Money Men

Red barely made it to the men's room.

It was after 9:00 P.m. when Carr arrived at his apartment. The one-bedroom place was generally in order. It contained a sofa, TV, kitchen table and chairs, and not much else. Affordable apartments near the beach were small.

In the bedroom, he took the gun and handcuffs off his belt and laid them in a dresser drawer. The framed picture on the dresser was of his mother and father in front of the old frame house in Boyle Heights where he had grown up. The picture was the only one he had framed. The others, of him and his army buddies, police buddies, agent buddies, mugging around beer-bottled tables, were stuffed away somewhere along with the yearly pistol- marksmanship plaques.

The furniture and carpet had the musty smell that things near the beach get; and the brick-and-planks bookcase in the living room (James Jones, a few spy novels and law-of-evidence books) was visibly dusty. As Sally said, 'The whole place could use a thorough and complete cleaning.'

The phone rang. It was Sally.

'How about dinner along the strand somewhere?' she said. He could tell she had been drinking.

'Sure.'

'Let's ride,' she said.

They leaned their bikes against a front window of the restaurant. The foot-high Cyrillic-style letters on the window read PRINCE NIKOLA OF SERBIA-YUGOSIAV FOOD.

Attached to the front door was an almost life-size photo of a tall muscular man wearing wrestler's trunks and a metal-studded championship belt. He was flexing his arms and, with the exception of heavy Slavic eyebrows, was completely bald.

They went in. The tables were filled with tanned beach types. Blonde, stringy-haired young women and frizzy-haired men, all wearing garish T-shirts and sports pants.

From behind a small wine bar in the corner, Prince Nikola of Serbia, wearing a form-fitting T-shirt and white trousers, waved them to a table. He rushed over with menus and a bottle of wine. His accent was heavy. 'Sarma- stuffed cabbage-is only thing left that's any good. I tell you truth, Charlie.' He poured wine into two glasses.

'Sounds okay to me, Nick,' Carr said.

Sally nodded agreement. She picked up the wineglass and drank fully half of its contents.

'Did you read in the newspaper about the man on trial for raping his wife? The judge was talking about it. A landmark prosecution.' She swished her wine and sipped.

Carr nodded.

'I hope he gets convicted,' she said.

'Uh-huh.'

'What do you think about it?' She looked at the ceiling.

'About what?'

'About whether a man can be charged with raping his wife.'

Carr looked out the window. 'I guess maybe he could be charged with stealing his own car, too. Or with indecent exposure when he gets out of the shower.'

Sally shook her head and pursed her lips. She filled her wineglass.

'I want to talk about us,' she said.

'Go ahead.' Carr hoped Nick would hurry with the food.

Sally's mouth was set straight. It was the 'let off steam' look. 'It just seems that things have changed between us. We don't talk any more.' She sipped her wine. 'Not that you ever were the most open person in the world. I'm not trying to start an argument.' More wine. 'I've talked to a lot of other women in my Wednesday-night sensitivity class who have the same problem. There's this hostility now between men and women. Both are afraid to be taken advantage of. It's not that I want to be married; I was married once. It was too restrictive for me. I just think that our relationship could become closer.' Her voice cracked. She took another gulp of wine. 'We've known each other for years. We just seem to be drifting. We go to restaurants, you just sort of drop in to my apartment now and then… You're too self-contained. It's almost as if you don't need other people…and you don't relate well to new people.'

'That's just the way I am,' Carr said.

'I know how you are. It took me years to understand you. It's because of your background. The army, the police department, then one field office after another as a Treasury agent. All the crap. Your life experiences have made you unable to show emotion.'

Prince Nikola of Serbia brought another bottle of wine, winked at Carr, and poured.

'Maybe I should join your sensitivity class. I'm interested in the part where you stand around in a circle and goose the person next to you, or whatever it is they do.'

'You haven't understood a word I have said,' Sally said. 'We are not relating to one another right this very minute.'

It was more of the same during the meal, Sally picking at her food and drinking wine until her lips had a purplish tinge. By coffee time, she was in the 'rut' phase.

'An absolute rut,' she said. 'You go to the same Thursday-night fights with the same friends. You even go to the same restaurants. The same bars in Chinatown. I mean, do you know how many times we've been to this very restaurant?' She was beginning to slur.

'Nick is a friend of mine,' he said.

'That's not the damn point!' She slapped an open palm on the table.

Riding back along the dark Santa Monica strand, Sally weaved slightly from side to side and continued to speak. She used the words need, relate, affection, and dialogue over and over again.

By the time they got to her apartment, she had begun to cry. No sobs, just the usual controlled-anger tears.

Inside, she took a bottle out of the refrigerator and poured wine. Then she sat in the middle of the living- room floor holding her wineglass with both hands.

Carr sat down next to her. He stared at the floor. 'There is something serious I've been wanting to say to you for a long time. I just haven't been able to get up enough guts to say it.'

Her look was incredulous. She set her wineglass down and put her hand on his shoulder. 'What is it?' she said softly.

Carr leaned close to her face, his lips next to her ear. 'I'm a sex fiend,' he whispered. He stuck his tongue in her ear and wrapped his arms around her.

Sally tried not to giggle as she made a halfhearted attempt to struggle.

'Charlie, stop! You're making fun of me!'

He kissed her lips and reached to unzip her pants.

They made wine-prolonged love on the living-room floor. Afterward, Carr carried the nude and sleepy Sally to her bed. He pulled a cover over her, and she said 'I love you' without meeting his eyes.

'I love you, too,' Carr mumbled.

He dressed and bicycled back to his apartment.

After showering, he wrote a note and dropped it in the drawer next to his holster and badge. It read:

1. Check mug books.

2. Ballistics report.

3. Autopsy report.

He went to bed.

TWELVE

The secretary ushered Red Diamond into a paneled office. The little lawyer sat at a big elevated desk with nothing on it but polish. He stuck out a two-ringed hand and forced a smile.

'Glad to see you out,' he said.