Clement got up and crossed toward Carolyn. Her extended arm looked pale and naked sticking out of the robe. As he reached her she handed him the check. Clement looked at it.
“This says two hunnert.”
Carolyn called over the railing, downstairs, “Marcie?”
“I said twenty thousand. You left out some oughts.”
Carolyn turned to look at him. “Even if I could write a check in that amount, do you really think I would?”
“Yes, I do,” Clement said. “ ‘Stead of me rolling up your rug or taking your jewelry-sure, I do.”
“But a check-you know I could stop payment as soon as you leave.”
“Then I’d come back, wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t believe this,” Carolyn said. “All I have to do is call the police.”
“Man, it’s hard to get through to some people,” Clement said. “Where’s your bathroom?”
Carolyn hesitated, then gestured with her hand, a vague motion. “Right there. The first door.” She turned with her back to the railing for Clement to go past, then tried to pull away as he took her by the arm.
“Let’s me and you go toidy.”
“Now wait a minute-” Clement’s fingers dug into her upper arm and she called out, “Marcie!”
“She’s locked in the pantry.” Clement was moving Carolyn along now. “I told you she was arguing with me. People argue-you’re a lawyer-you got to make your point or shut ’em up, huh?” He pushed Carolyn into the bathroom and swung the door closed behind them, looking around. “Man, this is some biffy; you could have a party in here… big stall shower… I like a tub-bath myself, but this’ll do fine. Take your robe off.”
“Clement?” Carolyn began.
“What?”
“Whatever you’re doing…” She tried a sincere expression with a slight smile. “Can I offer you a little advice?”
“How much’s the retainer?”
“No, this is free. Whatever you have in mind”-slowly, with a soft lilt to her voice-“I think you should consider very carefully the position you’re in.” Clement hooked a finger in the ring of the caftan’s zipper. “Clement, be nice, okay?”
“You’d stop payment, huh?” The caftan opened as he pulled down. She tried to hold it closed. He took her two hands and brought them away, standing close, looking into her face.
“I don’t have anywhere near that much,” Carolyn said, still sincere, “so what difference does it make?”
“How much you got?”
“Let’s go look in the checkbook.”
“Take off the robe first.” He let go of her hands.
“Clement, really, if you’ll stop and think for a minute…” His hands slipped inside the rough-cotton garment, moved up her body and felt her elbows come in tightly, her eyes staring into his.
“What you think I’m gonna do to you?… Huh? Tell me.” He moved his thumbs across her breasts. “Hey, your nobs’re sticking out… That feel pretty good? Juuuust brush ’em a little, huh?… They get hard as little rocks.” His right hand moved lightly down her side to her hip, their eyes still holding. “Now what am I gonna do?… That your belly button right there?… My, we don’t have no panties on, do we?” His voice drowsy. “Tell what you think I’m gonna do to you… Huh? Come on…”
Clement drew his right hand out of the caftan, bringing it down past his own hip, curled the hand into a fist and grunted, going up on his toes, as he drove the fist into Carolyn’s stomach.
Once he got her into the shower, the caftan off her shoulders, pinning her arms, Clement gave Carolyn a working over with a few kidney punches and body hooks, a couple of stinging jabs to the face before a right cross drew blood from her nose and mouth and he turned the shower on her. The job was trying to keep her on her feet, glassy-eyed and moaning, Clement doubting she had much air left in her. He gave Carolyn a towel and guided her back to the desk in the window bay, bright with afternoon sunlight. Opening the checkbook, Clement said, “Let’s see now how much you want to give me.”
He looked at himself in the mirrored walls of the first floor, grinned a little at the hotshot grinning back at him and walked out of there with a check for six thousand five hundred dollars in the pocket of his denim jacket, thinking: I believe you stumbled onto something, boy.
It was sure nice out.
There was a guy standing across the street. A young guy in a dark suit.
It was sure easier than going in with a gun. Pick out the right party, impress on the party why they should not call the police, then go to a downtown bank at once and cash the check. See, then if the bank calls the party to verify the check, the party is still seeing life through pain and fear and would say, you bet it’s good-fast.
There were three guys over there now, standing, talking.
Carolyn was probably upstairs looking out the window. Man, but it was a big place. Weird. High picket fence, like spears, all around and a blacktop parking area in the side yard-no grass-like the place had once been a residence, then a commercial establishment of some kind, with its big kitchen and bathroom, then a residence again. His car sat over there all by itself, up against the iron fence.
The three guys across the street, he realized now-looking through the fence at them as he approached his car-were wearing black suits. Dark-haired guys with mustaches and black suits…
Jesus Christ, he had never even seen an Albanian before yesterday. He said to himself, Oh shit-wanting to run for the Montego, but making himself walk, not wanting to get anybody excited just yet, least not until he was behind the car on the driver’s side and could open the door and reach under the seat.
The three guys were coming across the street. They looked like undertakers. They were opening their black suitcoats and reaching inside…
Clement was still five long strides from the car when they drew pistols and began firing at him. He couldn’t believe it. Right out on the street, three guys he’d never seen before in his life shooting at him through the fence, not asking him to wait-up there, find out if he was the party they wanted-Christ, just blazing away at him! Clement got his door open and saw the windows drilled and patterns form at the same time, the windows shattered but held together. He got the Browning from under the seat, edged to the rear curve of the Montego, extended the Browning over the edge of the trunk and, as he saw them through the widely spaced pickets, the three of them coming toward the drive, he began squeezing the trigger, feeling the gun jump, hearing that hard report in his ears, and saw them scatter, running along the fence on the other side of the drive. Clement got in the Montego, backed up, headed toward the rear of the house and almost braked when he saw the chain across the exit drive-thought, What, you don’t want to scratch up your new car?-kept going and tore through those links without even feeling a tug-sailed out hanging a right into the alley and faced another split moment of decision as he saw the end of the alley coming up fast. Turn left, away from the boys in black? Or hang another right and have to drive past the front of the house, where they were presently swarming? To hell with them. He cranked a right… saw the black suits back in the street again, looking this way, then all three of them aiming with both arms extended, like they knew what they were doing. The sound of the shots came as pops, far away, but the windshield blossomed at once in fragmenting circles. Clement floored it right at them. Saw them run for the sidewalk and veered over to jump the curb and sweep along close to the fence. Two of them ducked into the drive, out of the way, while the third set a fence-climbing record, just pulling his legs up as Clement scraped the Montego against the metal pickets, swerved back onto the street and took a couple of more shots in the rear end before he got to Jefferson and turned without stopping into the westbound traffic.