Sue Grafton - L is for Lawless

Ray's expression was soft, looking at Laura. "It's okay, hon. Go ahead and do what he says. Let's see if we can keep everybody on an even keel here."

Gilbert smiled. "My thoughts exactly. Everybody take it easy. I want his ankles taped to the chair legs. And let's get his hands behind him, bind 'em up nice. I'm going to check on you, so don't you be thinking you can pretend to tape him up and then not do it right. I hate when people try to fool me. You know how I am. Blow your nose and quit sniveling."

Laura fumbled in her pocket, took out a tissue, and did as he said. She tucked the tissue away and pulled out a strip of tape, the adhesive making a ripping sound as she tore it loose. She began to wrap the tape around Ray's right ankle, first folding his pant leg against his shin, then threading the tape around the chair leg in several layers.

"I want that tight. You don't get it tight enough, I'm going to shoot him in the leg."

"I am!" She flashed a look at Gilbert, and for a moment there was pure fury in her eyes instead of fear.

He seemed to like it that he'd gotten a rise out of her. A slight smile crossed his face. "What's that look for?"

"Where's Farley?" she said darkly.

"Oh, him. I left him in California. What a worthless sack of shit he turned into. All the mewling and pissing. I really hate that stuff. Here's the long and short of it: The man ratted you out. It's the truth. He gave you up. Farley told me everything, trying to save his own skin. I do not admire that. I think it sucks." He edged over to the chair where Ray was sitting. He kept a close eye on all of us, making sure no one moved while he squatted by the chair and checked the tape. He got up, apparently satisfied with the job she was doing. "When you get done with him, you can do her," he said, meaning me.

She ripped off another length of tape and began to secure Ray's left leg to the chair rung. "What'd you do to him?" she asked.

Gilbert stood upright again, backing off two steps. "What I did? We're not talking about what I did. I didn't do anything. It's what you did. You betrayed me, babe. How many times I told you about that? You just never learn, do you? I try – God knows I try – to let you know what I expect."

"Farley's dead?"

"Yes, he is," Gilbert said solemnly. "I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you."

"He was your nephew. Your own flesh and blood."

"What's that got to do with it? That doesn't cut any ice. Flesh and blood don't mean bullshit. It's about loyalty. Is that simple concept so hard for you to grasp? Listen, I want to tell you something. You can't blame this on me. Anybody gets hurt, it's on your head, not mine. How many times I told you, you have to do what I say. You're not going to obey me, then I can't be responsible."

"I'm doing what you said. In what way am I not doing what you said?"

"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about the money. I'm talking about Rio. Now see? Right there. You didn't fly to Rio like you were supposed to, and look what went wrong as a consequence of your behavior. Farley… well, never mind. I think we said enough about him."

Helen spoke up. Like me, she'd been standing there doggedly with her hands in the air. "Young man. I wonder if I could take this coat off and set down."

Gilbert frowned, irritated at the interruption. It was clear he enjoyed getting all worked up, feeling righteous, expounding on the many ways someone else was at fault. Helen wasn't looking at him. Her gaze was fixed at a point to his right, where she was obviously mistaking the doorjamb for him. Gilbert was momentarily distracted, amused by her mistake. He waved his arms. "Hey, over here, sweetheart. You must not see all that good. You've mistook me for a coat rack."

"I see well enough. It's my feet give out," she said. "I'm eighty-five years old."

"Is that right? Arms getting tired, is that it?"

Helen said nothing. Her rheumy gaze was wandering. I kept scanning the room, looking for a weapon, trying to form a plan. I didn't want to put the others in any more jeopardy. His intentions seemed clear enough. One by one, we'd be bound and gagged, at which point he was going to kill us, and what could we do? I was closer to him than Laura was, but if I tried to jump him, he might go berserk and start shooting. I had to do something soon, but I didn't want to be foolhardy… acting like a heroine when it might put us in a worse situation than we were already in.

"I'm going to set. You can shoot me if you don't like it," Helen said.

Gilbert gestured with the gun. "Take a seat right where you are. You can put your hands down for now, but don't touch anything on the table."

She said, "Thank you." She braced her hands on the table and sank heavily in her chair. She shrugged out of her coat. I could see her flex her fingers gingerly, coaxing the circulation before she tucked them in her lap.

Gilbert angled himself so he could monitor Laura's progress as she bound her father's hands with tape. Ray's arms were behind him. In order to have his wrists meet behind the wooden chair back, he had to lean forward slightly and force his shoulders into a roll.

Gilbert seemed to enjoy Ray's discomfort. "Where's the harness?" he asked Laura.

"In the other room."

"When you get done with that, bring it out here and let's see what we got."

"I thought you said tape her."

"Get the harness, then tape her, you fuckin' idjit," he said.

"There's only eight thousand dollars. You said a million," she said irritably. She set the roll of duct tape aside and moved into the other room. Personally, I wouldn't have dared to take that tone with him. Gilbert didn't seem surprised about the money, so I had to assume Farley'd told him about the eight grand along with everything else.

Laura returned with the harness in hand. He took it from her, hefting it up onto the counter behind him. He glanced down at the contents, taking in the packets of bills. His gaze shifted to Ray. "Where's the rest of the money? Where's all the jewelry and the coin collections?"

"I don't know. I really can't swear there's anything left," Ray said.

Gilbert closed his eyes, his patience wearing thin. "Ray, I was there, remember? I helped you guys, hauling out all that cash and jewelry. What about the diamonds and the coins? There was a fortune in there, must have been two million, at least, and Johnny sure as shit didn't have it on him when he was caught."

"Hey, not to argue, but you were seventeen years old. None of us had ever seen a million bucks, let alone two. We don't really have any idea how much it was because we never had a chance to count it, and that's the truth," Ray said.

"There was a hell of a lot more than this. Seven or eight big bags. That loot didn't just disappear into thin air. The son of a bitch must have hid it. So where'd he put it?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. That's why I'm here. See if I can figure it out."

"He didn't tell you?"

"I swear to God he didn't. He knew he could trust himself, but I guess he wasn't all that sure about me."

I spoke up then, looking at Ray. "How do you know he didn't spend it?"

"It's always possible," he said. "I know he sent money to my ma. That was our agreement up front."

"He did what?" Gilbert said. He turned to Helen. "Is that right?"

"Oh my, yes," she said complacently. "I've received a money order in the amount of five hundred dollars every month since nineteen and forty-four, though it did stop some months back. July or August, as I recollect."

"Since 1944? I don't believe it. How much did he send? Five hundred a month? That's ridiculous," Gilbert said.

"Two hundred forty-six thousand dollars," Ray interjected. "I took high school math up at FCI Ashland. You ought to try the joint yourself, Gilbert. Improve your grasp of the basics. Vocabulary, grammar…"