Elmore Leonard: Out of Sight

"But hasn't been slept in," Foley said.

They came to the next room, the door open, the light off.

Foley turned it on and saw stuffed animals on the dresser and a vanity, all lands of little animals, birds, reptiles, and a bed that had been slept in, covers hanging down on one side, rumpled pillows, a pillow on the floor, a pair of sneakers… two pairs of sneakers, jeans and a sweatshirt draped over the arm of a chair.

Foley picked it up, a dark blue one with UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN lettered on it in yellow. He went to the bed, leaned in close to the pillows and caught a soft powdery scent. He heard Buddy, close by, say, "You might've been a good cop." Foley moved to the bathroom door, a full-length mirror covering it, and tried to turn the knob. The door was locked from the inside. Close to it, his cheek against the glass, Foley said, "Honey, open the door.

It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you. I give you my word."

Silence.

He straightened and saw himself in the mirror wearing the overcoat, the white shirt and tie and the knit cap. He looked stupid. He took the cap off and shoved it in his overcoat pocket.

"Miss? Did you hear me?"

A woman's voice inside, close to the door, said, "Where's Alexander?" sounding fairly calm.

"He's okay."

"Tell him to say something."

"He isn't right here, but he's okay."

"What do you want?"

"Open the door, I'll tell you."

He waited.

"Miss, I can kick the door in. I don't mean to scare you, but you know I can do it." He waited again, looking at Buddy and saw Buddy straighten as they heard the lock click. Foley turned the knob, gave the door a push and let it swing into the bathroom.

The woman stood by the shower stall away from the door not the cute little college girl Foley expected-no, this woman could be forty years old with thick red hair hanging free: a big woman with full breasts that were plain to see in her flimsy bra and low-cut panties, her navel centered in a little pot belly. She looked ready to take a swing at Foley if he approached her.

He said, "You're Alexander's girlfriend?" doubt in his voice, and she confirmed it.

"I work here. I'm the maid."

Buddy moved in closer.

"Is this your room?"

She said, "Does it look like Mr. Ripley's?"

Buddy glanced at Foley.

Foley said, "How long've you worked for him?"

"Why do you want to know that?"

"Tell us where the safe's at," Buddy said, "and we'll leave you alone."

Foley said, "You and Alexander can get back to what you were doing.

What's your name, honI'm not your hon," the woman said.

Foley couldn't imagine her being tender, though she might be all a young guy like Alexander could ask for. He said, "I think you ought to stay in there. Get in the shower and don't make a sound."

She had her hands on her hips now, like no one was going to tell her what to do, saying, "Who do you people think you are?"

Scowling at them.

"You see the others," Foley said, "you'll know we're the good guys. I mean it, hide in the shower, for your own good."

She was asking, "What'd you do with Alexander? Where is he?"

When they heard Kenneth.

"Who's that?"

Before they knew he was in the room: Kenneth coming over to the bathroom with his shotgun, eyes bright in the ski mask, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the redhead in her underwear.

"Hey, shit," Kenneth said, "we gonna have a party."

The phone rang as Karen, in bed, was staring at luminous numbers in the dark: 3:45. She was sure it was Foley. In the moment it took to get up on her elbow and reach for the phone, no other name was in her mind. She said hello and felt a letdown as the woman's voice said, "I'm sorry if I woke you up."

"It's okay," Karen said, "you didn't."

"Reason I'm calling, I need to ask a question."

It was Moselle.

"Go ahead."

"If I know something's gonna happen-like a job is gonna be pulled and I don't tell the police I know about it? Am I, you know, could I be charged for knowing?"

"When is it supposed to happen?"

"See, I knew something this other time when a man was killed and I didn't say nothing?"

"You told me about it. You said a man was blown up."

"That's the one. They said if I told anybody I'd be dead, too.

So I didn't. See, this time I been told the same thing. Only there's a reason I could get mixed up in it, too, and I don't want it to happen."

"Who threatened you, Maurice?" There was a silence.

"If you're withholding information about a crime, yeah, you're comp licit participating in a wrongful act by association. You don't have to actually be there. When is this taking place, tomorrow?"

"Before that. Okay, I've told you and you know I'm not mixed up in it."

"But when is it going to happen?" Karen said, and waited.

"Is Maurice there?"

"He left."

"You're alone?"

"I don't want to say no more than I have."

"Moselle, I'll be there as soon as I can. Will you wait for me, not go anywhere?"

She had hung up.

Karen called Raymond Cruz at his home, woke him up and stared at the clock while they spoke for a minute and a little more. He told her a car with a man from Robbery would be at the hotel by the time she was dressed.

Kenneth walked up to the redheaded maid in the bathroom saying, "What's your name, mama?" She wouldn't tell him, wouldn't say a word till he hooked a finger in the waist of her panties, pulled on the elastic as he looked in there and said, "Hey, shit."

The redheaded maid said, "Get out of there, you creep," and slapped his hand.

Kenneth, grinning at her, said, "Maurice got to see this," and took her by the arm out of the bathroom, past Foley and Buddy like they weren't even there.

"He's gonna jump her," Buddy said.

Foley kept quiet. They followed behind, along the hall to the master bedroom, Kenneth glancing around at them once; they didn't seem to bother him. He took the maid into Ripley's bedroom: the front part like a sitting room, full of fat, cushy chairs and a sofa, all white, everything white or black, a wet bar, a big TV, CD player, the man's king-size bed in there through an archway where Maurice, out of his coveralls, was taking suits and sport coats from the walk-in closet to look them over, drop some on the floor, lay some over a chair.

Alexander was in the sitting room part with White Boy. As Kenneth came in with the maid, Alexander yelled out her name, "Midge!" and started for Kenneth, telling him to leave her alone. Foley got to the doorway in time to see White Boy take Alexander around the neck, rub the kid's scalp with his knuckles until he screamed and throw him on the sofa.

Kenneth had a finger hooked in her panties again, Midge holding on to his wrists, Kenneth saying, like he was making an announcement, "The bitch has a red puss on her. Y'all ever see a red one?"

Foley saw the maid let go of Kenneth's wrist and slap him across the face. Kenneth half turned from her, came back with his fist cocked and threw a left at her, a hook that jarred against the side of her face.

She landed on the sofa, head bouncing against the cushion. Right away, as Foley watched, Alexander edged over to brush her hair from her cheek and take her hand, the woman looking up at Kenneth, stunned.

"I've seen 'em dyed blond on sisters," Maurice said from the other part of the room, "but I don't believe I ever seen a natural red one."

"This boy," Kenneth said, "been squirrelin' the maid, getting himself some house-sitting pussy."

Maurice said to Alexander, "How is she, boy, pretty good?"

Kenneth said, "I think she like to tussle with a man for a change. Get boned a way she gonna remember."

"Not till you done looking," Maurice said.

"Will somebody please find the fucking safe?"