Lawrence Block - The Devil Knows You’re Dead

“Then Nicholson James shot Roger the Dodger. And I read the goddamn story, and it didn’t even register.”

“And then you went and talked with Mick.”

“I went and talked with him,” I said, “and somehow the subject of Glenn Holtzmann came up.” No need to say how that had come about. “And what he said made it abundantly clear that I’d let my anxiety keep me from thinking straight. And, miraculously, I began to remember that I’d read something recently that rang a bell. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it was something.”

“Funny how minds work.”

“You said it.”

“Suppose he’d done it,” she said.

“Mick?”

She nodded. “Suppose he admitted it, or suppose you came across some evidence that was absolutely unequivocal. Then what?”

“You mean what would I have done about it?”

“Uh-huh.”

I didn’t have to think it through. “I wouldn’t have done a thing,” I said. “The case was closed and I was through with it.”

“It wouldn’t have bothered you that he was getting away with murder?”

“I’d hate to guess how many murders Mick has gotten away with,” I said. “I was an eyewitness to one of them and he’s told me about plenty of others. If I can swallow all that, why should one more killing stick in my throat?”

“Even if it’s one that involves you?”

“How am I involved? Because I was vaguely acquainted with the victim? Because the case dropped into my lap after the fact? It’s not as though he would have killed somebody close to me, or as if the act itself were particularly reprehensible. If he had killed Glenn, I’d have said he had good reason.”

“So suspecting him didn’t change how you felt toward him.”

“Not really, no.”

“And it didn’t affect your relationship.”

“Why should it?”

“But you went to mass with him this morning,” she said. “And you haven’t done that in a long time.”

“You Jewish girls,” I said. “You don’t miss a trick.”

“Well?”

“I guess you’re right,” I said. “I guess I wouldn’t allow myself to participate in that little ritual of ours as long as I suspected him. And once the suspicion was lifted I guess I felt a need to mark the occasion.”

“And then you remembered the news item.”

“I remembered that there was an item, and that it was recent. I read through back issues until I found what I was looking for. Then I started digging. The minute Julia mentioned a pimp named Zoot, I thought of the one person I remembered seeing in a zoot suit. That was Nicholson James, and I’d seen him talking with Danny Boy when I was working that abduction case. Kenan Khoury’s wife. You remember.”

“Of course.”

“I talked to Danny Boy afterward, and he didn’t even know there was bad blood between the two pimps, so it was good luck that Julia happened to know. But this whole business hasn’t exactly been overflowing with good luck, so I’ll take it.”

“I don’t blame you,” she said. “God, you look tired, honey. I’d offer you more coffee but that’s probably the last thing you need.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I’m tired myself,” she said. “I didn’t get much sleep last night. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”

“I know.”

“I got scared when you called. Saying you’d been up all night and that you needed to talk to me. I was afraid of what you were going to say.”

“I just wanted to tell you what happened.”

“I know.”

“And I didn’t want to go to sleep by myself.”

“Well, you don’t have to,” she said.

When I got into bed the thought came to me that, tired as I was, I was going to have trouble drifting off. The next thing I knew, sunlight was streaming in the bedroom window and the smell of fresh coffee permeated the apartment.

I was having my second cup when the phone rang. Elaine answered it, and I looked over at her and watched her face change. “Just a moment,” she said. “He’s right here.”

She covered the mouthpiece and said, “It’s for you. It’s Janice Keane.”

“Oh?”

She handed me the phone and stalked out of the room. I’d have gone after her but I had the goddamn telephone in my hand. I said, “Hello?”

“Matthew, I’m sorry, I picked a bad time, didn’t I?”

“It’s all right.”

“Do you want to call me back?”

“No,” I said. “It’s okay.”

“If you’re sure,” she said. “Because it’s nothing urgent, except insofar as everything has acquired a certain urgency. I had a moment of what I’d have to call enlightenment yesterday, not long after you left. I almost called you then but I wanted to sleep on it and see if it was still there in the morning.”

“And is it?”

“Uh-huh. And I wanted to share it with you, because it involves you, sort of.”

“Oh?”

“I’m not going to kill myself,” she said. “I’m not going to use that gun you brought me.”

“Really.”

“Yes. Do you want to know what happened? After you left I looked in the mirror, and I couldn’t believe how lousy I looked. And I thought, well, so what? I can live with it. And I suddenly realized that I could live with whatever came along, for as long as I had to. I might not be able to do anything about it, but I could live with it, I could endure it.

“And this was news,” she said. “There are things I can’t control, like the pain and my appearance, and the completely unacceptable fact that I’m not going to be able to get out of this one alive. The gun gave me a kind of control. If I didn’t like the way things were going I could always pull the plug. But who says I have to be in control, and who ever controls anything in this life in the first place? Oh, hell, I can stand a little pain. You never get more than you can handle, isn’t that what they say?”

“That’s what they say.”

“You know what I suddenly understood? I don’t want to miss anything. That’s the whole point of sobriety, you stop missing out on your own life. Well, I want to be here for all of it. Dying’s an experience, and it turns out to be one I’m not willing to miss. I always used to say I wanted death to take me by surprise. A stroke or a coronary, and preferably in my sleep so I wouldn’t have even a split second’s awareness of what was happening. Well, it turns out that’s not what I want after all. I’d rather have time to let things wind down. If I went out like a light, I’d never have the chance to make sure my things go to the people I want to have them. Incidentally, don’t forget you have to come back for the plinth.”

“I know.”

“So I guess I want to thank you one more time for getting me the gun,” she said, “because I had to have it in order to know I don’t need it. I don’t know if I’m making any sense—”

“You’re doing fine.”

“Am I? Sometimes I wonder. You know the thought I had before I went to bed last night? I realized that what scared me most about dying was the fear that I’d fuck it up, that I wouldn’t know how to do it. And then I thought, shit, just look at all the morons and losers who’ve managed it. How hard can it be? I mean, if my mother could do it, anybody can.”

“You’re nuts,” I said. “But I suppose you already know that.”

When I went into the bedroom Elaine was sitting on the stool looking at herself in the mirror over the dressing table. She swung around to face me.

“That was Jan,” I said.

“I know who it was.”

“I don’t know how she happened to call me here. I meant to ask her. I didn’t think she had this number.”

“You had Call Forwarding on.”

“Can’t be. I didn’t put it on last night.”