Donnell said, 'Yeaaah, Robin Abbott,' with a sound of relief. 'That's who it was. Damn, I been trying to think if I knew her. She come up to me I was waiting for the boat. Yeah, shit, Robin Abbott. See, but she didn't say nothing to me, who she was.'
'Didn't remember you, either.'
Donnell gave him a look with the heavy lids. Then seemed to smile, just a little. 'I don't know about that.'
'How'd you meet her?'
'Look at Mr. Woody doing his famous aqua-ballet dog paddle. He has to go down the shallow end to get out.'
'You meet Robin through Mark?'
'Right here in this house.'
'What was she into?'
'What they were doing then, grooving on weed and shit. I'd see her on the street now and then, she was living by Wayne with this dude had a ponytail. I remember him good. They all had the hair. You know, that was the thing then, the hair. She had different hair, real long down her back. . . . I think she knew who I was at the boat but didn't say nothing. There was something happened to her I'm trying to remember. Like she got busted and took off. . . .' Donnell paused.
Chris waited, watching the fat naked man rise in the shallow end of the pool, the water at his belly, and blow his nose in his hand.
Donnell said, 'Oh, you sneaky. We talking about the bomb, now you have us back on the other conversation. You looking for somebody was here Saturday could be a witness, huh? Testify against Mr. Woody.'
'Robin Abbott,' Chris said.
'And that's all you get.'
'What was she arrested for?'
'I never said she was.'
'You know where she lives?'
'You have all I'm saying, for whatever good you think it's gonna do you.' Donnell turned to the pool and raised his voice. 'Mr. Woody, look who come to see you. It's the man had you busted.'
Woody was out of the water on the other side of the pool, wiping his face with a towel.
Chris called out, 'I brought you some peanuts,' and heard his voice filling the room.
Now Donnell called to him, 'See what he's doing, Mr. Woody? Wants to get on your good side.'
Chris watched the fat man raise one arm, turn and enter a door with a frosted-glass window.
'Where's he going?'
'Have a cold shower, wake him up. He'll be out in a minute, start his cocktail hour.'
Chris felt himself perspiring. 'Why does he keep it so hot in here?'
'The way he likes it. The ladies get hot, take their clothes off and jump in the water. Like your friend I told you, Ginger.'
'You go in with them?'
'Getting all wet's never been one of my pleasures.'
Chris reached behind Donnell with one hand and gave him a shove. It didn't take much. Donnell yelled 'Hey!' off balance, waved his arms in the air, hit the water and went under. Chris hunched over, hands on his knees. He watched Donnell's head come up, saw his eyes, his chin pointing, straining, the look of panic, arms fighting the water.
Chris said, 'You don't know how to swim, do you? That can happen you grow up in the projects, never get a chance to learn. Some guys turn to crime.'
Donnell reached the side of the pool and got his arms up over the edge to hang there gasping. Chris studied the man's glistening hair, the neat part, waiting until he calmed down and was quiet.
'How much you offering Miss Wyatt?'
Donnell wiped his hand across his face. He looked up, then tried to press against the tile as Chris placed his foot on Donnell's head.
'I didn't hear you.'
'Five thousand.'
Chris said, 'Let me give you a hand.'
He was thinking that seeing a guy naked could give you an entirely different impression than seeing him with clothes on. Woody was one of those fat guys who hardly had an ass on him. Why didn't any of the fat go there? He had milk-white legs and walked like his balls were sore, coming around from the other side of the pool now in a terrycloth robe, taking forever, his curly hair still wet, face tomatoed out. He had little fat feet, pink ones. Chris could see what Woody looked like when he was a kid. He could see other kids pushing him into swimming pools. He could see kids choosing up sides to play some game and picking Woody last. He could see little Woody sneaking off by himself to eat candy bars. That type. A kid who slept with the light on and wet the bed a lot. Though he probably wet it more now, with the booze, than he did then. Chris usually felt sorry for quiet boozers who didn't cause any trouble. He felt a little sorry for Woody, the type of guy he could see Woody really was. With a stupid grin now eyeing the bait, the can of peanuts sitting open on the poolside table. He didn't look at Chris, seated in the deck chair, hands folded, patient. He looked at the peanuts and then went over to the bar and poured a lot of scotch into a glass with one ice cube, Chris waiting for him to ask if he wanted anything. But he didn't. That was okay. Chris watched him fooling with the stereo now until the score from My Fair Lady came blasting out of the speakers and he turned the volume down. Good. Woody came over to the table and helped himself to peanuts before looking at Chris. Or he might've been looking past him, Chris wasn't sure. Woody's eyes didn't seem to focus.
He said, 'Oh my. Oh my oh my. Yeah, I remember. You're the guy that put me in jail, aren't you? I remember you now, sure.'
Woody seemed to be thinking as he spoke, hardly moving his mouth. It wasn't that he slurred the words, he sounded like a guy who'd been hit in the head and was in a daze. He moved like it, too, off balance as he pulled a chair out from the table and sat down.
'Oh my oh me,' Woody said. 'Life's too short, you know it? I'm not gonna be mad at you. Fuck it.'
'Well, I'm mad at you,' Chris said.
'For what?'
'I don't have a job. I got suspended.'
'What're you mad at me for? I didn't do it.'
'Who did, your lawyer? It's the same thing.'
'Noooo, I didn't do it. Ask Donnell, he'll tell you.' Woody looked up at the ceiling and called out, 'Donnell! . . . Where are you, boy?'
'He fell in the pool.'
Woody's gaze lowered to Chris, squinting now, thinking it over, then looked at the pool. 'He's in the water? I don't think he knows how to swim.'
'He's changing his clothes,' Chris said. 'He was telling me you don't want to go to court on the sexual assault complaint.'
'The what?' Woody had a mouthful of peanuts now, chewing, working his tongue around in there.
'The rape charge you're gonna be tried for.'
'I didn't rape anybody. I thought that was taken care of. Wait a minute. . . . Donnell!'
'Is he handling it for you?'
'Lemme think,' Woody said. He picked up his glass and swallowed about an ounce of scotch. 'I get confused sometimes, everything that's been happening. My brother passed away. . . .' Woody paused, squinting at Chris or past him. 'Jesus, you know something? I think it was today. . . . Yeah, it was, my younger brother.' He stopped again and seemed to be listening now and said, 'My Fair Lady. You know who that is?'
'Mr. Ricks,' Chris said, 'you made an offer to a young lady, or you plan to, so she won't sign a complaint against you. On the rape charge we're talking about.'
Woody was nodding now. 'Oh, yeah, that's right.'
'I'm a friend of hers.'
'Oh, I didn't know that. You're talking about Ginger. No, I didn't rape her. She was in my bedroom, didn't
