The two men who'd been in on the holdups were sitting at the table, still wearing their clown suits, counting the money.
"That's five thousand here," one of them said.
High Munchkin voice, wearing glasses, brown eyes intent behind them. His name was Willie. In the circus, he was billed as Wee Willie Winkie. Next month, he'd be down in Venice, Florida, rehearsing for the season. Tonight he was helping to stack and count the money from four stickups mdash;well,three actually, since they hadn't got anything but cops on the last one. The stickups had been Forbes' idea, but Corky was the one who talked Willie into going along, said it'd be a good way to pick up some quick off-season change. Corky was his wife, and Alice was her best friend. This made Willie nervous. Alice was the only one who'd shot anyone tonight. The others had all fired their pistols all over the heads of the store owners, the way Forbes had told them to.
"What we should do," Willie said to the other man at the table, "we should both of us count each stack."
His hands were sweating. He was still very nervous about this whole thing. He was sure the police would come breaking in here any minute. All because of Alice. He had never heard of a midget doing time in prison. Or getting the electric chair. He did not want to be the first one in history.
"Can I trust you little crooks to give me a true count?" Forbes asked.
"You can help count it, you want to," the other man at the table said.
He was older than the other midgets, shorter and more delicate than even the women. His name was Oliver. In the circus, he was billed as Oliver Twist. He never understood why. He had red hair and blue eyes, and he was single, which was just the way he wanted it. Oliver was a great ladies' man. Full-sized women loved to pick him up and carry him to bed. Full-sized women considered him too darling for words, and they were never threatened by his tiny erect pecker. Full-sized women were always amazed that they could swallow him to the hilt without gagging. In some ways, being a midget had its benefits.
"Here's another five," Willie said, and slid the stack to Oliver, who began riffling the bills like a casino dealer.
"My rough estimate," Forbes said, "is we took in something like forty thousand."
"I think that's high," Alice said.
Standing at the mirror, putting on her lipstick. Lips puckered to accept the bright red paint, pretty as a little doll. Forbes had tried making her last year when they were playing the Garden in New York. She'd turned him down cold, said he would break her in half, although he knew she was sleeping with half the Flying Dutchmen. Corky watched her intently, as if hoping to pick up some makeup tricks.
"Twelve, thirteen thousand each store," Forbes said, "that's what I figure. Thirty-five, forty thousand dollars."
"There wasn't any thirteen in that store with the lady owner," Oliver said.
He was the one who'd cleaned out the register after Alice shot that lady in the third store. They weren't supposed to talk in the stores, but he'd yelled, "Hold itopen , Alice!," because Alice's hands were trembling, and the bag was shaking as if there was a snake in it trying to get out.
"Mark my words, forty," Forbes said.
"Here's another five," Willie said.
"Fifteen already," Forbes said. "Mark my words."
Turned out, when all was said and done, that there was only thirty-two thousand.
"What'd I tell you?" Alice said.
"Somebody must be skimming," Forbes said, and winked at her.
"What does that come to?" Corky asked. "Five into thirty-two?"
"Something like sixty grand apiece," Oliver said.
"Youwish ," Alice said.
"Six, I mean."
Willie was already doing the long division on a scrap of paper.
"Six-four," he said.
"Which ain't bad for a night's work," Forbes said.
"We should've finished those cops," Alice said idly, blotting her lipstick with a piece of Kleenex. Willie shivered. He looked at his wife. Corky was staring at Alice's mouth, a look of idolatrous adoration on her face. Willie shivered again.
"What I'm gonna do right now," Forbes said, "is get out of this dress, and put on my own clothes, and then I'm gonna go partying. Alice? You wanna come along?"
She looked him up and down as if seeing him for the first time.
Then she shrugged and said, "Sure. Why not?"
She called her mother-in-law the moment she was in the house.
The place felt empty without him.
"Mom," she said. "This is Marie."
Crackling on the line to Atlanta.
"Honey," her mother-in-law said, "this is aterrible connection, can you get the operator to ring it again?"
Terrific, she thought. I'm calling to tell her Frank is dead, and she can't hear me.
"I'll try again," she said, and hung up, and then dialed the operator and asked her to place the call. Her mother-in-law picked up on the second ring.
"How's that?" Marie asked her.
"Oh, much better. I was just about to callyou , this must be psychic." Susan Sebastiani believed in psychic phenomena. Whenever she held a seance in her house, she claimed to converse with Frank's father, who'd been dead and gone for twenty years. Frank's father had been a magician, like his son. "What it is," she said, "I had this terrible premonition that something was wrong. I said to myself, 'Susan, you'd better call the kids.' Are you okay? Is everything all right?"