by P. N. Elrod
What will you do with me?
I’d felt the same almost a year back when walking into Escott’s office for the first time. He’d had my fate in his hands, and no clue from me on whether or not I’d fight him for it. Malone would not fight, not for himself, anyway.
“Get any sleep?” I asked.
Tic. “Yes, quite a lot actually.”
“Well, it was a long night; you needed it. I never thanked you for all the help. You remember much?”
“The last part vividly. For a while I thought you were going to kill them.”
“Huh. They probably wish they were dead by now.” The two of them would likely be very sick for the next few weeks. I hoped they’d have the sense to see a doctor, though there were probably things growing in that muck of which medical science had never heard. They could expect dysentery at the least, maybe lockjaw unless they got some shots… oh, yes, there were lots of grim possibilities.
“What happened between you?” he asked.
“Nevis got pushy, and Upshaw got stupid. I have a short fuse with those types.”
He couldn’t take more social chat. He drew a deep breath, about to plunge to the heart of the matter, but held off as I raised my hand, palm out.
“I know, I know. There’s some things we need to clear up.”
“I’m—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lie to you about myself, about who I am.”
I shrugged. “It’s over, and I understand why. But I think you’ll understand that I have to let you go.”
“I expected that, but what about the—”
Before he could say “cops” I waved him down again. “Knowing what we both know, I doubt if we’d ever be comfortable working together again. However, I’ve written you out a good reference. I fibbed on the dates so it looks like you had a steady job here for a long time, but no one is too likely to notice.” So saying, I handed him an envelope.
He didn’t move, just blinked, not comprehending. “I d-don’t—don’t—”
“Malone or Tielli or whatever the hell you want to call yourself, I can’t judge you. I’ve done things I’m not proud of. I can’t undo them, but for the life of me I don’t think I would given the chance.
“You’re a good man. You did what you thought you had to do. What you did was wrong, but I might have done exactly the same thing. I heard two wrongs don’t make a right, but there are times when it just doesn’t apply.”
He bowed his head, releasing a long sigh that wavered close to weeping.
“I did a lot of thinking about this. You asked me last night to protect Norrie. After mulling it over I concluded the best way to carry that out is keep you two together. She’s had everything taken away from her once in her life, that’s too much for anyone. I’m not going to be the one to do that to her again.”
“Dear God.” That’s all that came out of him for a while. I waited until he fumbled for a handkerchief and blew his nose.
“You’ll be doing me a favor,” I continued. “I’m rotten with kids. The kind of life I got I wouldn’t be able to watch out for her like I should. She needs a father. That’s you. That’s your job; I sure as hell don’t want it. And it would be a good idea for you both to get out of town.”
He took the suggestion without surprise, leading me to suspect he’d been considering it himself. “I suppose that would be for the best. It’d be foolish to stay here with all that’s happened.”
“What you should do,” I said, leaning back in my chair, “is head out to California.”
“But I don’t know anyone there.”
“Count that in your favor. You don’t want to know anyone.”
A very small hint of a smile almost made it to his features, but turned into that tic again. Maybe if once he got out from under things, had some control over his fate, he’d relax.
“It’s a good place to be, I hear. Orange trees right in your front yard, maybe you can open up another store, work for yourself for a change. Be around for your kid when she’s out of school. They got some good schools there, colleges, universities. I don’t know how they are about architect majors, but you’ve got plenty of time to figure that out before she’s ready.”
It was a good picture. He obviously liked it. “Thank you. I’ll get us out there. She can start the new school term—”
“Ah, there’s just one little thing.”
He shut his eyes, swallowed. Bracing.
“That problem I had with Nevis also had to do with Lena—Helen. I’ll call her Lena. It seems she was a bit light-fingered with him when it came to her job. Now he didn’t mind it at the time, but when he found out exactly how much was involved over the years he got itchy about it. The way I see things, if he didn’t mind at the time, he shouldn’t mind later, the later being now.”
Malone blinked, desperately trying to follow.
“Doesn’t matter, you don’t need to know the details. What I’m saying is that Lena built up a sweet nest egg for herself. I happened to find it. I told myself then that it would only be fair to give it over to her family—providing she had one. The money should go to her daughter, but I don’t know how you’d feel about accepting it, considering the source.”
“It does present a moral perplexity,” he admitted after thinking a bit. “It would never make up for the wrong Helen did, but it might alleviate some of the hardship that resulted from that wrong.”
“I was hoping you’d be smart about it.” I pulled a fat manila envelope from my jacket pocket and laid it before him on the desk.
His eyes got big. “Goodness, how much is there?”
“Enough to get you to California. You need to put a chunk of that in a savings account for Norrie’s college, you know. There’s also the tax problem, but I can tell you how to get around those declarations. You’re gonna get real lucky at the track for the next few days.”
“Thank you, Mr. Fleming.”
“You can call me Jack, now. You’re resigned, remember?”
“Yes, Jack. I don’t know what to say. I owe you my life, Norrie’s life.”
“Just make sure she grows up pretty; she’s already got the smarts.”
He hesitantly reached for the envelope and peered inside. “Oh, my God. How much is here?”
I told him.
Then I had a bad few moments dealing with things when he tumbled forward in a dead faint.
What with Malone and a lengthy visit with Bobbi I got back late. Escott was home by then, still awake, and in the parlor with a stack of papers. He still wore what I knew to be his best suit and his shave was good for another few hours, but he had his shoes off, his feet up.
“Have a good date?” I asked.
He had his nose buried in an article about some woman trying to fly around the world. It reminded me of Nevis. He wouldn’t be flying for a long time. “Yes. Miss LaBelle is quite pleasant company.”
“When she’s not speaking for ghosts?”
“Indeed.”
I wanted to ask more, but he was a gentleman and gentlemen don’t talk.
“The reviews are over there,” he said, pointing to a stack of newsprint on the table. “They seem most favorable.”
I’d read them all at Bobbi’s. She’d been almost as excited as if it had been her club. We went to the Nightcrawler to celebrate with Gordy and Adelle, then I took her to dinner, and then… well, a gentleman doesn’t talk.
“Thanks. I’ll have to get a scrapbook.”
He looked over the edge of the paper. “Is there something wrong?”
“Just a small problem. Might not come to anything if I can hire someone in time for next Friday.”
“And just what do you define as being a small problem?” he asked warily.
“As of tonight, I’m short one general manager.”
“Really? I thought Mr. Malone was doing an excellent job.”
“He was, but there’s been a death in the family. He’s going to have to leave town. There’s some kind of inheritance involved, so I don’
t expect him back.”
“Dear me, that does rather leave you in the lurch… oh, Jack, you don’t mean to say—”
I shrugged, all apologetic. “I know. It’s an imposition. But if I can find someone else in time, you won’t have anything to worry about.”
He made curmudgeonly noises.
“Seriously, it’d be a real favor to me if you could fill in.”
“Oh, God.”
“Just to open the joint and watch things until I’m up and awake and can take over. I’ll be more than glad to pay for your time.”
He muttered deep in his throat.
“There’s one other thing—I’ve hired Miss LaBelle to play Lady Crymsyn for the rest of the month. She’ll be there every night.”
That put a new face on it for him.
We worked out the details and shook on it.
He snorted, though. “I had a dreadful feeling that it would eventually come to this—me working for you.”
I had the good grace not to say anything.
