It surprised him that she smiled. “If that’s the case, then I can get out of here. If you don’t mind, I have to pack now.”
Christy picked his teeth with a blunt thumbnail. “Sweetness, it ain’t quite that easy. George said to me, he said, ‘Christy, you and Diana are two of the best friends I got. I’d be real hurt if you two didn’t team up.’ ”
“He said no such thing!”
“Sweetness, I’d take it bad if you tried to run out. If you ran out, I’d have to go up to that jerk town you come from and see how those kid sisters of yours look. What’s the name of it? Oneonta.”
“You... you dirty—”
“Ah, ah, ah! No bad words, sweetness. George just happened to mention to me where you come from. He wants us to get along.” He smiled placidly and watched the spirit slowly drain out of her. Her mouth went lax and she lowered her head.
“How come,” he said, “you let some guy take the roll?”
Her head snapped up and her eyes narrowed. “How would you know it was some guy? Why not two or three, or even a woman?”
He knew he’d said the wrong thing. It confused him. When he was confused he acquired a dull ache at the crown of his head. It made him angry.
“George told me he thought it was a guy.”
“George never guessed at anything.”
The idea was growing in her mind. He shrugged. “Maybe friend George knows.”
She smiled at him and he didn’t like her smile. “Christy, it wouldn’t be possible that you’re crossing up George? I never thought of that before. He trusts you. Maybe he’s wrong.”
“Come here, sweetness.”
The color drained out of her face. She didn’t move.
“Come here or I’ll come and get you.”
She stood up as though she were eighty years old. She came to him, one slow step after another.
“Closer, sweetness.”
“There’s something wrong in your head,” she whispered. “Something wrong and dirty and twisted and—”
He moved like a cat. He snatched her right wrist in his left hand and pulled her forward down into the smashing, open-handed blow against her jaw. He hit angrily and watched her go backward, her face going blank as she fell. She landed on her left side and rolled over twice, ending up on her face, one arm cramped under her. The fall had torn one shoe off.
Christy sat, breathing hard, waiting for the mist to clear away from his eyes. Then he began to wonder if he’d hit too hard. He watched her narrowly and sighed as he saw the lift of her breathing. He got up, took the key off the bureau and carefully locked her door behind him as he left.
The blue Texas dusk was settling over the land. A lurid and impossible sunset flamed in the west. Christy walked slowly down the main street to the nearest drugstore, warm satisfaction filling him. He bought some chocolates, looked up the tourist court number and shut himself in the phone booth.
He asked for Mr. Brown and the woman said she’d get him to the phone. In a few minutes he heard Shaymen say cautiously, “Brown speaking.”
“Drop the guard, junior. This is that man.”
“You just get in?”
“I’ve been talking to the pigeon. You did good.”
“Thanks.”
“You got it to turn over?”
Shaymen hesitated. “If I feel like it.”
Christy’s throat began to swell. “Look, Shaymen. I steered you into this. You know your fee. Let’s not get coy.”
“Right now I’m in the driver’s seat. If I wanted to cross you all the way, I wouldn’t even be here. And the phone is no place to talk about it.”
“Drive in and pick me up then. In front of the theater.”
“Right away.”
It was almost dark by the time Shaymen pulled up in front of the theater. The door swung open. Christy climbed in and sat back with a sigh. “Just drive out of town aways and park, Shaymen.”
They did not speak again until Shaymen had pulled off the road. He offered Christy a cigarette, used the dash lighter.
Christy chuckled. “I know you can’t cross me on the amount, Shaymen. She had George’s twenty-eight thousand bucks. And I got the second twenty-eight thousand.”
“I don’t like those thousand dollar bills.”
“I’ll handle those. I know a guy. Now why the coy act?”
Shaymen lifted his cigarette slowly to his lips. “You tipped me a week in advance where she’d be staying so I could lift the roll. You tell me a little. But not enough. I’m not a hired man — I told you that before. You want me working, I’ve got to be on the inside. Call it a partnership.”
“You’re a greedy guy, aren’t you? It worked the way I figured. George sent me down with cash to replace what you took off Diana. The purchase has to go through because he needs the merchandise. Even paying double for it, he makes a small profit once the stuff is cut. Four kilograms. That’s a little over a hundred and forty ounces. The retailers have to make their end, you know, but even so George clears fifty-six thousand bucks at least. Plus two times twenty-eight thousand is a hundred and twelve thousand bucks.”
Shaymen started. “Are you going to try to grab the stuff without paying what you brought down?”
“Right. Those boys from across the line are supposed to be rough, but the Mexican government is cracking down on them. George has been busy lining up a new source. I got all the dope on that. So if this source is going to dry up anyway, all we got to do is freeze them out and grab the stuff without paying.”
“How about George? Won’t they let him know they didn’t get paid?”
Christy laughed his high whinnying laugh. “You kill me, Shaymen. This isn’t hit and run. They may try to tell George, but maybe he won’t be around to listen.” Shaymen whistled. “The works, eh?” Christy slapped his shoulder. “You and me are in, kid. We start in with capital of a hundred and twelve thousand, with a brand new source of stuff, with the retailers in line and with George out of the way. Now give me that dough.”
“It’s in a safe place,” Shaymen said. “Let’s just leave it there, huh?”
“I don’t like your attitude, Shaymen.”
Shaymen flipped his cigarette out the window. “I don’t care what you like and what you don’t like. So far we both got twenty-eight thousand apiece. If what you say is right, I think we’ll have fifty-six thousand apiece. That makes a partnership, doesn’t it?”
“I’ve been taking orders too long,” Christy said. “From now on I’m giving orders.”
“If that’s the way you want it, Christy, you can kiss that twenty-eight thousand good-by.”
Christy reached over and clamped his left hand on Shaymen’s closed right fist. He slowly closed his hand. Shaymen made one futile, feeble effort to slam his left fist toward Christy’s face but pain brought it to a faltering stop.
Christy eased off on the pressure and said, “Where’s the money?”
“Damn you, Christy! In my suitcase.” His tone was angry and sullen.
Christy re-applied the pressure. Again Shaymen screamed, falling forward across the wheel, half-fainting, his weight against the horn ring. Christy pushed him back and blare of the horn ceased.
“Tell me where,” he demanded softly.
Shaymen was panting as though he had run a long distance. “All right... all right. I’ll... tell you... it’s buried under... third flagstone from the front door of... the tourist court... put it there at night...”
“You tried to lie to me, Shaymen. You tried to be a partner.”
Now the mist was thick in Christy’s eyes. He ground down with all his strength. Shaymen made a damp bleating sound and slumped over against the door.
The mist receded. Christy took a chocolate out of his pocket, picked off the tinfoil and put it in his mouth. He sucked at it.
When his mind was made up, he pulled the dying Shaymen into the passenger’s seat, went around and got behind the wheel. He drove back to Baker and then over toward the river to the Mexican settlement. He found a sagging warehouse without lights, and turned out the car lights as he drove behind it.