Ransom Game (31 page)
Authors: Howard Engel
“Well, I'll be damned,” said Savas.
“I'll go along with that,” added Pete. I shrugged, since I was only shooting from the lip as usual.
“That's why she mixed up the mail that morning. She couldn't see straight.”
“But what about Rosa?” Staziak wasn't going to let go. “You keep dodging my question. How did you know he was with Knudsen all that time?” Chris looked over at me like I was going to give him a lesson in the fine art of detection at a private party, and for nothing.
“It's a question of sensitivity,” I said, and left it at that.
* * *
Since last Friday, I haven't been to the office more than a half dozen times. There was a card from my mother telling me that the family would be back from Florida on Wednesday. She said that property values in Miami were continuing to soar. The prices of condos read like telephone numbers. She reminded me about watering the plants, which set off a chain-reaction which included Vito, Frank, and Eddie Milano. My cousin, Melvyn, sent me his best regards.
Gloria Jarman didn't get much for her money. Of course, for her there would be no more worries about money. She was in a state of shock about Bob and Helen for a while. I was sorry about her losing the two people closest to her. It seemed like a dirty trick. I got a latenight telephone call from her last night. She'd been drinking, but she said that she's just been invited to show some pictures at the Venice Biennale, which brought a note of excitement to her voice. She tried to give me expense money to pay for the bullet holes in the Olds, but I told her that that happened before I was on the payroll. I didn't argue about the cheque she mailed. It will keep me out of trouble for a few weeks if I stay away from the card tables. Neither could I stop her giving me one of those crazy paintings of hers, one of those dolls with a cracked head and a Victorian smock. I've got it over at the hotel, but I haven't had the nerve to hang it yet.
Frank Bushmill keeps asking about my girl. I guess he doesn't read the papers. I try to avoid meeting him coming up the stairs and I've stopped looking in on him before I go home. Chris and Pete also keep trying to keep me in touch with what's going on, but sometimes I don't bother to answer the phone. I've been watching a lot of television either at the hotel or over at my parents' condominium. I can turn the sound up louder there. It may be good for the plants. Don't ask me what I've been watching. Another couple of weeks' television should do it, and then I won't have the Februaries any more. Bill Hall, the barber, tells me that the month really is going to end and that the almanac promises an early spring.
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