He was hot and sweaty and wondered about his breath. 'I better not.'
'Come on,' Virginia said.
She sat in his lap and brushed her mouth against his. It was clumsy at first until she zeroed in on him and locked her lips on his, and stuck her tongue in his mouth. He noticed her eyes were closed. The kiss lasted about ten seconds. Then she pulled away and looked at his face.
'You're a good kisser,' Virginia said.
O'Clair was thinking, I am?
'Want to hang out sometime?'
'What do you mean?' O'Clair said.
'You know,' Virginia said, 'go to a bar or a club, hang out.'
'That'd be nice,' O'Clair said.
'What's your number?'
'What do you want my number for?' O'Clair said.
Virginia said, 'Why do you think? So I can call you.'
He checked his shirt pocket for something to write on and pulled out a business card that said, Bobby Gal, Sales Consultant, Tad Collins Buick-Lexus. 'Do you have a pen?'
She got off him and went to the counter and got a pen and gave it to him. He wrote his number on the back of the card and handed it to Virginia. He got up and held her hands and looked her in the eye and said, 'I'm going to ask you one more time. Know where your sister's at?'
She smiled at him and said, 'And I'm going to answer you one more time. No, I honestly do not.'
'Would you tell me if you did?'
'Yes,' Virginia said, 'because I believe you'd help her.'
It sounded like she was telling the truth the way she said it. 'I better go.'
She walked him to the front door and kissed him again.
'Take it easy,' O'Clair said.
'Yeah, you too.'
He thought about her as he walked to the car, imagined her in a bikini, bringing him a beer while he cleaned the pool. O'Clair barefoot in a pair of Bermuda shorts, working the long handle of the skimmer. Or better yet, Virginia would do the cleaning. He'd watch her from a lounge chair, drinking a beer. He liked looking at her. He could sit there all day and look at her.
Tariq watched the man exit from the house twenty minutes later. He watched the Cadillac drive down the street and disappear. Five minutes after that a light appeared in a second floor window. Omar saw it and pointed.
He said, 'You see?'
'Yes,' Tariq said. 'I see.' He was thinking about the money, Ricky instructing him: call me, update me, keep me posted. But what did Tariq have to update? Did he know the whereabouts of Karen Delaney? No. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard again. The time was 1:48 a.m. He glanced at the house and saw the light turn off. Omar looked at him and Tariq nodded.
They exited from the vehicle, closing the doors as quietly as possible. They walked to the house. The air was still hot, the street dark and quiet. They moved along the side of the house to the rear. There was a door with four glass panels. He peered in and saw a stove and refrigerator. Tariq tried turning the door handle, it was locked.
Omar had another idea. Occasionally, Omar would surprise him. He was ten feet away, removing a window screen with his knife. He stood on a patio chair and hoisted himself up and through the window and less than one minute later he unlocked the door for Tariq. They crept through the house to the front door. He was looking up the stairs ready to move when he heard a phone ring and stood there quietly. The phone was ringing. It rang five times before stopping. He could hear a woman's voice talking in the upper level of the house.
They waited until it was quiet again and started up.
Chapter Thirty-three
Virginia said, 'Do you have any idea what time it is? I was sound asleep.'
'I just wanted to make sure you were all right,' Karen said, looking out at the skyline of Chicago.
'Where are you?' Virginia said.
'In a safe place.' She picked up her drink, sipped Stoli on the rocks, her second, trying to relax. 'How's Mother?'
'That little blonde killed Fly.'
'What're you talking about?'
'Fly and O'Clair showed up while you were gone. Fly's dead.'
'My God,' Karen said. She was confused. What were Fly and O'Clair doing there?
'I loved him,' Virginia said.
'You were afraid of him,' Karen said. 'And now you're better off without him.' She decided to tell it straight, not sugarcoat it.
'You should talk,' Virginia said, anger in her voice. 'The winners you've been involved with.'
It was true. Karen's taste in men was as bad as her sister's. Maybe worse. 'Tell me how Mother is.'
'You brought some excitement to her life,' Virginia said. 'To say the least.'
'Is she all right?' Karen walked across the room and sat on the bed.
'It depends what you mean by all right,' Virginia said.
Karen said, 'What do you think I mean?'
'Well she's not hyperventilating anymore,' Virginia said.
'What…?'
'She was breathing into a paper bag,' Virginia said. 'That's what can happen when someone gets shot right before your eyes.'
'I tried calling her,' Karen said. 'Where is she?'
'Aunt Jean came and picked her up,' Virginia said. 'She didn't want to be in the house alone after what happened. Can you blame her?'
'I'm sorry, I tried to keep you out of it,' Karen said. She could see cars ten stories below, cruising along Lake Shore Drive.
'Mom's worried about you.'
'I'm worried about me too,' Karen said. She'd have to talk to her mother and try to explain things.
Virginia said, 'You going to tell me where you're at?'
'Chicago,' Karen said. 'If two Arabs in barber shirts show up looking for me, tell them I left the country.'
Virginia said, 'Are you really going to?'
'Yeah, but I need my passport,' Karen said. 'Will you try to find it and send it to me?'
'It's the middle of the night,' Virginia said.
'Not now,' Karen said, 'in the morning. FedEx it overnight Priority. Send it to-'
'Wait a minute,' Virginia said. 'You think I sleep with a pen in my hand?'
Karen heard her put the phone down, and heard her open a drawer and rattle what was inside.
'Okay,' Virginia said back on the phone.
'Drake Hotel, 140 East Walton, Chicago, 60611. I'll send you some money. I'm sorry I woke you,' Karen said and hung up.
It was strange Karen was waiting for the passport again, like the passport was bad luck, a bad omen-holding her here, preventing her from leaving. She looked at the clock on the bedside table. It was 1:20 a.m., Chicago time. She'd stopped at a twenty-four-hour Walgreens on the way to the hotel and bought a Clairol Nice 'n Easy hair coloring kit, chestnut medium brown. Karen knew she had to do something. Her hair was like a neon sign. She went in the bathroom and opened the box and read the directions, which were in English and Spanish. She had never colored her hair. Why would she?
