Grant McCrea - Dead Money

Pretty feeble, said Dorita. We’ve got to think this through.

The cab pulled up at Jules’s building.

Sure, I said. I’m with you. But right now, we’re here.

Shit, said Dorita. Shouldn’t we hold off on this?

Forget it, I said. Damn the damn torpedoes. If we can get Lisa to talk, the rest won’t matter.

I don’t know, said Dorita.

Let’s do it, said Butch.

A man of action, I said. I admire that. Dorita, you’re outvoted.

She wasn’t happy, but she went along.

We rang the bell.

No answer.

We rang again.

No answer.

I looked at Butch.

Aren’t you a cop? I asked.

Sure, Rick. I’m a cop.

Then can’t you just bust down this door? Isn’t that what cops do?

Hate to break it to you. But no. Not without a warrant.

Jesus. Why does the law always have to interfere with our fun?

Damn, we were having a good time. I was thinking of asking Butch to join the partnership. R. amp; D. amp; B., LLP. It had a ring.

Speaking of which, the door buzzed. I threw myself at it, pulled it open just before the buzzing stopped.

We made our way upstairs. The door to Jules’s loft was open. We peered in. We didn’t see anybody. I called out Jules’s name. Lisa’s. No answer. I looked at Butch. I was nervous. Maybe it was time to call in the troops.

Butch went into trained cop mode.

He pulled a gun I hadn’t known he carried.

Of course he has a gun, I thought. He’s a goddamn cop.

He crouched. He slid into the room. He checked behind the door. He silently reconnoitered the downstairs area. It didn’t take long. Nobody there. No perps. No bodies. No nothing. Not even a mouse. He looked at the balcony above. He looked at me and raised a questioning eyebrow. Where’s the staircase? he was asking. I pointed to the corridor across the way. Butch slid across the room. He vanished. Dorita and I exchanged worried glances. My heart was pounding. Uncertainty was worse than death. If they shot you, you were gone. Nothing more to worry about. If you had no clue, all you could do was cringe.

Butch wasn’t cringing. Neither was Dorita. She took off her black Blahnik pumps, set them lightly on the floor. She slid off after Butch. I tried to grab her arm, hold her back. She shook me off. She vanished too.

I felt like a coward.

Hell, I was a coward. Better get used to it.

I was guarding the entrance, I told myself. I was taking on the dangerous job.

I closed the door as quietly as I could. I stood guard.

I waited. I lit a cigarette. I didn’t hear a thing. The fear became certainty. I ought to call the cops. I didn’t have the skills for this.

Dorita appeared on the balcony. That she was standing up, not hunched over in danger mode, conveyed a message. She motioned me to come up.

I took off my shoes. That seemed to be the protocol. I crossed the empty space. It seemed interminable. I found the stairs. A wrought iron spiral thing, tucked out of view. I climbed it slowly. I thought my heart would burst. At the top, I found Dorita. She shook her head at me.

You wimp, she whispered. Come here.

She grabbed the back of my neck. She kissed me.

The unexpected kiss is the best.

She led me down a corridor. She stopped at an open door. She nodded me in.

Inside, Butch was crouched on the floor, next to a foam mattress stained with blood. In the corner of the room cowered Lisa. Her face was in her hands. On the mattress, cross-legged with his back against the wall, was Jules. He had on the same T-shirt as I’d last seen him in. Still streaked with blood.

I took a closer look. Not streaked. Soaked. Wet with it. A long curved knife lay loosely in his hand. Butch was carefully examining Jules’s torso.

Entrails.

Shit. The little prick had finally done it. Disemboweled himself. Hara-kiri.

I could only hope he’d landed in samurai heaven.

I looked at Lisa. I looked at Dorita.

Get her out of here, I whispered.

Yes, boss, said Dorita.

She went to Lisa. Put her arms around her. She whispered something in her ear. She lifted up the tiny girl. She led her out.

Butch looked up at me. I nodded.

Sure. Call in the troops. What the hell. I didn’t have a client anymore.

We had some time with Lisa before they got there. She was shaking, sobbing, but not out of control. She was a tough little thing, after all was said and done.

Dorita took her downstairs. I poured us all a drink. Fuck regulations. I wasn’t a cop. Gin and tonic for Lisa. A double Scotch for me. Dorita had to settle for a gin and tonic too. I didn’t know how to make a cosmo. Not the time to ask for the recipe.

I brought Butch a beer. He shook his head no thanks. Oh yeah. He was a cop.

Dorita sat with Lisa on the couch. She had her arm around her shoulder.

Lisa, Dorita said quietly. We need to know what happened.

I know, said Lisa, barely audible.

We know it wasn’t you, Dorita said. We know you did whatever you did out of love. We can see that.

Dorita looked up at me reprovingly. Lest I have a different notion. Lest I interfere.

Lisa closed her eyes.

I just want to go to sleep, she said.

I know, said Dorita. I understand. And you can. You can go to sleep. But first you have to tell us. Tell us what happened.

Lisa opened her eyes. She looked at Dorita. Dorita looked into Lisa’s eyes. Lisa slumped back into the sofa. The sharp edges softened into resignation. She nodded her head.

Veronica, she whispered.

Dorita and I looked at each other. There it was again.

What about Veronica? Dorita asked.

Lisa took a deep breath. She straightened her back. She looked at us.

Veronica’s dead, she said.

Okay, said Dorita softly. How did she die?

I killed her, said Lisa.

My poker face broke down.

I didn’t have an index card for this.

Lisa looked at me, at Butch. She shrugged.

I didn’t mean to, she said.

I’m sure you didn’t, said Dorita. Can you tell us how it happened?

That day you came over, said Lisa, looking at me. She was tied up in the back room.

The words caught in her throat.

The room we just found you in? asked Dorita.

Jules and me were fighting.

That time, I said.

Right, she said. And then, just after I went upstairs, Veronica got the gag out of her mouth. She started shouting.

That’s why you put on the music, started yelling at Jules? I asked. To drown out her shouting?

Yes, she said quietly.

Jesus. Veronica had been right there. In the loft. And I hadn’t even thought about her. Thought about finding her. Talking to her.

Cancel my job interview with the CIA.

And then what happened? asked Dorita.

She put her hand on Lisa’s, gave it a reassuring squeeze.

I went into the back room, said Lisa. I was scared. I was so scared.

She sobbed a sob or two.

She pulled herself together. She took a deep breath.

I got the duct tape, she said. That we’d taped her to the chair with. And I wrapped it around her face. To stop her screaming. And when I’d wrapped her up I went into the other room. I lay down. I put a pillow over my head. I couldn’t stand it any more. I was trying to protect Jules. I was just trying to protect Jules.

We could hear the sirens coming.

She struggled to contain the tears. She took a deep breath. She looked at me apologetically.

What was the argument about? I asked.

About Veronica, she said. I told Jules we had to let her go. It was so stupid. The whole thing was so stupid. But he wouldn’t do it. I told him we could go to Mexico. Wherever. Just get away. But he wouldn’t listen to me. He wanted to…

Wanted to? asked Dorita.

Get revenge.

Against whom?