does?”
“You did.”
“Never.”
“I don’t mind if you’re a little kinky. Maybe it even makes you more interesting.”
“Never did that before in my life.”
“A latency. I brought it out.”
“It’s not and you didn’t. Anyway, how come you were right there on cue with the speedboat?”
“I overheard something.”
“What?”
“Your name taken in vain.”
“By whom?”
“Just heard.”
“I don’t buy that.”
“Okay. I take a speedboat ride every morning.”
“Sure you do.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Even on Sundays and holidays, right?”
“Even when there’s no water around.”
There was, Wiley thought, a slim possibility she’d overheard Prentiss or someone else as she’d said. There was really no absolute reason to believe she was involved any more than that. Suspect maybe, but not believe. He asked her straight, “Do you know a guy named Prentiss?”
Her answer was an emphatically honest no.
They had passed through Manzanillo. She turned right on Route 200, headed south. Las Hadas was north of the town. Wiley told her that.
“I know,” she said calmly.
“This is no time for errands, Lillian. I’m bleeding to death.”
“You will for sure if you go back to Las Hadas.”
“Those guys? They wouldn’t try anything there. Too crowded. That’s why they wanted me on that beach.”
No comment from Lillian.
“Besides, Argenti wouldn’t tolerate any trouble. Bad for the image. The last thing they’d want is to annoy such a man.”
Lillian kept driving south.
“Well, what the hell am I supposed to do? All my clothes, passport, everything I own is in that suite.”
“Poor soul.”
He told her about the twelve thousand he had hidden in the lamp base.
“We’ll send for everything,” she assured him.
“Where are we going?”
“Are you really bleeding much?”
He opened the robe to see, used a clean dry part of it to wipe most of the blood away.
“Not so much now,” he said. It occurred to him that if that gun had been fired an eighth of an inch to the left, or if that man in white had pulled the muzzle left to that slight extent, the bullet would have hit him bull’s-eye in the navel. An eighth of an inch wasn’t much to be alive by.
“Put some pressure on it,” she advised.
“To hell.”
“That’ll help stop the bleeding. Poor soul, is it spurting or oozing?”
“More of an ooze.”
“Then let it have air.”
“Where’d you get to be such an expert on blood?”
“I was a visiting nurse.” She smiled to herself as though it were true. “Wiley, do you believe omission is the same as lying?”
“Depends.”
“I don’t. Most times, if you leave things out that would be lies, people put them in, so, in a way, they lie to themselves. That happens to me a lot.”
“You lie to yourself?”
“No. I omit. It’s a sort of habit, I suppose.”
“You haven’t done that with me.”
She reached beneath the seat for a tape cartridge, which she shoved into the player attached below the burled walnut instrument panel. It was The Captain and Tennille:
I’m a woman who’s seen
How the world can be mean
And life can abuse .
But I’m a woman, oh, yeah ,
Who can make you
Feel like a man …
Lillian sang low along with it and the impression Wiley got was the one he wanted: She was singing to him. He gazed out the window, saw a sign that said Colima—3 Km, and a route marker displaying the number 110. He turned to ask again where they were going, but the breath for his words was stopped by the sight of her in profile. Her lips parting and closing. It was as though he’d never before noticed anyone sing. She kept her eyes on the road ahead. What were her thoughts? Was he in them? He wished she would turn and smile his way, say a lot with a smile. She knew he was observing her, didn’t she? Her hands on the polished wood steering wheel, handling the car with easy efficiency. He appreciated her hands, imagined them
“You did.”
“Never.”
“I don’t mind if you’re a little kinky. Maybe it even makes you more interesting.”
“Never did that before in my life.”
“A latency. I brought it out.”
“It’s not and you didn’t. Anyway, how come you were right there on cue with the speedboat?”
“I overheard something.”
“What?”
“Your name taken in vain.”
“By whom?”
“Just heard.”
“I don’t buy that.”
“Okay. I take a speedboat ride every morning.”
“Sure you do.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Even on Sundays and holidays, right?”
“Even when there’s no water around.”
There was, Wiley thought, a slim possibility she’d overheard Prentiss or someone else as she’d said. There was really no absolute reason to believe she was involved any more than that. Suspect maybe, but not believe. He asked her straight, “Do you know a guy named Prentiss?”
Her answer was an emphatically honest no.
They had passed through Manzanillo. She turned right on Route 200, headed south. Las Hadas was north of the town. Wiley told her that.
“I know,” she said calmly.
“This is no time for errands, Lillian. I’m bleeding to death.”
“You will for sure if you go back to Las Hadas.”
“Those guys? They wouldn’t try anything there. Too crowded. That’s why they wanted me on that beach.”
No comment from Lillian.
“Besides, Argenti wouldn’t tolerate any trouble. Bad for the image. The last thing they’d want is to annoy such a man.”
Lillian kept driving south.
“Well, what the hell am I supposed to do? All my clothes, passport, everything I own is in that suite.”
“Poor soul.”
He told her about the twelve thousand he had hidden in the lamp base.
“We’ll send for everything,” she assured him.
“Where are we going?”
“Are you really bleeding much?”
He opened the robe to see, used a clean dry part of it to wipe most of the blood away.
“Not so much now,” he said. It occurred to him that if that gun had been fired an eighth of an inch to the left, or if that man in white had pulled the muzzle left to that slight extent, the bullet would have hit him bull’s-eye in the navel. An eighth of an inch wasn’t much to be alive by.
“Put some pressure on it,” she advised.
“To hell.”
“That’ll help stop the bleeding. Poor soul, is it spurting or oozing?”
“More of an ooze.”
“Then let it have air.”
“Where’d you get to be such an expert on blood?”
“I was a visiting nurse.” She smiled to herself as though it were true. “Wiley, do you believe omission is the same as lying?”
“Depends.”
“I don’t. Most times, if you leave things out that would be lies, people put them in, so, in a way, they lie to themselves. That happens to me a lot.”
“You lie to yourself?”
“No. I omit. It’s a sort of habit, I suppose.”
“You haven’t done that with me.”
She reached beneath the seat for a tape cartridge, which she shoved into the player attached below the burled walnut instrument panel. It was The Captain and Tennille:
I’m a woman who’s seen
How the world can be mean
And life can abuse .
But I’m a woman, oh, yeah ,
Who can make you
Feel like a man …
Lillian sang low along with it and the impression Wiley got was the one he wanted: She was singing to him. He gazed out the window, saw a sign that said Colima—3 Km, and a route marker displaying the number 110. He turned to ask again where they were going, but the breath for his words was stopped by the sight of her in profile. Her lips parting and closing. It was as though he’d never before noticed anyone sing. She kept her eyes on the road ahead. What were her thoughts? Was he in them? He wished she would turn and smile his way, say a lot with a smile. She knew he was observing her, didn’t she? Her hands on the polished wood steering wheel, handling the car with easy efficiency. He appreciated her hands, imagined them
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