refrigerator. Hardly any food in there, the woman getting by day to day. Orange juice, Perrier, half a loaf of bread. Some cheese turning green. Some of those little cups of nonfat yogurt with fruit in it, the woman watching her weight. He didn't see she needed to worry about getting fat, she had a fine body on her. One he'd wanted to see but couldn't ever get her in a mood to show to him. He'd touch her, tell her, man, she was fine and she'd look at him like . . . not stuck-up exactly, more like it was too much trouble to get it on and she had her laundry to do. Maybe tonight if she came in scared and saw she had to please him . . .
Yeah, it should be dark. Ordell turned the light out in the kitchen, took his drink to the living room to sit down on the sofa again, and switched off the lamp.
He waited.
Finished the drink and waited some more.
At least it was comfortable. He felt himself starting to doze off, eyelids getting heavy . . . eyes opening then, quick, Ordell full awake hearing her key in the lock, Jackie home at last. There she was now in the light coming through from the balcony, her bag hanging from her shoulders, trying to remember-look at her-if she had closed the drapes or left them open. Slipping her keys in the bag now . . .
Ordell said, "How you doing, Ms. Jackie?"
She didn't move, so he got up and went over to her, seeing her face now, no color to it in this light. He came up close and put his hands on the round part of her arms below her shoulders. "You looking fine this evening. You gonna thank me?"
"For what?"
"Who you think got you out of jail?"
"The same guy who put me in. Thanks a lot."
"Hey, you get caught with blow, that's your business."
"It wasn't mine."
Not sounding mean, looking straight in his eyes, like to say it was his fault. Ordell had to stop and think. He said, "Hey, shit, I bet it was the present Mr. Walker was sending Melanie. Yeaaah, he's the one musta put it in there if you didn't. Hey, I'm sorry that happened. I 'magine they asked you all kind of questions about it, huh? And about all that money? Want to know where you got it?"
She didn't answer him.
"Who you giving it to? All that, huh?"
"They asked."
"And what did you tell them?"
"I said I wanted a lawyer."
"Didn't let nothing slip?"
She said to his face, "You're not asking the right question."
Ordell's hands moved up to rest on her shoulders. He said, "I'm not?" feeling her body there under her jacket and the strap of her bag, thin little bones he rubbed with his fingers.
She said to him, "Ask why I was picked up."
"Dog didn't sniff your bag?"
"They didn't need a dog. They knew about the money, the exact amount."
"They tell you how they found out?"
"They asked if I knew Mr. Walker."
"Yeah? . . ."
"I didn't tell them anything."
"My name come up?"
He watched her head go side to side but didn't feel the bones move. His thumbs brushed her collarbone, the tips of his fingers touched her neck, caressed the skin, Ordell seeing how lightly he could touch her, not wanting her to move, try to run, and maybe scream. Her eyes never blinked.
"Say they know about Mr. Walker. Who else?"
It made her hesitate before she said, "The Jamaican, Beaumont."
"What'd they say about him?"
"They'd spoken to him in jail."
Ordell nodded. He'd had that right. "You know what happen to him?"
"They told me."
"Yeah, somebody musta been mad at Beaumont, or got worried about him facing time. You understand what I'm saying? Somebody knowing what he might tell not to get sent away. I suppose they give you all kind of shit then about what they know. Get you thinking you may as well tell what you know, huh?"
Her head went just a little bit side to side.
He brought his thumbs from her collarbone up to her throat and her shoulder with the strap on it moved like she meant to twist away from him, but he held on to her and felt the shoulder ease back. He liked the way she was trying to act cool,
Yeah, it should be dark. Ordell turned the light out in the kitchen, took his drink to the living room to sit down on the sofa again, and switched off the lamp.
He waited.
Finished the drink and waited some more.
At least it was comfortable. He felt himself starting to doze off, eyelids getting heavy . . . eyes opening then, quick, Ordell full awake hearing her key in the lock, Jackie home at last. There she was now in the light coming through from the balcony, her bag hanging from her shoulders, trying to remember-look at her-if she had closed the drapes or left them open. Slipping her keys in the bag now . . .
Ordell said, "How you doing, Ms. Jackie?"
She didn't move, so he got up and went over to her, seeing her face now, no color to it in this light. He came up close and put his hands on the round part of her arms below her shoulders. "You looking fine this evening. You gonna thank me?"
"For what?"
"Who you think got you out of jail?"
"The same guy who put me in. Thanks a lot."
"Hey, you get caught with blow, that's your business."
"It wasn't mine."
Not sounding mean, looking straight in his eyes, like to say it was his fault. Ordell had to stop and think. He said, "Hey, shit, I bet it was the present Mr. Walker was sending Melanie. Yeaaah, he's the one musta put it in there if you didn't. Hey, I'm sorry that happened. I 'magine they asked you all kind of questions about it, huh? And about all that money? Want to know where you got it?"
She didn't answer him.
"Who you giving it to? All that, huh?"
"They asked."
"And what did you tell them?"
"I said I wanted a lawyer."
"Didn't let nothing slip?"
She said to his face, "You're not asking the right question."
Ordell's hands moved up to rest on her shoulders. He said, "I'm not?" feeling her body there under her jacket and the strap of her bag, thin little bones he rubbed with his fingers.
She said to him, "Ask why I was picked up."
"Dog didn't sniff your bag?"
"They didn't need a dog. They knew about the money, the exact amount."
"They tell you how they found out?"
"They asked if I knew Mr. Walker."
"Yeah? . . ."
"I didn't tell them anything."
"My name come up?"
He watched her head go side to side but didn't feel the bones move. His thumbs brushed her collarbone, the tips of his fingers touched her neck, caressed the skin, Ordell seeing how lightly he could touch her, not wanting her to move, try to run, and maybe scream. Her eyes never blinked.
"Say they know about Mr. Walker. Who else?"
It made her hesitate before she said, "The Jamaican, Beaumont."
"What'd they say about him?"
"They'd spoken to him in jail."
Ordell nodded. He'd had that right. "You know what happen to him?"
"They told me."
"Yeah, somebody musta been mad at Beaumont, or got worried about him facing time. You understand what I'm saying? Somebody knowing what he might tell not to get sent away. I suppose they give you all kind of shit then about what they know. Get you thinking you may as well tell what you know, huh?"
Her head went just a little bit side to side.
He brought his thumbs from her collarbone up to her throat and her shoulder with the strap on it moved like she meant to twist away from him, but he held on to her and felt the shoulder ease back. He liked the way she was trying to act cool,
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