'You really think he'll tell?'
'Do you?'
Jacob frowned. 'I don't know. Probably not. It's just that he's been gambling lately, so he's short on money.'
'Gambling?'
He nodded.
'Where's he been gambling?' For some reason the idea seemed absurd to me.
'In Toledo. At the racetrack. He's lost some money.'
'A lot?'
Jacob shrugged. 'A bit. I'm not sure exactly.'
I rubbed my face with my hands. 'Shit,' I said. Then I turned to the window. There was a pigeon sitting outside on the ledge, puffed up against the cold. I tapped the glass with my knuckles, and it flew away. Its wings flashed in the sunlight.
'Do you see what's happening, Jacob?' I asked.
He didn't say anything.
'Lou can send us both to jail now.'
'Lou's not going to--'
'And we can't control him. Before, we could threaten to burn the money, but now we can't. He'll tell if we do.'
'You never would've burned it, Hank.'
I waved this aside. 'You know what the problem is? The problem is, you think you can trust him. He's your best friend, so you think he won't betray you.'
'Come on. Lou's just--'
I shook my head. 'You don't have any distance on this. You're too close to see what he's really like.'
'What he's really like?' Jacob asked incredulously. 'And you think you're going to tell me that?'
'I can tell you--'
He cut me off, his voice rising with anger as he spoke. 'He's my best friend, Hank; you know nothing about him. You've seen him drunk a few times, so you think you know him, but you don't. You can't tell me anything.'
I turned to face him. 'Can you guarantee that he won't turn us in?'
'Guarantee?'
'Will you write up a confession, saying you killed Dwight Pederson all by yourself, sign it, and give it to me to keep?'
He threw me a frightened look. 'A confession? Why would you want that?'
'To show the police if Lou were to tell on us.'
Jacob was speechless. He seemed mortified by the idea, which was exactly what I'd hoped for. I didn't really want a confession; I was just trying to scare him, trying to shock him out of his complacency.
'It's your fault, Jacob, our being in this mess. You're the one who told him.'
Jacob didn't say anything. I waited a moment, then turned back toward the window.
'Now Lou's asking me for something I can't give him,' I said. 'And when I refuse to do it, he's going to tell. He's going to send us to jail.'
'Come on, Hank. You're the one that's going to end up getting us caught. You're getting all worked up over--'
'I came here this morning,' I said, not turning from the window, 'to find out whose side you're on.'
'Side?'
'You have to choose.'
'I'm not on any side. You both keep talking about sides...'
'Lou talks about sides?'
He ignored my question. 'I'm on both your sides. We're all together. That was the plan.'
'If you had to pick a side--'
'I'm not going to pick a side.'
'I want you to pick one, Jacob. I want to know: Lou, or me?'
Behind me I could sense his confusion, his panic. The mattress creaked as he shifted his weight.
'I'm...'
'Pick one.'
There were perhaps ten full seconds of silence. I waited through them, holding my breath.
'I'd pick you, Hank,' he said then. 'You're my brother.'
I rested my forehead against the windowpane. The glass was cold; it made my skin ache. Out on the street, right below me, an old man dropped his newspaper, and it flung apart in the wind. A passing couple helped him gather it back together, and they talked for a bit, the old man nodding vigorously. 'Thank you,' I saw him say as they parted. 'Thank you.'
Mary Beth made a yawning sound, and I heard my brother start to pet him.
'Don't forget it, Jacob,' I said, my breath steaming the glass in front of me. 'Whatever else happens, don't forget it.'
TUESDAY afternoon there was a knock on my office door. Before I could say anything, it creaked open, and Lou stuck his head through. He smiled at me, showing his teeth. They looked like a rodent's, sharp, yellow.
'Hey, Mr. Accountant,' he said. Then he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. He came all the way up to my desk but didn't sit down. He had on his white jacket, a pair of work boots. His face was pink from the cold.
This was the moment I'd been dreading for the past three days, but now that it had finally arrived, I experienced no fear, no anger. I simply felt tired.
'What do you want, Lou?' I sighed. I knew that whatever it was, it probably wasn't something I could give him.
'I need some money, Hank.'
That was all he said. He didn't issue any threats, didn't mention Pederson or Jacob, but I could feel it hanging in the air between us, like a scent.
'I already told you--' I started, but he cut me off with a wave of his hand.
'I'm not asking for that,' he said. 'I'm just asking for a loan.'
'A loan?'
'I'll pay you back as soon as we split up the money.'
I frowned. 'How much?'
'I need two thousand,' he said. He tried smiling at me but seemed immediately to sense that it was a bad idea and gave it up.
'Two thousand dollars?' I asked.
He nodded somberly.
'Why would you need that much money?'
'I've got debts.'
'A two-thousand-dollar debt? To who?'
He didn't answer me. 'I need the money, Hank. It's real important.'
'Gambling debts?'
He seemed to flinch a little, surprised perhaps that I knew about the gambling, but then he managed a smile. 'Lots of debts.'
'You've lost two thousand dollars?'
He shook his head. 'A bit more than that.' He winked. 'This is just good-faith money, to hold people off till I get my split.'
'How much did you lose?'
'All I need is two thousand, Hank.'
