Donald Westlake - Two Much!

She’d finished writing, Rrrip came a check out of the checkbook, and she leaned forward to float it like an aircraft carrier onto my desk. “That’s extra,” she said. “In addition to everything in the contract, just an extra little wedding present. To make up for the inconvenience.”

Have you ever tried not to look at a check someone has just tossed on your desk? This one had a straight slash at the beginning of the number and then an awful lot of circles. It had a 1, and a 0, and a comma, and another 0, and another 0, and another 0, and a period, and still another 0, and then one final 0, and that was it.

Ten thousand dollars.

The mice ate through the ropes. The nibbled lengths fell to the deck, and oh, the sirens sang so sweetly.

Liz knew she had me. She didn’t wait for me to say anything, she simply put the checkbook and pen away and got to her feet. “It’s ten-thirty,” she said. “I’ll have a car out front for you in an hour.” She started toward the door.

My hand rested gently, palm down, on the check. I could feel those zeroes against my flesh. “Wait,” I said.

She stopped in the doorway and looked back at me, ready for anything. “Yes?”

“Make it an Alfa Romeo,” I said.

Conversations:

“Kairnair rezeedonce.”

“Hello, Nikki, this is Bart Dodge. Could I speak with Betty, please?”

“One moment, pleeze.”

nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

“Hello, Bart?”

“Betty?”

“Bart, is this important? I was just rushing out to lunch, I’m meeting Dede at Bonwit’s, she’s in town for the day and—”

“It’s important, Betty.”

“Bart? Is something wrong?”

“I have to ask you a couple questions, Betty.”

“Bart, you sound so serious. What is it, darling, what’s the trouble?”

“I’ve just had a long talk with Art. He told me some things. I just don’t know what to make of it.”

“Have you two boys been fighting again? Has he been saying things to try to hurt you, sweetheart? Don’t listen to things people say in anger, darling.”

“He told me some things about you, Betty.”

“About me? I have no idea what your brother could possibly find to say about me, in fact I don’t even want to hear it, but surely you can see that things a person says in the heat of anger don’t—”

“I have to ask you about them, Betty. You can see that, can’t you, I do have to know.”

“Well, I’ll simply deny everything categorically, even before I hear it. What on earth could your brother know about me, we’ve hardly ever even seen one another, if he wasn’t your identical twin I doubt I’d even recognize him on the street. I think it’s very cruel of you to listen to malicious gossip against me. We’ve only been married eight days, and already you’re doubting me, you’re—”

“About the taxes, Betty.”

“You’re — the what?”

“Taxes.”

“Taxes?”

“Art says you married me because you have to be married by the end of the year for tax reasons.”

“This is about taxes ? You wanted to talk about taxes ?”

“Is it true, Betty?”

“Oh, ha ha ha ha ha. Oh ho , ha ha ha ha ha hau ha.”

“Betty, this is serious. I have to know.”

“Oh, ha ha, I know you do, ha ha, my darling. Oh, you sweet man, I could hug you and kiss you and eat you all up.”

“Is it true? About the taxes, is it true?”

“That I’ll save money if I’m a married lady? Yes, it is, sweetheart, absolutely true.”

(Hurt silence.)

“Bart, dear?”

“I see.”

“But sweetheart, that isn’t why I married you. I married you because I love you, darling. You swept me off my feet, it was a whirlwind romance, I’ve never been happier in my life than I am right now, and the money doesn’t have a thing to do with it.”

“Then why didn’t you ever tell me about it?”

“I was afraid to, dear.”

“Afraid to? Why?”

“I didn’t want you to think — ha ha — you know, that I was marrying you for my money.”

“Are you sure, Betty?”

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t you remember this morning?”

“Sure I remem—”

“And last night?”

“Yeah, I re—”

“And yesterday morning?”

“I remember it all , Betty.”

“Then how can you doubt me? Sweetheart, we’ll talk about it at dinner, but right now I really must rush, Dede’s waiting for me at—”

“But what about the lawsuit?”

“What about the what, dear?”

“You and your sister are suing each other for control of the Kerner businesses, and it’s important in the lawsuit that you be married.”

“Did Art say that, too?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Just where does he get all this information?”

“From Liz, I suppose. And I guess it’s true, isn’t it?”

“Darling, husbands and wives all over the country are a financial help to one another: they file joint income tax returns, they put businesses in one another’s name, they do all sorts of money things for one another, but that doesn’t mean they don’t love one another.”

“The question is, why didn’t you tell me about all this? The taxes, and the lawsuit. Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do, my darling. I just didn’t want you to worry, that’s all. I didn’t want you to get the suspicions in your mind that you have right now. This is what I’ve been trying to avoid.”

“By lying to me.”

“I didn’t lie to you, sweetheart, I just didn’t tell you every last single bit of the truth. And that’s only because I’m so in love with you.”

“Then why did you go to bed with Art?”

(Stunned silence. But stunned.)

“I’m sorry, Betty, I don’t think I can go on like this.”

“Buh-Bart—”

“It’s too late to deny it. Art told me everything, he told me... details, he told me things he couldn’t have known if it wasn’t true.”

“Um. Bart, dear.”

“The taxes, and then the lawsuit, and then this.”

“Darling. Bart, please listen to me for a minute.”

“You have to meet Dede at Bonwit’s.”

“Bart, I’ve been wrong. Yes, that did happen, what you said, what Art said. But I swear it wouldn’t have happened if he didn’t look so much like you.”

“Oh, Betty, for—”

“It’s true, darling, dearest. But oh, when we got to bed, I regretted it. He isn’t a bit like you, he doesn’t know how to make a woman feel like a woman. Not the way you do.”

“You mean I’m better, huh?”

“Darling, let’s start over again, brand new. We can still make it, I know we can.”

“I’m sorry, Betty.”

“Bart, what are you going to do?”

“I have to be by myself for a while, I have to think things out.”

“Oh, my darling, it kills me to have hurt you this way.”

“I’ll... I’ll call you in a day or two.”

“Yes, Bart. Bart?”

“Yes?”

“Always remember, dearest, I do love you.”

(Pregnant silence.)

“Bart? Darling?”

“I’ll call you in a day or two.”

Buzz.

“Yes?”

“A Mrs. Ralph Minck on the line.”

“Tell her I’ve joined the Trappist monks.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Lo?”

“Feeney?”

“Yeah?”

“This is your landlord speaking.”

“Oh, hi, Art, how ya dune?”

“Next Monday is Labor Day, Feeney.”

“Oh yeah. I’ll be outa here by then, don’t worry. I’m packin’ already.”

“You’ll be returning to Cornell, Feeney?”

“Yeah, man.”

“That’s wonderful. Feeney, do you know a bar in Ithaca named O’Hanahee’s?”