“I never said that. Do you see his body floating out there?”

“No. Probably because you weighted it down with rocks. You’re losing it, Doc. No, you’ve lost it. We’ve been talking for two hours, and I’ve heard nothing but bullshit.”

“Come on, Mickey.” He was standing behind her in the bedroom where they’d made love yesterday.

Correction, Mickey thought. Where she’d screwed him, trying to stay one step ahead before he screwed her. But she’d given up. There was no winning with Doc. He was clearly over the edge. She was booking while she still could. She dumped the drawerful of lingerie straight into her suitcase.

He said, “You don’t give a shit about Speed. What are you getting on your high horse about?”

Mickey whirled. “What? You want to know what? I’ll tell you, Doc. I spot Speed at the track, a two-bit hustler, he yaks to me about his bucks-up fiancée, the beauty queen, I yak to you, you say you know the guy, we can cozy up, flimflam him, make away with a big stash. Fine. We make the plan. Then you have to, have to, have to, stop and pull the penny ante score at that store. But something’s queer, Doc. Something you don’t come clean on. You’ve got the old lady’s car. Then her grandkid’s up here looking for the car. The next thing I know, the beauty queen says, Fuck you, so now there’s no score. You had to know that, Doc. You had to know Speed couldn’t be trusted to set up a dogfight, so you had to be working some other angle. Something I didn’t know about. Then I walk in, and you’re chopping off Speed’s fingers.”

“Finger. One little finger.”

“And now you’ve got him out there doing some kind of mermaid routine? I don’t buy it, Doc. Because something’s stunk here from the very start. There’s something else been on your mind the whole time, and I don’t know what it is, and furthermore I don’t want to know. I’m out of here.” She slammed the suitcase.

“You’re not going, Mickey.”

“Yes, I am.” And then she whirled, holding her little revolver close in to her body. “Get in the closet, Doc.”

“Mickey.” His tone was warm syrup. She’d heard it lots of times before.

“If you don’t get in the closet, I’ll kill you. And if you give me any trouble, I’ll kill you.”

He walked in the closet. She slammed the door and turned the key.

“And if you start kicking while I’m standing here. I’m shooting you straight through the door.”

Then she pushed and pulled and tugged, thank God she was in such good shape, a huge chest of drawers in front of the door. It was almost as tall as she was and one heavy mother. She figured that way it would be harder for him to kick his way out, he’d bang up against the back of the chest, maybe break his toes. Anyway, it would give her enough of a head start to get the hell out of Dodge.