Ed McBain - Alice in Jeopardy

“Look,” he says, “I don’t know what’s going on here, but nobody’s done nothin to—”

“What’s going on here,” Sally says, “is you’re trying to extort money from Mrs. Glen denning here…”

“Extort? Hey, no…”

“Hey, no, no,” Angelet says, holding up his hands in denial. “All we’re doing—”

“All you’re doing is threatening to harm her if she doesn’t make good on her—”

“No, no, hey—”

“—deceased husband’s debt !”

“ Threaten her? Who threatened her? Lady, did we threaten you?” Holmes asks Alice, and takes a step toward her, which must appear menacing to the lady with the Glock because she raises it again and points it at his head.

“Hey,” he says, “watch it with that gun, okay? Who the hell are you, anyway? What’s it to you, this woman’s—?”

“Special Agent—”

“—husband owes us—”

“Sally Ballew, Federal Bureau of—”

That’s enough for Holmes. He knows the rest of the sentence, doesn’t have to hear the rest of it. The titty sister here is an FBI agent. Eddie Glendenning’s widow done called the fuckin FBI on them!

“Okay, we’re out of here,” he says. “Lady, forget what your husband owes—”

“Just one damn second !” Sally shouts.

Alice blinks.

The pistol is steady in Sally Ballew’s hand. It is undeniably pointed straight at David Holmes’s head. It is aimed directly between his eyes, as a matter of fact.

“Put it in writing,” Sally says.

“Whut?”

“Put it in writing. Felix, get the man a pen and some paper.”

“Yes, Sally,” Forbes says, and reaches into his inside jacket pocket to remove from it a genuine bona-fide fountain pen, which Holmes didn’t know people actually wrote with anymore. Forbes tears a page from a little leather-bound notebook, and hands both pen and paper to Holmes, who looks at Sally and shrugs expectantly.

“Write what I tell you,” Sally says.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Satisfaction of IOU,” she says. “Write it.”

“How do you spell ‘satisfaction’?” Holmes asks.

Angelet spells it for him. He is very eager to get out of here. He will sign a satisfaction agreement or whatever the hell this document is supposed to be — which he doubts is legal, by the way, and talk about extortion — he will even sign his own mother’s death warrant if he can get out of here before the black FBI agent puts any holes in him. Holmes is already writing. He’s not too enthusiastic about hanging around here, either.

“Satisfaction of IOU,” he repeats aloud, writing.

“Underline it,” Sally says.

He underlines the words.

“Now write the name Edward Glendenning…”

“Edward Glendenning.”

“And under that… how much was it, Mrs. Glendenning?”

“Two hundred thousand dollars.”

“Two hundred thousand dollars,” Sally says.

“Two hundred thousand dollars,” Holmes repeats, writing.

“Two hundred thousand dollars,” Angelet agrees, and gives a little encouraging nod to Holmes, urging him to write faster so they can get the hell out of here.

“Now write ‘Paid In Full…’”

“Paid In Full,” Holmes repeats, writing.

“And both of you sign it.”

Holmes signs it. Angelet takes the pen from him at once. He signs his name with a flourish, and then puts the cap back on the pen and hands it to Forbes.

“Now fold it and give it to Mrs. Glendenning,” Sally says.

Holmes folds the page. He hands it to Alice.

“Thank you,” she says.

“My pleasure, ma’am,” Holmes says.

“The debt is satisfied, is that correct?” Sally asks.

“Yes, ma’am, the debt is satisfied,” Holmes says.

“It’s satisfied,” Angelet agrees, nodding.

“Which means you have no further reason to bother this woman, is that also correct?”

“That is correct, yes, ma’am,” Angelet says.

Until now, he always thought it might be pleasant to go to bed with a black woman. He has now changed his mind about that.

“And just for your information,” Sally says, “in case you ever decide to come near Mrs. Glendenning again, in the state of Florida extortion is a second-degree felony punishable by up to fifteen years in prison and a ten-thousand-dollar fine. Not to mention the civil suit that might ensue if you breach the document you just signed. My advice?”

Both men look at her like kids who’ve been rowdy in class and are now in the principal’s office.

“Crawl back in your holes and don’t come out again,” Sally says.

“Good advice, ma’am,” Angelet agrees. “Can we go now?”

“Go,” Sally says, and points the Glock toward the front door.

They are gone in a flash. Alice goes to the drapes, parts the Venetian blinds. She sees the white Caddy burning rubber out of her driveway, hears it scratching off. Behind her, Sloate tells Sally, “That paper they signed is total bullshit.”

“I know,” Sally says.

Alice is wishing that she herself could behave the way Sally Ballew just did. She is thinking that from the minute she met Edward Fulton Glendenning, she was dependent on him for her every move. And the minute Ashley was born, and later Jamie, she became even more and more reliant on her husband, until finally she lost sight of herself entirely, became merely an extension of Eddie, a mere “Mrs. Glendenning” who was essentially unable to function without him.

She remembers an argument she and Eddie had several weeks before the accident. The fight was about money. That was the only thing they ever fought about, money. There never seemed to be enough money. Even though he was always at the office working late, studying his damn computer, trying to figure out his next market move, they never had enough. The argument that night…

“I’m investing in stocks for us,” he tells her.

“Well, when do these stocks begin paying off, Eddie? I look at our savings account, it just keeps going down every month.”

“Well, shit,” he says, “ I wish I had a crystal ball, too, Alice, but I don’t. I’m just a poor working stiff trying to earn enough money to support—”

“Oh, please, Eddie, where are the violins?”

“You’re worried so much about money, why don’t you go get a job at Mickey D’s?”

“I have a job, Eddie! I’m raising two kids.”

“I mean a real job.”

“That is a real job, Eddie.”

“Yes, I know, you’ve told me at least—”

“And I’d have what you call a real job if—”

“Yes, here we go again.”

“Yes, if I’d gone in with Denise when she—”

“Right, you’d be a big movie producer now.”

“I’d be somebody, Eddie. Instead of a person whose husband thinks raising two kids isn’t a real—”

“Oh, fuck the kids!” he shouts.

“Don’t you dare… ”

“You keep using the kids as an excuse for—”

She rushes him with her fists clenched and raised, her eyes blazing, ready to strike him for what he just said.

“No, Mommy!”

Jamie’s voice.

She turns. He is standing in the doorway to his bedroom, tears in his eyes.

“Don’t hurt Daddy,” he says.

She takes him in her arms.

She hugs him close.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she says. “I’m so sorry.”

Three weeks later, Eddie drowned at sea.

And she wonders now if Jamie stopped talking only because he overheard their bitter argument and somehow blamed Alice for what happened out there in the Gulf of Mexico.

Ashley is talking in whispers because she doesn’t want her father or Christine to hear what she’s saying. She knows they are going to get under way as soon as it’s dark. She has heard them discussing this. She is afraid of what might happen after they get under way.