Bill Pronzini - The Crimes of Jordan Wise

"I'm all through with that kind of thing," I said. "What I have to say I think you're going to want to hear."

"And that is?"

"When I see you."

She sighed. "Oh, all right. Tomorrow night at Perry's, after work."

"No," I said. "It has to be your apartment or mine."

"Why? Why are you being so mysterious?"

"I'm not. This talk has to be in person and in private. You'll understand why when you hear it."

"I don't know . . ."

"One hour. You can stop me any time, and I'll leave you alone and never bother you again."

"You mean that?"

"I swear it."

Annalise gave in finally. She'd be home tomorrow night, she said, I could come by for a few minutes then. I said I'd be there at seven.

"You'd better not make me regret this, Jordan."

"If anybody regrets it," I said, "it'll be me."

She wasn't wearing white this time. Blue jeans, an old blue sweater, floppy slippers. Face scrubbed free of makeup, hair tousled. A large glass of white wine in one hand and a flush to her skin and shine to her eyes that told me at least two other glasses had preceded it. All a calculated effort, I was sure, to make herself appear unattractive to me. It didn't work. She could have been caked with dirt and wearing a sack and I still would have wanted her.

Music throbbed through the apartment, the kind of heavy rock I'd told her I didn't much care for. That was intentional, too. She didn't look at me directly when she let me in, didn't ask if I wanted a drink. Just went straight to one of the chairs and sat down. The chair was separated from the other furniture, so that I couldn't sit next to her if that was my intention.

It wasn't. I sat on the couch across from her. "Could you turn the music down a little?"

"It's not that loud."

"It is for what I have to say."

She shrugged and got up to lower the volume on her stereo. When she came back to the chair, she looked at me directly for the first time and what she saw seemed to surprise her. "You look . . . different," she said.

"I am different," I said. "That's why I'm here."

"Well, go ahead, then. I'm listening."

I had already worked out the best approach to take, and on the basis of what she'd told me at Perry's I was reasonably sure I knew how she'd react. But I could have been wrong. People are seldom as predictable as they seem to be; I was living proof of that. It depended on how much she cared for me, if she still cared for me at all, and on just how much larcency there was in her. If she took it badly and sent me packing, I would have to admit she was lost to me and learn to deal with it. And scrap the entire scheme, or revise it to exclude her. To this day, I'm not sure which I would've done.

I said, "The last time we saw each other, you said you were fond of me. Did you mean that?"

"Of course I meant it. I don't say things I don't mean."

"How fond?"

"I can't answer that. Fond is fond."

"Fond enough to be with me if I could give you money, luxury, travel, excitement?"

"Be with you?"

"Long-term. Exclusively."

"Oh, God, I don't know. What difference does it make?"

"Answer the question, Annalise."

I said it sharply, more sharply than I'd ever spoken to her. She narrowed her eyes and bit her lip before she said, "I don't love you the way you love me, you know that. I don't know that I ever could."

"But you could try. Given the right circumstances."

"Will it make you feel better if I say yes?"

"If you mean it."

"All right. Yes, I could be with you. It just isn't possible."

"It is possible."

"I don't see how."

"You said you'd didn't care what you had to do to get the things you want, as long as you got them. Did you mean that?"

"I meant it."

"What would you do for more than half a million dollars?"

Her mouth came open. "Did you say . . . half a million?"

"More. Enough to keep both of us in style for the rest of our lives."

"My God," she said.

"Would you go away with me?"

"Go away where?"

"Anywhere a long way from here. The tropics. Tahiti, the Caribbean." She was interested by this time. Puzzled, wary, but definitely interested. Leaning forward in the chair, the tip of her tongue moving back and forth over her upper lip. "If you had that much money . . . yes, I'd go away with you."

"Would you wait twelve to fifteen months for the opportunity?"

"Why so long?"

"It's necessary. No more than fifteen months."

"I'd wait longer," Annalise said. "I've waited for something like that all my life."

"Would you make an unbreakable commitment to me during that year?"

"What do you mean, unbreakable commitment?"

"I'm not talking about dating. In fact, I'd want you to keep on seeing other men."

"I don't understand."

"You will. What I mean is a commitment of trust. Mutual trust. Yours would be to trust me to make all the decisions and to do exactly as I say without question."

"As long as I knew what was happening and I had input into where we'd go to live."

"You'll know. And we'll decide together on the destination."

"Then yes. I'd do anything you told me to."

"Would you marry me?"

Her expression changed. She said, "Oh, shit, Jordan. Is that what this is all about? Some devious way of proposing?"

"No. It's part of the larger proposal, another necessary part."

"How can marriage be necessary?"

"In order to make the rest of it work."

"The rest of what? Can't you get to the point?"

"I am getting to it. Just answer the question: would you marry me for more than half a million dollars and a brand-new life?"

"Yes." Without hesitation.

"Would you become an accessory to a major crime?"

Long stare. "What kind of crime? What have you done?"

"I haven't done anything yet."

"What are you thinking of doing?"

"I've as much as told you," I said. "Commit a major crime for all that money."

"Steal half a million dollars?"

"Yes."

"For God's sake, how? Not with a gun or anything like that?"

"Absolutely not. No violence of any kind."

"Then how?"

"I have a plan. A detailed, mostly risk-free plan."

" . . . You're serious, aren't you."

"Very serious. Dead serious."

She emptied her glass, got up and went to a sideboard to refill it.

I said, "Do you want to hear the rest of it?"

"Yes."

When she sat down again she looked at me in a new way, with a kind of awe, as if she were seeing me for the first time. Her face was flushed, but now it wasn't all the result of the wine. What I'd told her so far hadn't turned her off; she'd taken it just as I'd hoped she would. Excited, eager. Hooked. I could see it in her eyes.

"Half a million dollars," she said. "You really think you can get your hands on that much money?"

"I know I can. That's the easy part. The hard part is getting away with it, disappearing without a trace."

"And you know how to do that?"

"Yes. I can get the money on my own, but I can't do the rest without help. Your help. There's no other way."

She was too restless to sit still; she got up again and paced the room, taking sips of wine, thinking about it. After a time she said, "We'd go to prison if we were cought. I couldn't stand to be locked up."

"I won't lie to you," I said. "Something could go wrong. But I don't believe it will. Not the way I have it worked out."

"Famous last words."

"The risk to you is much less than it is to me. Even if we were cought, you wouldn't know the details of the theft because I won't reveal them to you; you could plead ignorance and I'd back you up, swear you had no prior knowledge that I was going to commit a crime. The most you'd be charged with is aiding and abetting. A good lawyer would probably be able to get you off with a suspended sentence."