Bernie laughed, looked at her, then laughed again, a high, rheumy hoot that ended in a cough.
“I guess that means no,” said Jane. She held out the keys to the car. “You’d better take these now, because I’ve got a plane to catch.”
Bernie drew his hands back and stuck them into his pockets. “I didn’t turn down your deal. Just let me think for a minute. This isn’t the first time I’ve thought about it, either. Once in a while I would say to myself, ‘What I ought to do is screw these guys and give it all away.’ But it’s not easy. It’s a tough thing to do with that much money. It means dreaming up lots of tricks.”
“I saw somebody do something like it once,” said Jane. “I know how hard it is.”
“And you have a way to take care of Vincent?”
“We can offer him a way to be comfortable for the rest of his life without taking any risks. Whether he agrees or not is up to him. It’s the best I can do … or at least, the most I’m willing to do.”
“It would have to come from my money,” he said. “Nothing from them.”
“Of course,” said Jane.
Bernie walked along for a few seconds, thinking. Finally, he shrugged. “It’s probably the best either of us can do.”
“You’ll consider it?”
“You think I’ve got to go through a pile of other offers before I decide?” he asked. “I’ll do it.”
“Good,” said Jane.
“You don’t sound as though you mean it,” said Bernie. “Honey, I think you’ve got to open up just a little more.”
She looked at him. “It’s what I think should happen. It’s not what I want to do. It takes time, and it’s dangerous.”
“Ice cream,” announced Bernie.
“What?”
“Homemade ice cream. You got to crank a machine to get it, it’s got raw eggs so it’s the biggest source of food poisoning. It’s full of fat and sugar, so it’ll give you strokes and heart attacks. If you eat it too fast, you can actually freeze some nerve in your head and go blind.” He smiled. “Tastes good, though.”
Jane smiled back at him. “Tastes very good.”
They turned around and walked back toward the motel. As they came into the hallway, Bernie touched her arm. “Wait. Have you figured out what we do with Rita?”
“That’s something I’ve wondered about since you turned up,” said Jane. “What’s your interest in her?”
Bernie looked down at the carpet. “I guess it’s another crummy thing that happens when you get old. When your body gets soft and weak, your mind does the same thing. You get sentimental about whatever it is that makes people alive. Some skinny little kid who moves quick and doesn’t seem to be affected by gravity is a kind of miracle. She has so much of it that she kind of throws it off around her like heat and light. It kind of kept me going.” He gazed at Jane as though he had not seen her before. “You don’t have any idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Do you know anything about her?”
Jane gave her head a little shake. “She told me some of her story. I knew I didn’t have time for more of it if I was going to get her out of there.”
Bernie said, “She’s not as delicate as she looks. Just the opposite—sort of like a little animal. A raccoon, maybe. Ever try to keep one out of your garden?”
“I’m a big-city girl,” Jane lied. “I buy my vegetables frozen.”
“I had a bodyguard years ago, right after they built my place. He was right from Sicily, and they thought he’d be good because he didn’t know anything. He planted a bunch of grape vines, I guess because he was homesick. But the place was right where a raccoon used to live. The new house doesn’t faze her. She wants those grapes. You put in a fence, she climbs it. You put up a bit of wire on top, she shimmies through. You electrify it, she climbs a big tree nearby and drops into the middle of the vineyard, then digs under to get out. If you put in a moat, she swims it. You stay up all night watching for her, then the second you doze off she’s back. There’s a maddening persistence there, but it’s not stupidity. She just puts up with what she has to, because she’s going to survive, no matter what. She’s going to keep coming at you until you get tired and go away, or you put a bullet into her. Seeing her die would be a shameful thing. Besides, she’s the best friend I’ve had since Sal Augustino.”
It took Jane a second to identify the moment when the raccoon had transformed back into Rita. “Friend?”
“I know,” said Bernie. “It sounds pathetic in a man my age. Living like I did is lonely. She used to take the time to talk to me. Nobody else did. Once in a while when things were slow, I’d get her to play a game of cards. I could tell she wasn’t much interested in cards: too much sitting still for a person like her, I guess, and too much thinking about something that’s pointless. I guess she was lonely too. We’d kind of look out for each other when there were other people around. And she got to go out—you know, shopping for groceries and so on. So I’d use her for my eyes and ears. She’d come back and describe everything she saw and heard out there. Seeing her was like getting a visitor in jail. Until you’ve been there, you don’t know what that is.”
“I understand,” said Jane.
“So what do we do with her? Before we do anything that’s probably going to bring the roof down on our heads, we’ve got to—”
The door beside Bernie’s opened suddenly, and Rita glared at them. “Where have you two been?”
Jane stepped inside and pulled Rita with her. When Bernie had entered, he closed the door behind him. “What are you doing up at this hour?” he asked.
“Looking for you,” said Rita.
“We went for a little walk,” Jane said. “Don’t worry. If we were going to abandon you or something, we wouldn’t be here. Bernie wouldn’t have followed you all the way from Florida, and I wouldn’t have driven half the night to get you here.”
Rita gave her a sullen look. “I fell asleep and everything changed, didn’t it? Now it’s you and Bernie. What are you going to do with me?”
Jane said, “What I had planned to do all along. I’m going to get you some very good identification that says you’re somebody else. Then I’m going to find you a safe, pleasant place to live and try to teach you to be that other person. When I’m satisfied that you’ve learned enough to stay alive, I’m going to leave.”
Rita looked at the floor, then back up at her. “I … I’m sorry. I’d rather go with Bernie.”
“What?”
She looked at Jane apologetically. “I’m sorry. I came to you and begged you to help me. And I know there’s a way you do these things, because Celia told me. I have to do everything you say, as soon as you say it and not even ask any questions. Now you’ve gone to a lot of trouble and taken me all the way here. But I don’t want to go off by myself and hide somewhere. I’d rather go wherever Bernie’s going.”
Bernie looked amazed, and even a little frightened. “Wait, kid. Who invited you? I just didn’t want you on your own without any money. But you won’t be on your own. Jane will help you.”
The girl’s eyes were beginning to well up. “Please, Bernie. I worked for you for a year. You know I won’t be any trouble. I can help you a lot.”
Jane looked at Bernie, waiting. He said, “I’ll tell you the truth. I’ve always tried to seem like this nice old man, but that’s not what I am. The reason I lived in that house is that I worked for the Mafia. I was hiding money for them. They don’t get money from some nice clean enterprise. It came from things like lending somebody’s father a few bucks so they can make him pay ten times that in interest, or they’ll break his legs. Or from taking girls younger than you and forcing them to have sex with twenty strangers a day. You told me your mother was locked up for drugs. There’s a good chance the money from bringing it in came to me.”
“You sound like I’m five years old,” said Rita. “You didn’t do any of those things, any more than I did. You couldn’t have left if you tried.”
Bernie looked at Jane in desperation, so Jane said, “You saw what happened when they heard Bernie was killed. They seem to be tearing the country apart looking for anybody who might know anything. Right now, the only one I know about is you.”
“They’re not looking for Bernie, because he’s dead. And he’s smarter than they are. It said in the paper he
