For laughs, he refused to let Fred Dove remove the red condom.
“That’s mean,” Edie said.
“Well, I’m one mean motherfucker,” Snapper proclaimed. “You don’t believe me, there’s a lady cop in the hospital you should see.”
When he yawned, the misaligned mandible waggled horizontally, then appeared to disengage altogether from his face. He looked like a snake trying to swallow an egg.
Edie said, “What is it you want?”
“You know damn well.” Snapper held the flashlight on Fred Dove’s retreating cock. “Where’d you find a red rubber?” he asked. “Mail order, I bet. Looks like a Santy Claushat.”
From the floor, the insurance man gave a disconsolate whimper. Edie leaned her head against the small of his back. Snapper had positioned them butt-to-butt, binding their hands with a curtain sash. In Fred Dove’s briefcase Snapper found the business cards and policy folders from Midwest Casualty. From that it was easy to figure out-Edie on her knees, and so on. Snapper marveled at the exquisite timing of his entrance.
He said, “Fair is fair. A three-way split.”
“But you took off!” Edie objected. “You left me here with that asshole Tony.”
Snapper shrugged. “I changed my mind. I’m allowed. So how much money we talkin’ about?”
“Fuck you,” said Edie Marsh.
Without leaving the recliner, Snapper cocked one leg and kicked her in the side of the head. The sound of the blow was sickening. Edie moaned but didn’t cry.
“For God’s sake.” Fred Dove’s voice cracked, as if he were the one who’d been clobbered.
Snapper said, “Then tell me how much.”
“Don’t you dare.” Edie was woozy, but sharply she dug both elbows into Fred Dove’s ribs.
“I’m waiting,” said Snapper.
Edie felt the insurance man stiffen against the ropes. Then she heard him say: “A hundred forty-one thousand dollars.”
“Moron! “Edie hissed.
“But you won’t get a dime,” Fred Dove warned Snapper, “without me and Edie.”
“That a fact?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Not a goddamn cent,” Edie agreed, “because guess who’s getting the settlement check. Missus Neria Torres. Me.”
Snapper aimed the flashlight on Edie’s face, which bore a puffy salmon imprint of his shoe. “Sweetie,” he said, “it’s hard to sign a check if you’re in a body cast. Understand?”
She turned away from the harsh light and silently cursed her lousy taste in convicts.
Fred Dove said to Snapper: “You ought to untie us.”
“Well, listen to Santy Claus!”
Edie’s pulse jackhammered in her temples. “You know what it is, Fred? Snapper’s jealous. See, it’s not about the insurance money. It’s that I was going to make love to you-”
“Haw!” Snapper exclaimed.
“-and he knows,” Edie went on, “he knows I wouldn’t do it with him for all the money in Fort Knox!”
Snapper laughed. Nudging Fred Dove with a toe, he said, “Don’t kid yourself, bubba. She’d fuck a syphilitic porky-pine, she thought there was a dollar in it.”
“Nice talk,” Edie said. God Almighty, her head hurt.
The insurance man fought to steady his nerves. He was flabbergasted to find himself in the middle of something so ugly, complicated and dangerous. Only hours ago the arrangement seemed foolproof and exciting: a modestly fraudulent claim, a beautiful and uninhibited co-conspirator, a wild fling in an abandoned hurricane house.
A bright-red condom seemed appropriate.
Then out of nowhere appeared this Snapper person, a hard-looking sort and an authentic criminal, judging by what Fred Dove had seen and heard. The insurance man didn’t want such a violent character for a third partner. On the other hand, he didn’t want to die or be harmed seriously enough to require hospitalization. Blue Cross would demand facts, as would Fred Dove’s wife.
So he offered Snapper forty-seven thousand dollars. “That’s how it splits three ways.”
Snapper swung the flashlight to Fred Dove’s face. He said, “You figured that up in your head? No pencil and paper, that’s pretty good.”
Yeah, thought Edie Marsh. Thank you, Dr Einstein.
Fred Dove said to Snapper: “Do we have a deal?”
“Fair is fair.” He rose from the BarcaLounger and made his way to the garage. Within moments the portable generator belched to life. Snapper returned to the living room and turned on the solitary lightbulb. Then, kneeling beside Fred Dove and Edie Marsh, he cut the curtain sash off their wrists.