Elmore Leonard - Out of Sight

Inez was looking right at him, all eyes, shoulders hunched, her hands tightened into fists. She said, "Give it to him!" raising her voice, the words sounding hoarse and scratchy and she began to cough saying,

"Give him what he wants."

"He's gonna shoot you anyway," Frankie said, "he's gonna shoot us both," and looked at Maurice.

"Aren't you?"

"Right this second," Maurice said, "you don't tell me where your money's at."

"It's different places in that file cabinet," Frankie said, "the one by Cedric."

Kenneth said, "You don't need Inez no more. Can I have her?"

"Go on," Maurice said, "but be quick." Kenneth took Inez by the arm and she went with him, eyes glued wide-open, tripping over her own feet, out of the room. Maurice, making a face, said to Glenn, "Would you fuck that woman? Kenneth, he don't pass up nothing has a pussy and it's free."

White Bo'y said, "Man, I wouldn't fuck her with your dick."

"All right," Maurice said, pulling the file cabinet open, "let's see what's in here." He poked through the files, finding currency he handed to Glenn who counted it, all small bills, and dropped the money in a cardboard box. It amounted to a few bucks over twenty-eight hundred. That was it. Maurice said to Frankie, "You gonna make us work, huh? You sure you want to?"

"Fuck you," Frankie said, "you're gonna kill me anyway."

Maurice didn't say if he would or not. He didn't say anything at all until they'd dumped all the files from the cabinets, looked in the boxes-some with little crack bottles in them-looked in the desk drawers, looked in the toilet tank, looked everywhere they could look, and when they were done Maurice said to Frankie, "You're right," and shot him twice in the chest-like that, bang, bang, nothing to it-Glenn watching Frankie almost go out the window, hit the sill and fall dead.

Maurice said, "I guess we through here."

Glenn, with the money, followed Maurice along the hall wanting to get out of here, man, right now, run down the stairs and out. They came to a bedroom with the door open and there was Kenneth by the bed pulling up his pants, Inez lying on the bed with her knees still raised, her legs apart and Glenn said, "Jesus," the sight repulsive to him, this worn-out junkie showing herself, that dark wedge deep between her pure white thighs, it was ugly, and yet he felt himself becoming aroused.

Kenneth said, "Who wants a piece of this?"

Glenn stood there holding the carton of money; he was one of them, wasn't he? He said, "You leave any for us?" Like he was kidding.

Maurice said, "Look out," moving into the doorway and raised his big army pistol.

Kenneth saw him and held up his hand as if to hold him off.

"Wait. What you doing?" Hurrying then to get his belt fastened.

Maurice extended his.45 into the room and fired and the white stick figure on the bed jumped and its legs came straight out stiff and hit the bed. Maurice fired again and the body jumped again, though not as much this time. Maurice paused.

"She dead?"

Kenneth looked down at Inez, Glenn watching, waiting to hear.

"If she ain't, she ought to be. Man, I never been this close."

"Make sure," Maurice said.

Glenn followed him down the stairs and out the front door once they got it unlocked, down the walk through a foot of snow to breathe in the cold air, breathe it in and let it out slow, seeing his breath. Man oh man, these guys. He got in the van with Maurice, who sat looking at the house saying, "Come on, come on." They waited. When Kenneth got in behind the wheel Maurice said, "She dead?"

"She is now."

Glenn wanted to know what he did to her, but Maurice didn't ask so he kept quiet.

They waited, the engine running now but it was still cold, their breath coming out like smoke. Finally Glenn said, "Where in the hell's White Boy?"

"In there leaving his calling card," Maurice said, and Kenneth laughed.

"White Boy's a shitter."

Kenneth kept laughing till Maurice told him to be quiet.

Glenn sat there in the dark, cold in his wool-lined raincoat, wondering what he was doing here.

When they got home Maurice peeled off some bills for Moselle. She looked at the money saying, "This is it, huh? I can do better with the police. Was on the radio, they give you a hundred dollars for every gun you turn in, no questions asked."

"You believe that?" Maurice said.

"You believe they don't check the serial numbers, see was any stole?"

"Was on JZZ just now. They wouldn't say it it wasn't true."

"Touch my weapons," Maurice said, "I'll trade you in." He turned to Glenn.

"You gonna stay with me now, I can keep an eye on you."

Glenn frowned, squinting at him.

"The fuck're you talking about?"

"So you don't disappear on me."

Glenn kept squinting, trying hard to show surprise.

"Why would I do that?"

"Like he has the gift," Moselle said to Glenn, "can read your mind. I wasn't even there and I know what you're thinking. Was worse than you imagined, wasn't it? Baby, you with the bad boys now."

He was quiet in the elevator, quiet once they were in the suite and Foley had called room service and learned it would take about fifteen minutes. When he told her she said, "Oh," and looked around the room as if wondering where they would sit. He watched her turn on lamps and go to the window to tell him it was still snowing. He watched her cross to the bedroom saying she'd be right back, but knew room service would arrive before she came out.

The waiter delivered a fifth of Wild Turkey, a bucket of ice, a pitcher of water, two glasses and a dish of peanuts, placing the tray on the coffee table. Foley paid him. He was sitting on the sofa pouring drinks when Karen came out of the bedroom with a cigarette, still wearing the black suit. She said, "Oh, it's here. I hope you signed for it." He didn't say if he did or not. He was eating peanuts. He got up with a drink in each hand, walked over to her and she said, "Oh, thanks," taking the drink. He watched her sip from the glass and then raise her eyebrows to say, "Mmmm," as if she'd never tasted bourbon before.

"You're having second thoughts," Foley said.

She raised her cigarette and looked at it.

"I know what's bothering you and I can understand how you feel."

He waited while she took a deep drag on the cigarette and turned her head to blow the smoke away from them. When she was looking at him again he said, "You think I'm too old for you."

He waited again.

This time while she seemed a little surprised.

He waited with no expression.

She began to smile. Good. Not giving it much, but looking right at him and it was the right kind of smile, conspiring with him again, knowing something no one else did. She put on a serious look and nodded. She said, "Or I'm too young for you.

Do you think we can work it out?"

They were on the sofa now with whiskey and peanuts, no plan, letting it happen, gradually feeling a glow. Karen's shoes were off, her legs tucked under her. Foley took off his jacket but not his tie; he felt good in the tie. He remembered the clipping, Karen's picture with the shotgun, and laid it on the coffee table.

She said, "So it wasn't by chance. You found out I was here." He told her he'd called her room from downstairs. She said, "If I had answered, what were you gonna say?" He told her, well, he'd say who he was and did she remember him and ask if she'd like to meet for a drink.

"If I remembered you," Karen said, "I came looking for you. I would've said sure, let's do it. But for all you knew I could show up with a SWAT team. Why would you trust me?" He said because it would be worth the risk. She said, "You like taking risks," touching his face with her hand, then kissed him, very gently, and said, "So do I, peanut breath."