'See the dark green Ford Mustang, front row, parked opposite this room?'
'I do not know Mustang.'
'Green car, tan soft top right there.' I pointed.
The mustang flashed its headlights.
'Yes.'
'Man named Henry Cimoli is driving. He'll take you wherever you want to go.'
'I want to go home.'
'He'll take you there.'
Velvet nodded. She picked up her overnight bag and started out the door.
'Thank you, Kim,' I said.
She turned with a startled look for a moment. Then she nodded seriously and walked toward Henry's car. I watched her get in. And I watched Henry drive her away. Then I went into the motel room and closed the door.
It was the kind of place you'd bring somebody you picked up at the bowling alley. The air conditioning was noisy. The bath was tiled in plastic. The dark stain on the pine bed and bureau set was scarred. The chenille spread on the bed was frayed along the edges and thin from frequent washing. On the bureau was a bar setup: cheap bourbon, ice, a pitcher of water, a shrinkwrapped pack of plastic drinking cups.
Haskell, you elegant fool!
I didn't want Haskell to see me when he opened the door, because I didn't want to have to chase him around the parking lot. I went into the bathroom and waited, It was maybe twenty minutes, but it's a long twenty standing in a small bathroom in a low-rent motel. I was wishing I had to go. It would have given me something to do. I heard the key turn in the front door. The door opened. I heard a step. The door closed. I took my gun out and held it by my side.
Haskell's voice said, 'Velvet.'
He sounded annoyed. But Haskell always sounded annoyed. Probably was always annoyed. I came out of the bathroom. Haskell had no reaction. He squinted at me for a moment. I stepped between him and the door. He noticed.
'Where's Velvet,' he said.
'Not today.'
'I know you,' he said.
'Yes you do.'
'What the fuck are you doing here?'
He scratched absently his chest with his right hand. He scratched a little lower on his stomach. I showed him the gun. He stopped.
'Turn around,' I said. 'Put your hands behind your head. Lace your fingers.'
'This a fucking roust, or what?' he said as he turned.
He looked like he'd assumed the position before. I kept my gun in my right hand as I patted him down. He had a gun on his belt, left side, butt forward. I unsnapped the guard strap and took the gun off him and stepped back.
'Okay,' I said. 'You can turn around and put your hands down.'
Haskell turned and dropped his hands. I put my own gun back on my belt.
'So what do you need,' he said.
If he was scared, he was doing a masterful job of covering it. He probably wasn't scared. Being scared would have been too human for Haskell. He was probably too mean and too shallow to be scared.
The gun I'd taken from him was a cheap semi-automatic I'd never heard of. I took out the magazine, ejected a round from the chamber, dropped the gun and magazine on the floor, and kicked the gun under the bed. I was still between Haskell and the door.
'I don't know what the game is,' Haskell said, 'but you are getting yourself in deeper, pal.'
Haskell was probably wearing different clothes than he had the last time I saw him, but he looked just the same. Haskell would always look pretty much the same.
'You broke the rules,' I said.
'What rules?'
'You don't take it home,' I said. 'You don't involve family.'
'What family?'
'Susan Silverman.'
'Who the fuck is she?'
'My family,' I said.
'I don't know what you're talking about.'
Haskell looked momentarily at the window. It was to the right of the door as you come in, one of those fixed
