“After they cleared the road, why didn’t you stop at a pay phone and call?”
“When we finally moved, everybody needed gas, so they lined up at all the exits I passed for the next hour. I figured I’d be better off if I kept going until I found one that wasn’t packed. Now that everybody’s got a cell phone, there are hardly any pay phones, and I might have to wait forever. I knew you were probably feeling even worse by then, and a call from me telling you I was stuck in the desert wouldn’t help. I had to talk to you in person.”
“What did I feel then?”
“You were feeling taken for granted and humiliated. You felt that I had kind of talked you into doing something you were shy about to show me you really wanted me, and then wasn’t even serious about it. That I got you to commit yourself, like saying out loud that you loved me, and then didn’t say anything back. You felt betrayed.”
She looked at him with new respect. “That’s just about right.”
Bull’s-eye. He stood. He would come around the table to take her hand. He planned to touch it tenderly. Maybe he could even get her to start over and have the experience they’d missed. He was a little tired, but it was all right. They had a lot of hours before she had to go to work. He reached for her hand.
She snatched it back from the table, out of reach. “Don’t.”
“But doesn’t what happened mean anything?”
“To you. Not to me. Get your stuff, put it in your car, and go.”
“After all these years apart, and then finally coming together all the way out here in California, you want to dump me for being late coming home one night?”
“No, Jeff,” she said. “I’m dumping you because you’re not the one. That’s what every single girl is on the lookout for—the one who was meant for her. You’re not him. Having you here only wastes my time and diverts my attention.”
“How can you know that?”
“I’ve known you since ninth grade, remember? I just let you live with me for over a month, with benefits. Believe me, if you were the one, I’d be aware of it by now. You’re not the one for me, so don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out.”
“I won’t argue,” he said. “I suppose you’ve found another candidate for the audition.”
She shook her head. “I don’t have to tell you anything about my future except that you’re not in it.” She got up and he made a halfhearted grab for her, hoping to give her a hug that might soften her a little, but she was fast on her feet and strong from two years of carrying a tray of drinks through a crowd of drunken men.
She was in the closet, had all his clothes on hangers off the pole and hanging on the hook on the door, and then went back for more. She swept his underwear and socks off the closet shelf and into his open suitcase, tossed his shoes in on top, then went into the bathroom to scoop up his toothbrush, hairbrush, and deodorant, and tossed them into the mix.
“Wow,” he said. “What’s the hurry?”
“I asked you to go. I explained why. Then I listened politely to your full load of bullshit. I have no more patience.”
He was angry now. He moved toward her and started to step over his suitcase so what he had to say would be said eye to eye.
“Eldon!” It was a tone Jeff hadn’t heard before. “Him!”
A second transformation took place. Eldon was off the couch and standing five feet from him with his ears back and his inch-long fangs bared. His throat emitted a low growl that seemed to presage something awful.
“Whoa, Eldon,” Jeff said quietly. “We’re buddies.” He reached out toward Eldon’s head to pat it, but the dog snapped his jaws like an alligator and snarled as he took a step forward. Jeff was on one foot, lost his balance, and stepped in the center of his clothes in the open suitcase.
“Sit, Eldon.” The dog sat, but now he looked to Jeff as though the idea of sinking his teeth into him had not entirely left his mind.
Jeff put the canvas money bag in his suitcase beside his right foot, stepped out of the suitcase away from Eldon, closed and latched it, and retreated toward the door. He was careful to keep the suitcase between him and the dog. “Okay.”
“Take your cell phone. It’s on the bookcase. But leave the key.”
He picked the cell phone off the shelf, fiddled with his key chain to get the apartment key off, held it up between his thumb and forefinger, and set it on the bookcase. He opened the door, stepped into the empty space, and said, “A month from now, when you’re sorry, just remember I tried to get you to listen.” His hands were full, so he walked off and left the door open.
Lila stood perfectly still, heard the receding footsteps, and then the outer door open and close. She closed and locked her apartment door, but wasn’t completely relaxed until she heard the big engine of the black Trans Am revving unnecessarily for a moment, then roaring off to propel Jefferson Davis Falkins into somebody else’s life.
14
KAPAK WAS in his bathroom shaving when he saw Spence appear in the mirror. “Apparently someone has been using a company credit card to steal money.”
Kapak’s eyes widened, then narrowed again. “How much?”
“The bank said the balance was over the hundred thousand mark when they cut the credit line, but they don’t know how much of the balance was legit. There was a cash advance of forty thousand, another twenty in American Express gift cards, some clothes, and a lot of jewelry—mostly diamond rings and watches and things.”
“Why didn’t they tell me before this?” He set his razor on the marble shelf above the sink and wiped the shaving cream off his face with a towel.
“They called the number they had, which was the house phone, throughout business hours and into the early evening. They also called your cell phone but couldn’t get through. They said they left messages.”
Kapak stepped past him into the bedroom, went to the table by his bed, picked up his phone, and looked at the display. The phone was turned off. He remembered turning it off when he went to the police station. But how could he have been carrying it around for the rest of the day without even looking at it? He pushed the power button and the screen lit up. “Twelve missed messages. How much of the hundred grand am I on the hook for?”
“Probably not much. There’s a federal law that limits your liability to something like fifty bucks.”
“Five zero? I only eat fifty bucks of this?”
“I’m pretty sure.”
“Can you call them back and check?” He was taking the cards out of his wallet.
“No problem. First, could you look to see if you still have the credit card? That was the first thing they asked.”
“I don’t have it.” He thought for a few seconds. “Joe Carver. He was here alone waiting for me when I came back from my shower in the guesthouse.”
Spence nodded. “I’ll use the phone in the kitchen to talk to the credit card people.” A few minutes later he reappeared, and Kapak looked closely at him for the first time. His hair was still slightly wet, his face had a close shave. The white shirt he was wearing had just been unpackaged and his body heat had not quite erased the creases. He always seemed to be around, but he always seemed to be rested, showered, and shaved. No matter how hot it was, he was cool as a snake.
Kapak said, “I think we’ve got to look at a few things from a different angle.”
“What things?”
“Let’s start with Joe Carver. I think he’s not just some defenseless guy we mistakenly blamed for robbing me. I think he’s something much worse. When he came here yesterday morning, I was in the shower in the guesthouse. That’s when he must have taken my credit card. But if you think about what he wanted, it gives you a better idea of who he is. He came here in person because he wanted to show me his face and prove to me that he hadn’t robbed me. And it might have been true. The guy who robbed me wore a ski mask.”
“So?”
“He knows what the world is like. It’s a hard place with lots of spots to trip and get hurt. So he steals my
