Stone Quarry

The air as we crossed to the decrepit porch was sharp, bringing on it the scents of pine and water; but that was only outside. I saw Lydia's nose wrinkle with distaste as we walked through the door.

Grice stood in the living room opening. 'Well,' he said. 'It's about time. Nice of you to come, Smith.'

'I've been looking for you. You didn't need this.'

'Yeah, I heard you wanted to see me. I didn't like the way you put it.'

'How'd I put it?'

He shrugged, smirked at Lydia. 'Who's this?'

'A friend of mine.'

'She got a name?'

'Lydia Chin,' said Lydia, looking steadily at Grice.

'Cute,' Grice said. He reached to touch her cheek. She slammed his hand aside. Her eyes blazed. 'Grice!' I said sharply. My arms tugged uselessly against the cuffs. 'You want to deal, leave her alone.'

Grice stopped, open mouthed, eyes on Lydia. Then he laughed. 'Well,' he said, 'maybe later.' He looked at me. 'Deal? I don't think so.' Smiling, he asked Otis, 'Where'd you find them?'

'We was lucky,' Otis said. 'When we was crossing the bridge, Ted spotted that fancy car of his going into the Appleseed lot. We sat and waited till they come out.'

Grice whipped to face me. 'You talked to Sanderson?'

'Yes.'

He started to say something else, but recovered himself. Turning to Otis and Ted, he said casually, 'Thanks, boys. Make yourselves scarce for a while. I'll let you know.' Ted gave a mock military salute, headed to the kitchen. He lifted a six-pack of Miller from the fridge, clomped behind Otis up the stairs.

Grice waited until we heard the canned laughter of daytime TV drifting down after them. Then he looked at me, asked softly, 'Did you tell him?'

'No. I didn't know. I didn't catch on until about ten minutes ago, on the way here.'

He looked at me strangely. 'Bullshit. You told Mike you knew, at the Creekside. You told everyone. Why do you think Arnold tried to take you out last night?'

At the Creekside. What had I said? I thought back, seeing the hostile faces, smelling the dull air, hearing my words.

'That wasn't my idea, by the way,' Grice went on. 'I was busy last night.' He winked at Lydia. 'So Arnold had to decide what to do about you, and Arnold gets a little carried away sometimes.'

Arnold, who'd settled on one of the shabby brown chairs, smiled sheepishly.

'I figured that's why no one's found her yet,' Grice went on. 'Because you and that painter lady, or whatever she is, were going to try to shake me down.' He grinned.

'No,' I said. 'That's not why. Eve doesn't know anything about it. And I didn't have it at the Creekside, Grice. I knew Ginny was with you. I knew she had the paintings and the truck. That was all I knew.'

'You're kidding.' His crooked mouth pursed. 'Christ, you disappoint me, Smith.' He shook his head in mock sorrow, spoke to Arnold. 'See? I told you we could afford to back off. Plus, of course,' he added, to me, 'you're not worth as much to me dead, yet.'

'You set Jimmy up for it, didn't you?' I said. 'Like with Wally Gould? That was your frame, even though you didn't kill him, right?'

Grice laughed out loud. 'Maybe you're not so dumb.

That was good, wasn't it? Quick thinking in a crisis, I mean.'

'Any idiot would have thought of it. What was she doing, just showing off?'

'Uh-huh.' He took a cigarette case from his pocket, opened it. Arnold jumped up, did the number with his lighter. 'Give one to Smith,' Grice told him. 'He looks like he needs it.'

I did need it. Arnold lit a cigarette, held it about six inches from me, grinning. Finally he stuck it in my mouth. I drew deep on it with the resentful gratitude of any addict who's waited too long for a fix.

Grice perched on the arm of Arnold's chair. 'Sit down,' he offered.

'I'll stand.'

'Ma'am?' courteously, to Lydia.

'Go to hell,' Lydia said.

Grice winked at her again. He went on: 'Ginny thought I'd be impressed by the paintings. They were worth a cool million, she said. She talked like that. A cool million.' Shit.' He shook his head, laughing. 'She wanted me to fence them for her.' He mimicked a prim young voice. ''We're gonna be rich, Frank. You and me!''

'But you couldn't fence them, so they weren't worth anything.'

'Sure I can. There's nothing can't be fenced. But that kind of shit takes time. I mean, years. She didn't want to wait.'

'And you didn't want her trying it on her own.'

'She was a fucking idiot. She couldn't keep her goddamn head down pushing nickel bags at Pussy Prep.'

'And you couldn't afford for her to get caught. That would've screwed up your deal with Sanderson, if she'd