The gun in his hand encouraged compliance. I certainly wasn’t going to argue. Laura rose slowly, not looking at him. She let out a breath with an audible sound and tears ran down her cheeks. She’d brought this down on us with every poor choice she’d made. She’d taken the risk and now the rest of us would pay. I saw everyone in the room with such clarity: Ray had his jacket on, his car keys in hand. He’d managed to hustle his mother into her coat. She stood close to her place at the table, hands up, bundled up in her woollies like a kid on a snowy day. Five minutes more and we might have been gone. Gilbert must have been eavesdropping for some time, of course, so it probably didn’t matter. The fact that all of us now had our hands in the air gave the scene a slightly comical air. It looked as if we’d been caught in the middle of a spiritual, with our hands waving toward heaven. In a western, somebody would have jumped Gilbert and grappled for the gun. Not here. I kept my gaze pinned on his face, trying to gauge his intent. Helen’s gaze wandered the room, eyes unfocused, settling nowhere, roaming across the gray haze with its motionless dark shapes. I thought she’d be confused or upset, but she said nothing, sensing perhaps that the situation wouldn’t be served by questions. She did quiver almost imperceptibly, the way a dog trembles standing on the groomer’s table.
The air still smelled of fried pork chops and milk gravy. The remnants of the meal remained on the plates, cooking pots piled in the kitchen sink. Maybe Freida Green would come in and clean up in a few days … after the crime scene tape had been removed and the premises unsealed.
Gilbert held the gun in his right hand, using his left to reach into his jacket pocket. He took out a roll of duct tape. “Here’s what let’s do,” he said conversationally. “Ray, why don’t you just take a seat in that chair. Laura here is going to wrap you up in duct tape. Hey, hey, hey, babe.
Goddamn it. Quit with the crying. Nothing’s happened yet. I’m just trying to keep everything under control. I don’t want anybody jumping out at me. Don’t want this gun going off or somebody might get hurt. Grammy’s not going to look so hot with a hole in her head, brains all spilling out, Ray with a big old hole in his chest. Come on, now. Help out, just to show you still care.”
He tossed the roll of silver duct tape to Laura, who caught it on the fly. She seemed frozen, standing immobile as the seconds went by. “Gilbert, I beg you —”
“Tape him up!”
I flinched at his sudden screaming. Laura didn’t bat an eye, but I noticed she was now in motion, crossing the room to Ray. Slowly, hands still lifted, Ray eased himself into the chair Gilbert had indicated. Laura was weeping so hard I’m not even sure she could see what she was doing. Tears washed the makeup from her cheeks, exposing the old bruises like an undercoat of paint. Tendrils of red hair had come loose, trailing around her face.
Gilbert’s focus moved to Ray. “Make any trouble, I’ll kill her,” he said.
Ray said, “Don’t do that. Be cool. I’ll cooperate.”
Gilbert flicked a look at me. “Why don’t you pass me the keys? I’d appreciate it,” he said.
I reached for the keys still sitting on the kitchen table. I hated to let go of them, but I couldn’t think what else to do. I placed them in Gilbert’s left palm. He glanced at them briefly and then tucked them in his jacket pocket.
Ray said, “Listen, Gilbert. This is an old score. It’s got nothing to do with these three. You can do anything you want with me, but keep them out of it.”
“I know I can do anything I want. I’m already doing it. I don’t care about them two, the old bag and this one,” he said, indicating me. “But I got accounts to settle with her. She ran out on me.” He looked over at her, frowning. “Could you get busy with that tape like I said?”
“Gilbert, please don’t do this. Please.”
“Would you knock it off? I’m not doing anything,” he said peevishly. “What am I doing? I’m just standing here talking to your dad. Go on now and do what I told you. Ray’s not going to pull any funny business.”
“Can’t we just leave? Get in the car and go, just the two of us?”
“You’re not done. You haven’t even started” Gilbert said. He was beginning to sound exasperated, not a good sign.
Ray’s expression was soft, looking at Laura. “It’s okay, hon. Go ahead and do what he says. Let’s see if we can keep everybody on an even keel here.”
Gilbert smiled. “My thoughts exactly. Everybody take it easy. I want his ankles taped to the chair legs. And let’s get his hands behind him, bind ’em up nice. I’m going to check on you, so don’t you be thinking you can pretend to tape him up and then not do it right. I hate when people try to fool me. You know how I am. Blow your nose and quit sniveling.”
Laura fumbled in her pocket, took out a tissue, and did as he said. She tucked the tissue away and pulled out a strip of tape, the adhesive making a ripping sound as she tore it loose. She began to wrap the tape around Ray’s right ankle, first folding his pant leg against his shin, then threading the tape around the chair leg in several layers.
“I want that tight. You don’t get it tight enough, I’m going to shoot him in the leg.”
“I am!” She flashed a look at Gilbert, and for a moment there was pure fury in her eyes instead of fear.
He seemed to like it that he’d gotten a rise out of her. A slight smile crossed his face. “What’s that look for?”
“Where’s Farley?” she said darkly.
“Oh, him. I left him in California. What a worthless sack of shit he turned into. All the mewling and pissing. I really hate that stuff. Here’s the long and short of it: The man ratted you out. It’s the truth. He gave you up. Farley told me everything, trying to save his own skin. I do not admire that. I think it sucks.” He edged over to the chair where Ray was sitting. He kept a close eye on all of us, making sure no one moved while he squatted by the chair and checked the tape. He got up, apparently satisfied with the job she was doing. “When you get done with him, you can do her,” he said, meaning me.
She ripped off another length of tape and began to secure Ray’s left leg to the chair rung. “What’d you do to him?” she asked.
Gilbert stood upright again, backing off two steps. “What I did? We’re not talking about what I did. I didn’t do anything. It’s what you did. You betrayed me, babe. How many times I told you about that? You just never learn, do you? I try — God knows I try — to let you know what I expect.”
“Farley’s dead?”
“Yes, he is,” Gilbert said solemnly. “I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you.”
“He was your nephew. Your own flesh and blood.”
“What’s that got to do with it? That doesn’t cut any ice. Flesh and blood don’t mean bullshit. It’s about loyalty. Is that simple concept so hard for you to grasp? Listen, I want to tell you something. You can’t blame this on me. Anybody gets hurt, it’s on your head, not mine. How many times I told you, you have to do what I say. You’re not going to obey me, then I can’t be responsible.”
“I’m doing what you said. In what way am I not doing what you said?”
“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the money. I’m talking about Rio. Now see? Right there. You didn’t fly to Rio like you were supposed to, and look what went wrong as a consequence of your behavior. Farley … well, never mind. I think we said enough about him.”
Helen spoke up. Like me, she’d been standing there doggedly with her hands in the air. “Young man. I wonder if I could take this coat off and set down.”
Gilbert frowned, irritated at the interruption. It was clear he enjoyed getting all worked up, feeling righteous, expounding on the many ways someone else was at fault. Helen wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was fixed at a point to his right, where she was obviously mistaking the doorjamb for him. Gilbert was momentarily distracted, amused by her mistake. He waved his arms. “Hey, over here, sweetheart. You must not see all that good. You’ve mistook me for a coat rack.”