Ray’s mouth pulled down. “I guess you’d say that. So here’s the deal. We call the cops, they’ll run a check on me and back I go. Big time.”
“You’d risk your daughter’s life just to avoid going back to jail?”
“It’s not just that.”
“Then what?”
He turned and looked at me, his hazel eyes as clear as water. “How’m I going to deal with Gilbert if I got a bunch of cops on the scene?”
“Ray, you gotta trust me. It’s not worth it. You’ll be locked up for the rest of your life.”
“What rest? I’m sixty-five years old. How much time do I have?”
“Don’t be dumb. You got years. Take a look at your mom. You’re going to live to be a hundred. Don’t blow this.”
“Kinsey, listen up. Here’s the truth,” he said. “We call the cops, you know what’s going to happen? We go down to the jail. We fill out paperwork. They ask us a bunch of questions I don’t want to answer. Either they run a check on me or they don’t. If they run a check, I’m history and that’s the end of her. If they don’t run a check, what difference does it make? We’re still fucked. Hours are going to pass, and then what? It’ll turn out the cops can’t do shit. Oh, too bad. So now we’re out on the street again and we still don’t have a clue where the money’s hid. Believe me. When Gilbert catches up with us, he don’t want to hear excuses. And what are we going to say? ‘Sorry we didn’t find the money yet. We got tied up at the precinct and time got away from us.'”
I said, “Tell him you’re working on it. Tell him you have the money and want to meet him somewhere. The cops can pick him up.”
Ray’s expression was bored. “You been watching too much TV. Truth is, half the time when the cops get involved, they fuck it up. Perpetrator gets caught and the victim dies. You know what happens next? Big trial. Publicity. You get a hotshot lawyer talkin’ about the kidnapper’s troubled youth. How he’s mentally ill and how the victim was abusing him and he only did the kidnap in self-defense. Thousands and thousands of dollars get poured down the drain. The jury ends up hung and the guy takes a walk. Meanwhile, Laura’s dead and I’m back in jail again. So who wins? It ain’t me and it’s certainly not her.”
I could feel my temper climb. I tossed the dish towel aside. “You know what? You can do anything you want. This is really not my problem. You don’t want to call the cops. Fine. It’s up to you. I’m out of here.”
“Back to California?”
“If can manage it,” I said. “Of course, now that Gilbert’s got the eight grand, I’m assuming you won’t pay my return ticket like you promised, but that’s neither here nor there. I don’t have enough money for a taxi to the airport, so I’d appreciate a ride. It’s the least you can do.”
His temper rose in response to mine. “Sure. No problem. Let me pull the kitchen together and we’re on our way. Laura dies, it’s on you. You could have helped. You said ‘no.’ You gotta live with that same as I do.”
“Me? This is your doing. I can’t believe you’d try to lay it off on me. You sound just like Gilbert.”
He put a hand out and grabbed mine. “Hey. I need help.” For a moment, we locked eyes. I broke off eye contact. His tone shifted. He tried coaxing. “Let’s brainstorm. The two of us. That’s all I’m asking. You got hours until flight time….”
“What flight? I’ve got reservations, but no ticket, and I’m flat broke.”
“So how’s it going to hurt you to hang out here and help?”
“Well, I’ll tell you,” I said. “It’s two days until Thanksgiving. I’m in a wedding that day, so I have to get back. Two very dear friends are getting married and I’m a bridesmaid, okay? The airports will be jammed with all the holiday traffic. I can’t just call the airlines and pick up any old flight. I was lucky to get this one.”
“But you can’t pay for it,” Ray pointed out.
“I know that!”
He put a finger to his lips and looked significantly toward the bedroom where his mother was sleeping.
“I know I can’t pay. I’m trying to figure that part out,” I said in a hoarse whisper.
Ray took out his money clip. “How much?”
“Five hundred.”
He put the clip back untouched. “I thought you had friends. Somebody willing to lend you the bucks.”
“I do if I can get to the telephone. Your mother’s asleep.”
“She’ll be up in a bit. She’s old. She doesn’t sleep much at night. She takes catnaps instead. Soon as she wakes up, you can put a call through to California. Maybe your friend can put your ticket on a credit card and you can catch that flight. Looka me. I’ll peep in and see how she’s doing. How’s that?” He moved to the bedroom and made a big display of opening the door a crack. “She’ll be out any second now. I promise. I can see her moving around.”
“Oh, right.”
He closed the door again. “Just help me figure out where the money’s hid. Let’s talk about it some. That’s all I want.”
He held a hand out, indicating a seat at the table.
I stared at him. Well, there it was, folks. Altruism and self-interest going head to head. Was I going to take the high road or the low? By now, did I even know which was which? So far, almost everything I’d done was illegal except the vacuuming — breaking into hotel rooms, aiding and abetting escaped felons. Probably even the vacuuming broke some union contract. Why bother to get prissy at this late date? “You are so full of shit,” I said.
He pulled out a chair and I sat. I can’t believe I did that. I should have walked to the corner market and found a pay phone, but what can I say? I was involved with this man, involved with his daughter and his aged, catnapping mother. As if on cue, she emerged from the bedroom, rheumy eyed and energetic. She’d hardly been down fifteen minutes and she was ready to go again. He pulled out a chair for her. “How you doing?”
“I’m fine. I feel much better,” she said. “What’s happening? What are we doing?”
“Trying to figure out where Johnny hid the money,” Ray said. He had apparently confessed all to his mother because she didn’t seem to question the subject matter or his relationship to it. At eighty-five, I guess she wasn’t worried about going to jail. From somewhere, another pen and a pad of paper materialized. “We can make notes. Or I can,” he said when he caught my look. “You probably want to use the phone first. It’s in there.”
“I know where the phone is. I’ll be right back,” I said. I used my credit card to put another call through to Henry. As luck would have it, he was still out. I left a second message on his machine, indicating that my return flight was in question because of cash shortages on my end. I repeated Helen’s phone number, urging him to call me to see if he could work out some way for me to get on the plane as scheduled. While I was at it, I tried the number at Rosie’s, but all that netted me was a busy signal. I went back to the kitchen.
“How’d you do?” Ray asked blandly.
“I left a message for Henry. I’m hoping he’ll call back in the next hour or so.”
“Too bad you didn’t get through to him. I guess there’s no point in going out to the airport until you talk to him.”
I sat down at the table, ignoring his commiseration, which was patently insincere. I said, “Let’s start with the keys.”
Ray made a note on the pad. The note said “keys.” He drew a circle around it, squinting thoughtfully. “What difference does it make about the keys as long as Gilbert’s got ’em?”
“Because they’re just about the only tangible clue we have. Let’s just write down what we remember.”
“Which is what? I don’t remember nothing.”
“Well, one was iron. About six inches long, an old-fashioned skeleton key, a Lawless. The other was a Master….”
“Wait a minute. How’d you know that?”
“Because I looked,” I said. I turned to Helen. “You have a telephone book? I didn’t see one in there, and we’re probably going to need one.”
“It’s in the dresser drawer. Hold on a second. I’ll get it,” Ray said, and got up. He disappeared into the bedroom.