Elmore Leonard: Out of Sight

Maurice came upstairs and turned the light on in the bedroom, acting like she wasn't there till he got down and pulled the suitcase out from under the double bed, where he kept his guns. Without looking at her he said, "The one in the dark overcoat's the jailbird with the ten gees on his head. I don't know it's gonna work or not, but I been thinking about a way to collect."

"Where's my brother?"

"Getting us a ride."

"Where's Glenn at?"

"Decide he don't want to go."

"You hide the body good?"

"Shame on you." Maurice brought pistols out of the suitcase, Moselle watching him, and laid them on the bed, the pistols and a box of 9-millimeter hollow points, "Glenn decide he don't want any parts of this business, so he left."

"And you let him?"

Maurice shoved the suitcase under the bed and stood up saying, "You keep talking you gonna risk getting hit in the mouth. Keep asking me questions. The one in the dark overcoat, has all that reward on his head and still talks like a con in the yard. You know what I'm saying?

Like he's a man you don't mess with. Yeah, well, what I say to Jack Foley is buuull shit.

What I'm thinking is you gonna call the police. Say you heard him talking to his friend at the fights, sound like they going out to rob a man's house."

"How would I hear that?"

"You did, don't matter how. You say you believe it's the jailbird escaped from the place in Florida you read about and you want the reward."

"Where they gonna find him?"

"At the man's house he robbed."

"Dead," Moselle said, "from gunshot."

"It would look like it, yeah."

"What about his friend?"

"Same thing."

"Who killed them?"

"Nobody knows. Maybe the man from the house they tried to rob. Or the man's butler. Yeah, maybe the butler done it."

"They dead, too?"

"Imagine it looks like Jack Foley shot them the same time they shot him and his friend, Mr. Buddy. Something like that. I get back I'll tell you how it took place."

"I have to say who I am," Moselle said, "to collect any reward. I do, it's like giving them your name, too. Don't you know that?"

"You like your grocery money, you like to weed out on that polio pot and become paralyzed, but you don't like to work for it." Maurice came over to the window to stand there looking out.

"I thought I heard him. Yeah, there's Kenneth. Got a plumbing and heating truck. Look like we going out on this emergency call. Man's furnace quit on him."

Moselle watched him move back to the bed and pick up two of the guns.

She said, "They three white men in the house. I try to collect this reward you talking about, they gonna be more white men in this house'n you ever saw before."

Maurice turned to her with a.38 Smith snub-nose and a Beretta nine. He said, "This one's for Jack Foley," handing her the Beretta.

"And this one's for his friend Mr. Buddy. I like you to see they get them while I change my clothes. Would you do that for me?"

"I ain't calling any police," Moselle said.

"We talk about it when I get back."

"I don't care you beat me up, I ain't doing it."

"Honey," Maurice said, "getting beat up would be nothing."

Moselle had her hands in the pockets of her green silk robe, one of her hands holding the card Karen Sisco had given her, the hotel phone number written on it.

When Kenneth came in, not paying any attention to them in the living room, White Boy got up and followed him through the foyer to the back part of the house, maybe the kitchen. Right after that the woman appeared, handed them each a gun and left. Foley said, "How come nobody wants to sit and chat with us?"

Buddy checked the.38, stood up from the sofa to stick it in his waist, and looked down at Foley holding the Beretta.

"You know how to work it?"

"I ought to, I've seen it used in enough movies."

Buddy took the pistol from Foley, checked the magazine, racked the slide to load the chamber and handed it back to him.

"It holds fifteen rounds. You have fourteen in there."

"You think that's enough?"

Buddy sat down again.

"These guys are wacko."

Foley nodded.

"I've noticed."

"They're gonna try to set us up."

"I believe it."

"Leave us dead at the scene. Look at the shit in the fireplace."

"I saw it."

Maurice came in the living room wearing white coveralls that looked custom tailored, a white sweatshirt showing at the neck.

Foley said, "That what they're wearing these days to break and enter?"

"Take it and git, how it's done," Maurice said.

"Don't waste any time. Stick a gun in the man's mouth and give him a count of three. Where's it at?"

Buddy said, "How's he gonna tell you with the piece in his mouth?"

"That's his problem," Maurice said.

"Y'all want a drink?

There ain't any hurry. I'd as soon wait here a couple hours."

He looked at his watch.

"Half-past twelve already. We wait and be sure the people snug in their beds. We come, they all sleepy-eyed. You know what I'm saying?"

Foley said, "You're not worried about Glenn?"

"If he told on us," Maurice said, "the police'd be here by now."

"Or they're waiting at the guy's house."

"Don't worry, we gonna check it out. Look around good before we go in."

Buddy said, "Maybe he's dead."

And Maurice said, "Yeah, got run over by a car. Or slipped on the ice and cracked his head. Glenn's gone on his own, that's all I can tell you."

Buddy said, "Well, we got to pick up another car. That Olds is fairly clean."

"No need," Maurice said.

"We all go in the truck Kenneth got us. Man called us don't have any heat in his house. We come back, your car's here waiting."

Foley looked at Buddy. Buddy shrugged. Maurice watching.

He said, "Y'all have your ways of doing banks. I have my ways of doing this type of business. We in the house, we go right upstairs. Anything worth taking's gonna be in the man's bedroom, nine times out of ten. I tell you to do something, like check the other rooms first? See if they any guests in the house? It's on account I know my business.

Understand? It ain't 'cause I want to boss you around. See, my boys know what to do, so I won't be telling them much. But I may have to tell you to go here, go there. Understand? What else? You say you want the cut to be down the middle. Well, even though we been doing all the work so far, I'm gonna agree to that, so we don't sit around here arguing about it. We move fast, in and out, and it's done. Y'all have any questions?"

Buddy said, "Where your guys at?"

"Imagine they in the kitchen. You want to stir up White Boy again? Try to shame him and get him cross at you? For what? Think a minute. What good would that do us?"

"I just wondered," Buddy said, "if they were shooting up or what."

"Yeah, well Kenneth has some meth to keep him all the way live. Some beer, that's all. Anything else you want to know about?"

Foley looked at Buddy. Buddy shrugged and Foley said to Maurice, "You have any bourbon?"

Maurice smiled.

Moselle watched from the bedroom window: watched them get in the big commercial van that had a company name on the side; watched until the van's red taillights were way up the street and gone. She went to the phone looking at the card Karen had given her, the card saying Karen Sisco, Deputy United States Marshal, sounding important, nice-looking card with a silver star on it in a circle. The clock by the bed was on 2:20. They'd been down there almost two hours talking and having drinks, Moselle waiting for them to leave. She knew what she wanted to ask this Karen Sisco, but didn't know what she'd say after, or how she'd answer any questions, knowing she'd be asked some. She had her hand on the phone. Then took it off, wanting to think about it some more. Get her words right in her mind. Have some weed first.