William Kienzle - Requiem for Moses

He noticed a photo of a woman in a brief swimsuit. A very goodlooking woman. Careful study disclosed not a single visible flaw. It was inscribed, “To Betsy with Love. Mother.”

So this was Ginger. What a coup this would be: Mother and daughter on stage together! How about that: When he found Betsy, he’d found a gold mine.

But where was she? How long does it take a broad to strip?

The image of Moses Green knocked at his consciousness. He didn’t want to let Moe in. But Moe was persistent.

The only reason why he, Jake, had emerged from his blue funk was the news that Moe had changed his mind about forcing Jake out of the Viragos. If it hadn’t been for that bulletin-and the timing-he never would have revived his old custom of laying the winner of these auditions.

Up till this moment, Jake had given no thought to the likelihood that Moe was not going to vanish. Moe was still very much there. Still in control. At any moment-and for any reason-Moe could step back in and try another takeover.

Matter of fact, the bastard might be feeling rotten now, and that could be the reason Moe had come up with this reprieve. He could go back on it any time he wanted. Jake could be in charge of Virago on borrowed time.

Jake dropped to the couch. Betsy reentered the room. True to her departure line, she wore nothing. She struck a pose. Just like her mother: not a single flaw. But Betsy had the advantage of fewer years. Her breasts-even without the support of clothing-more firm and rounded, her legs a little longer and slimmer.

He saw her. His mind registered that she was there. He appreciated her. But he was not thinking of her-or them. Moses Green inhabited his mind.

Jake would have been the last to subscribe to the theory that the most sexual organ in the human body is the brain. But, at this moment, he was the truest example of that theory.

Here was one of the most perfect beauties standing naked before him, offering herself to him. And all he could think of was Moses Green. Jake had no response whatever to Betsy.

Betsy was sure of herself. But she had also been sure of Jake. If he could sit there and do nothing, something must be wrong with her. “Jake, is something wrong?”

No answer.

“Am I doing something wrong?”

“No.”

“You want me to help you undress?”

“No.”

“What is it, Jake. Don’t you like me?”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, dammit! You’re as close to perfect as anybody I ever saw.”

Betsy began to feel awkward standing there nude. Just standing there. It was as if she were a model. But in that case Jake would be doing something-painting, photographing … something. But he was doing nothing. He wasn’t even looking at her.

She stepped into the bedroom and returned in a robe. She sat on the couch next to Jake and put her hand on his arm. “These things happen, Jake. Maybe you’re just tired.”

“Oh, for the love of God, don’t brush this off with something you saw on TV! This thing doesn’t just happen. It’s never happened to me before. Not in my whole life.”

“Then it’s something I said or did. Just tell me, Jake, and it’ll never happen again.”

“It’s not you! Can’t you get that through your thick skull?”

The silence called for a remorseful apology.

“I’m sorry, Betsy. I didn’t mean that last crack. I got something on my mind, and I can’t shake it. Honest, it’s got nothing to do with you … nothing to do with us.” He patted her hand. “I’ll work it out. I gotta do that on my own.”

He rose from the couch. He couldn’t think of another thing to say or do to Betsy. He took his topcoat from the back of the chair and left her apartment.

Betsy didn’t know whether to believe his words or his actions. Had something she’d done or said ruined her chances at Virago?

She would not get much sleep this night.

Jake sat in his car. He did not dare turn the key, much less drive just now. He was far too distracted, an accident waiting to happen. He’d have to think this through.

Outside of a few hours today, the last time he had felt good about things was when he’d thought Moe was dead. That euphoria was shattered when Moe returned from the dead.

The conclusion was inevitable. He didn’t want to face it, but- death was the only solution. After all, anybody who killed Moses Green would be doing the world a favor.

But if he were going to do it, he’d have to plan very carefully. The problem scarcely would be solved if he ended up in Jacktown doing life without parole.

He was confident he could come up with a well-thought-out scheme, but time was a factor. If he was going to do it, it was now or never.

Suddenly, he was quite calm. He might even have been able to make it with Betsy if he hadn’t just left her. It would make no sense to return at this point. And there was more pressing business.

Now he was relaxed and able to drive. And while he drove he could plot.

Contemplating a world without Moe Green was enjoyable. As he began to plot, he realized it wasn’t so much a matter of coming up with a single scenario as it was a process of casting aside a series of possibilities in favor of the perfect plan.

The sign read, PLEASE SEAT YOURSELF.

Three well-dressed, good-looking young people glanced at the sign, conferred briefly, and headed for a booth in the rear of the restaurant. Two, a man and a woman, were white; the other man was black.

“It’s like having your own private club,” David Green said.

“It’s way too late for any of Big Boy’s regular clientele to be here,” Bill Gray said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Judith Green replied. “I don’t know anybody who ever went to a Big Boy.”

They had selected the Big Boy restaurant for their late-night meeting for all of the reasons above.

There would be few customers at this late hour. Indeed, the three were the only patrons in the entire place. Even if others had been there, the likelihood of any recognition between a Big Boy regular and any of these three was minimal.

It was even better than a private club. In a club they surely would know someone or someone would know them.

Of the two waitresses, neither gave any indication of taking her duties seriously. That was no problem for the purposes of this trio; they were not there out of hunger or thirst.

“So,” Judith opened, “how’s it going with you, Davie?”

“As well as can be expected,” he said, borrowing hospital jargon. “How about you, Bill?”

“Making progress,” Gray said. “Progress is our most important product.”

“For the love of Christ, will you guys let up?” Judith was irritated. “We didn’t come here to trade cliches.”

“Well,” David said, “you’re the one who called this meeting-or was it the two of you?” he asked, including Bill.

“It wasn’t the two of us,” Gray insisted.

Judith took full responsibility. “I think it’s important for us to meet. As of Monday night, there was positively no reason whatsoever for us to get together, especially on the sly.”

“Let’s see …” David was toying with his sister. “What could have happened Monday night?”

Bill seemed amused by the sibling baiting. “Your father-my future father-in-law-rose from the dead … don’t you remember?”

“Don’t get cute,” Judith snapped. “We all know what happened. Our problems were solved. Until that unfortunate turn of circumstances.

“What I want to know, and what I want all of us to be aware of, is where we stand now with Daddy.” She paused. “I’ll-”

Before she could finish her sentence, a waitress loomed over them, bearing menus.