“Well, that’s part of the problem. I’m not sure.”
“You’re not sure what business you’re in?”
“I work for a guy,” said Billy. “I do what he tells me to do. He isn’t a guy you can ask a lot of questions, not about what business he’s in or anything else.”
“That must make your work very difficult.”
“You think?”
“And how do you feel about that?”
“Worse and worse.”
“That’s why you’re ready for change.”
“You got it.”
Billy knew he should have made his move already, and yet he couldn’t help feeling that this woman might be pretty good at what she did. In some absurd way he’d taken an immediate liking to her. He wanted to talk to her, almost as much as he wanted this to be over. He was also finding it hard to believe that her back was covered in tattoos. He knew it was a dumb thought, but she just didn’t look the type.
“And what’s preventing you from simply quitting your job?” she said.
“I think I won’t be allowed to.”
She looked away, kept her head and eyes down, inviting him to say more.
“My boss is a crook, okay?”
“Okay,” she said, though she didn’t sound as though she thought it was okay at all.
“A real crook. I mean, he isn’t some guy who cheats on his taxes or buys and sells things that fall off the back of a truck. The guy’s … the real deal.”
“And you’ve been assisting him with this?”
“Well, part of it, yeah, but only a really small part. Do you want to know exactly what I’ve been doing?”
“Do you want to tell?”
Billy opened and closed his mouth, but nothing came out.
“You know,” said the doctor, “in the circumstances, it might be better if I don’t know. It might create certain professional difficulties for me.”
“Maybe you could meet my boss,” Billy said, “use some of your counseling on him. I could take you there now.”
“I’m afraid that’s not how this process works.”
The sun had gone down appreciably, so that it now shone from directly behind Billy, turning him into a substantial, gloomy silhouette. Carol Fermor got up and lowered the blind a foot and a half. She didn’t return to her seat.
“Mr. Smith, I’m going to be honest with you, I think I’m out of my depth here. I can see that your situation is very difficult, and your desire for change seems sincere, but I’m not qualified to deal with the situation you find yourself in. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” he said.
Very gently she replied, “Yes, I am, and I’ll give you the name of someone else who I think will be able to help you. He’s a very good man.”
“Somebody else won’t do.”
“That’s simply not true, William.” She turned away from the window and took a couple of steps toward the door. “I’ll pop into the reception area and get his details.”
“No,” said Billy. “I came here for you. You’re the one I want.”
“We’re going to have to wind things up now, I think.”
Billy stood up rapidly, swept past her, placed himself between her and the office door. The look she gave him was a beauty, stern but sympathetic, authoritative, earnest, cautious but unafraid, the look you’d give a dog that had wandered into your backyard: beloved pet or rabid stray?
“Don’t you want to hear about my problems with women?” Billy said.
“No, I don’t. You need to leave now.”
“No, that’s not what I need. Now shut up and listen.”
“This is getting out of hand, Mr. Smith. Step aside.”
“You’re not like the others. They were homeless or strippers or prostitutes, and sure, one was a realtor, but you’re in a different class. Did you just get over it, shrug it off? Or did the tattoos motivate you or some shit like that?”
That really got her attention.
“I think you’re mistaken, William. I think you have the wrong woman.”
“I’d like to believe that,” he said. “Not that it would make any difference. Like I said, this whole thing is a complete fucking mystery to me, and I’ve got a feeling some of it’s a mystery to my boss too, but you’ll see for yourself.”
“You’ve rather eloquently convinced me that I shouldn’t see this boss of yours.”
She clutched her gold pencil, as though she might use it as a weapon, or might crush it between her tense fingers.
“Well, that’s not an option, Doc. Neither of us has a choice about it.”
“We all have choices, William.”
“You know, I really fucking hate it when people call me William.”
It all happened very quickly after that. He hit her just once, nothing fancy, and then she hit him back, which meant that he had to hit her that much harder, which knocked the fight out of her and gave him time to drag her from the office, to his Cadillac.
“I’m sorry I had to do that,” he said, which he knew sounded stupid.
He also realized she’d pull herself together and be ready to fight some more long before they got anywhere near Wrobleski’s compound, and he didn’t want to have to hit her again to subdue her. He really didn’t want to hit anyone anymore. So he settled the issue by bundling her into the trunk of the Cadillac and locking it. He felt sure that other, more elegant solutions must be available, but he couldn’t think of any, and in any case, elegance was pretty low on his list of priorities just then.
28. TRUNK
As Billy Moore drove, he could hear the sounds of muffled banging and screaming from behind him, from inside the trunk of the Cadillac. Fists and feet, and very possibly elbows and knees, and possibly even a head, slammed pointedly and pointlessly against the car’s internal panels. He was glad his car was already a wreck: a man who drove a better vehicle could have gotten really upset about a thing like that. He turned on the radio and found some dull classic rock to drown out the noise. Yes, music had its uses.
Once the car was inside the courtyard, where Wrobleski and Akim were waiting, the improbable double act, the old firm, Billy popped the latch on the trunk, and Dr. Carol Fermor slowly pulled herself out. Now that there was nothing to kick against, she stood quietly, trying hard to exhibit dignity, looking at all three men, making steady eye contact with each. Perhaps it was a professional gaze, thorough, diagnostic, or perhaps she was simply committing their looks to deep memory, anticipating a time when she might take revenge. Billy Moore stared at the ground.
“Who are you people?” Carol Fermor said. “What do you want? How do you think this can possibly end?”
“That’s a lot of questions,” said Wrobleski.
“I’m a respected professional. I have a husband and a family. I’ll be missed. People will be looking for me. I can’t just disappear.”
Wrobleski stroked his scalp distractedly.
“People like you disappear all the time,” he said. “People better than you.”
He made the smallest gesture to indicate that he was bored, that Akim should take this woman out of his sight. She went reluctantly but without too much of a struggle, though Billy reckoned that might have a lot to do with the syringe in Akim’s hand. Wrobleski took an envelope of money from his pocket and held it out to Billy, but Billy turned away, keeping his hands down, in his pockets, spoiling the lines of his new suit.
“I don’t need it,” Billy said.
“What? You’re working pro bono these days?”
“No, Mr. Wrobleski. Have this one on me. I think I’m done.”
“Have you found alternate employment?”
“Well, yeah, I’m trying to run my parking lot, but in any case, I’m the wrong man for the job.”