Megan Abbott - Phoenix Noir

Her in the car next to me. The light at Fifteenth Avenue and Grand had turned red. Through the windows of the boxing club, I could still see the kids working out in the ring.

“Stupid fucker. Why’d he have to bring a gun?”

“All the jewels are in the bag?” I asked.

“What do you think?”

She ran her fingers down my shoulder. I reached a hand up toward her face to touch her, stroke her hair.

She leaned back and lit a cigarette, using the dash lighter.

“You got another one of those?”

She pulled another butt from the pack and handed it to me. I used hers to light it.

I sucked in deeply and exhaled. It’d been a long time since I’d smoked. I’d forgotten how good it felt.

“No one saw you? The desk clerk, anyone like that?” I asked her.

“No one. He got the room. I waited in the car.”

“You’re sure of that?”

“I’m sure. No one saw me. I stayed in the car.”

“Okay then,” I said at last. “Where do we go now?”

I tried not to think about what she’d done to Cooper back at the hotel. She’d pulled me into this mess and I didn’t know how to get out. I felt no closer to her for it. She sat there smoking, thinking about what, I had no idea. About me? About where we’d go next? I was half tempted to just drive her to the bus depot and leave her there.

Be done with it.

No tail was worth it.

Then she put her hand on my leg.

I could smell her body, closer to mine now.

“Your place?” she asked.

I drove, imagining how she’d look in my bed. It had been too long since I’d had a woman in my bed. Okay, she’d just killed a guy and didn’t seem to give a rat’s ass about it, but Cooper had it coming to him. He should have stayed in Scottsdale, with his television dad, rich girlfriends, and phony so-called business associates.

She had no choice.

I told myself this as I imagined the feel of her dark body beneath mine, the coffee hair spilling across my chest.

We stopped for a bottle on the way.

Vodka.

That’s what she wanted.

She took the vodka from me as soon as I got back into the car.

“You sure you don’t want to wait until we get to my place?”

She took a pull from the bottle, sighed, and leaned her head back on the seat. “I need this now.”

“I’ve got clean glasses at home.”

“Here.” She handed me the bottle. I put it to my lips and drank. It burned. I didn’t like vodka, but I wanted to make her happy. And I had done everything she asked me to do. What difference did it make what kind of bottle we should get?

I sat down behind the wheel and passed the bottle back to her. She put the cap back on it and set it down on the floor between her feet.

The vodka didn’t make much of a dent against the jangling of my nerves. It would take more than a few shots for that.

My hand shook as I turned the key in the ignition.

She put her hand over mine. “You’ll be fine now, Karl. It’s over.”

“I didn’t think anyone was supposed to get killed, that’s all.”

“No one did.”

“How much you think we got? In the bag, I mean.”

“We count it at your place. We count it, then we go to bed. It will be good for both of us, Karl. I promise. Soon, you’ll not worry anymore about Cooper. Valerie will worry for both of us.”

“No,” I said. I reached for her and pulled her next to me.

“We’re in it together, Valerie. I said I’d do this with you.” But I didn’t really mean it anymore.

I kissed her. I closed my eyes and kissed her in the darkness of the car, tasting the vodka and cigarettes. I tried to put it out of my mind but I could only see her now above Cooper, the gun in her hand, the look of triumph in her eyes.

We parted.

I started the Impala and backed out onto Grand.

Once we got back to my place we would split the goods. I would let her stay the night, if that’s what she wanted, but after that I was gone. I needed to get a story. If anyone connected me to her I’d just tell them she was a pickup and that’s all. I didn’t know shit about Cooper, the money, any of it. It was better that way. I’d let her go. I would miss her, a lot, but I didn’t have any choice.

I had driven about half a mile when she told me to pull over, that she was going to be sick.

I steered the car off Grand, beneath the eastbound lanes of I-10. She lurched out of the car and stumbled to one of the pillars that held the freeway above us. I could see her hunched over in the shadows of the overpass, shoulders hitching.

I waited.

The bag was on the floor of the passenger seat next to the bottle.

The jewels were all there in it.

All I had to do was shut the door and drive. Get on I-10 and drive west and don’t stop until I hit the Pacific.

She’d have to go back to the stripper pole and escort jobs. Too bad about that, but I didn’t ask to be part of a murder.

Her door remained open, leaving the interior light on. I reached over to pull the door shut when I heard her cry out. I wasn’t sure. The cars were so loud above us. I called out to her.

No answer.

I got out of the car and went around to her side. Her door was still open. Before shutting it, I looked down at the bag.

I had to see them. Seeing them all there would make it easier leaving her.

I leaned down and reached for the bag. That’s the moment I felt the punch of the bullet hit me from behind. Right under my rib cage. It knocked me down against the seat of the car. I could smell her there on the vinyl, and the hot odor of the dirt and tires beneath me.

I slid down from the seat and onto the hard, dry ground.

I could see her above me, gun in her hand, pointing it at me. I tried reaching up to the door handle. Then something slammed into my chest and this time I heard the pop of the gun against the rushing of cars above us.

I couldn’t breathe. My mouth worked but nothing came.

She leaned over me.

She kissed me then. The last one.

You ever think about the last kiss you’ll get? Who will give it to you? If perhaps it’s someone like Valerie out there waiting to do it?

Maybe there are worse things than that.

“I’m sorry, Karl. You don’t have to worry now.”

I tried to speak, spitting blood at her instead.

The train’s whistle brought me back.

Valerie was gone.

So was the Impala.

I could see the ribbon of the overpass above me. It seemed so high. I’d never noticed that before. How high above Grand the interstate was. I couldn’t hear the cars on it anymore. They had all gone away.

Everyone had gone away.

I’d reviewed the pictures of Valerie enough. I was tired of it all. There was just the last one of her left anyway.

I could see the moon between the lanes above me. Just a fingernail, really, that was all.

Paint it red and claw my fucking heart out.

The train off Grand cried out again. Maybe it was heading west. It didn’t matter. I would be riding that whistle into the black, bringing that last picture of Valerie along with me.

South Phoenix

Somebody Told Me” by the Killers pumped from the overhead speakers as Ivan Monk entered the busy fitness club. The facility took up the fourth floor of a new high-rise offering a pool, sauna, and a large expanse of machines and free weights.

Passing by the spin class, he heard the instructor joke into her hands-free set, “My friend told me, looking at the mess of clothes on my bed, ‘Girl, you need to get you some new gear.’” The woman, a bronze-hued Latina in a form-fitting outfit, laughed gleefully. She would have been at home on the cover of Maxim . “And I realize that light blue sports bras against dark skin can be distracting, but I can get them three for a good price at Big 5. I guess I kind of had it hanging out in some of my outfits, but you know, really, I hadn’t noticed.” She chuckled again.