she don't know, it's his problem.'
'I mean after--what if she gets pissed off at him for not doing anything?'
The telephone rang. Louis glanced over at the desk sitting in the bay of windows.
Ordell got up, Halloween masks spilling from his lap. 'Not doing anything? The man paid a million dollars to set her free, ain't he?' He walked over and picked up the phone.
There was something that bothered Louis, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He heard Ordell say, 'Richard'--his voice bright and alive--'How you doing, man? ... Yeah? ... Yeah? You don't tell me...'
Louis kept wondering if the man had told his wife about the money he was putting away and if it made any difference one way or the other. Yes, it was the man's problem, but he kept wondering what could happen if the man's wife got pissed-off at him. She could make an awful lot of trouble for the guy. Ordell had showed him their house, big English-looking place with the dark beams outside, set in concrete that had been stuccoed over. Ordell had also showed him the guy's latest condominium project--about a hundred units going up and the sign saying GRANDVIEW MANOR ESTATES
FAD Designed Homes for as low as $39,995.00
'There's a FAD in Your Future!'
Frank A. Dawson Associates Louis had looked at it and said, 'That's a grand view, all right. Of Chrysler's Mound Road assembly plant.'
The guy, Dawson, had a lot to lose.
'Aw right,' Ordell said, coming away from the phone, clapping his hands together once. 'That was Richard. Richard was out in his black Hornet doing his surveillance he calls it and says the man left the house at 10 P. M. with a suitcase, went out to Metro and got on a Delta flight to Fort Lauderdale, Florida. Like he does every month or so.'
'Richard found all that out?' Louis sounded surprised.
'Richard'll fool you,' Ordell said. 'Only thing different this time, man had his boy with him and his boy had a suitcase. And you know something. That's even better. Leave mama home alone.'
Louis said, 'So you're thinking about tonight? Right now?'
'No, I want to call Mr. Walker first, see if he ain't drunk and his shoes are dry. Make sure of everything,' Ordell said. 'But I don't see nothing wrong with tomorrow.'
Chapter 9
'GIVE US ABOUT AN HOUR,' Ordell said to Richard on the phone. 'We got to pick up something to use ... Richard, we not gonna drive up in the van. We got to get something else, then make a switch. You understand? ... Right, now see, what you do'--Ordell looked at his watch-- 'Richard, you better give us a little more than an hour. Say, call us at between eleven-thirty and quarter to twelve ... Yeah, the number I gave you, the pay phone ... Yeah, that's cool, Richard. We see you later.'
Ordell looked over at Louis Gara having his morning coffee in his skivvies, his bare feet up on the coffee table where the box of masks was still sitting.
'She's out in Pontiac someplace at a bump shop, getting an estimate,' Ordell said. 'Second one she's been to.'
'I was thinking maybe a Detroit Edison truck,' Louis said, 'or Michigan Bell. You know, look like we're making a service call.'
'We don't want to keep it more than about a half hour,' Ordell said. 'Come back, make the switch at the parking garage and leave it there. I mean whatever kind of vehicle you like. Sound good?'
'Fine,' Louis said. 'You've got it mapped out. I don't see we have any problems, long as you say Richard can handle his end.'
'I programmed him, pushed the on button,' Or-dell said. 'Now he moves till you shut him off.'
Mickey was home before eleven with her estimates. Frank would call that evening and she would tell him-- straight, without the needle--it would cost him somewhere between $5- and-$600 to have her car repaired. Which seemed unbelievable. She might as well play it straight, because Frank would play it down. So, it would cost him $100 deductible; don't worry about it. Don't worry--but what about the inconvenience? Getting the estimates ('Yeah? What else did you have to do?'), being without a car for awhile ('You can't get a ride to the club?'). Right, forget the whole thing. Frank was paying for it. Frank paid the bills. She rode along. (Her mother said, 'Isn't he a wonderful provider? He's so good to you. You have everything you want.')
He would call in the evening and--maybe she wouldn't mention the car at all.
Marshall, the lover, would call around noon with, 'Hi. The coast still clear?' Or some dumb thing. She could let the phone ring, not answer. Except it might be Bo. Or her mother about Bo.
Through the kitchen window over the sink, as she filled the tea kettle, Mickey saw the policeman in the backyard. He was walking across the grass from the drive toward the patio. Then he was over too far for her to see him. Mickey turned the water off and listened. After a moment she left the kitchen, moved through the back hall to the family room and stood looking at the French doors that opened onto the patio. The curtains were pulled back, panes of glass sparkled in the sunlight. She could see the wrought-iron patio table, the canvas chairs. There was no sign of a policeman. Mickey moved back through the hall to the kitchen and was approaching the door to the garage when the front-entrance chimes rang. She jumped.
The policeman was standing close, almost on top of her as she opened the door, the dark-blue uniform bulging at her, the serious, round face beneath the hat brim staring solemnly. He smelled of perspiration.
'Yes,' Richard said, 'we're investigating an alleged burglary in the neighborhood and I wonder did you hear or notice anything unusual last night or early this morning.'
Mickey held the door open all the way, the air blowing the man's odor. She had to concentrate on what he was saying because the uniform distracted her. It was so busy. She wondered why the designer hadn't stopped before making the epaulets and pocket flaps and buttons light-blue. And the stripe down the pants. The badge said something, but she couldn't read it.
'No, I didn't hear a sound. Who was broken into?'
'Well, there was several houses,' Richard said. 'One of them didn't know it till we come around investigating.'
'I'm sure no one came in here,' Mickey said. The policeman's eyes moved past hers. 'You are sure. You checked the house?'
'I'd know,' Mickey said. 'Wouldn't I? Everything was in order this morning. Nothing missing.' 'You checked your basement?'
'No, I haven't been down there.'
'Well, I noticed looking around outside,' Richard said, 'you know one of your basement windows is broken?'
It startled her. 'No, I didn't. Are you sure?'
'Well, I can tell when a window's broke.' Richard didn't smile; he meant it. He said, 'You want me to, I'll come in and have a look around.'
Mickey stepped aside. 'Yes, please. I'd appreciate it.'
He asked Mickey how to get downstairs. When she took him into the back hall and opened the door to the basement, he said she didn't have to go down with him, he'd find it all right. He was gone only a few minutes, came back up the steps filling the stairway--right hand pressed against the tooled-leather Tex Shoemaker holster that held the big Colt Python--then looked both ways along the short hall. Richard didn't say much when he was investigating. He went into the family room, crossed to the French doors and looked out, then jiggled the knob, trying to turn it.
'It's locked,' Mickey said.
Richard drew the beige curtains closed, then reached in between them and jiggled the door knob again.
'How about your upstairs?'
'I know it's in order,' Mickey said. 'The basement's the only thing I wasn't sure of.'
Richard didn't volunteer information about the basement. He said, 'I wonder if I could use your phone.'
