felt the warmth and intensity of her embrace. I stroked the side of her face, let my hand trail lingeringly down the front of her fine body. Then I tensed up and let go of her and forced myself to step back. “I’ll call you,” I said softly. I let go of her hand and she turned into the house and closed the door and I went back to my place and tried to sleep. It wasn’t easy. I thought about two girls, a girl named Joyce and a girl named Barbara. I thought about two ways of life, a life of back rooms and fast action, a life of hard honest work and straight living. Dangerous thoughts for a man called Wizard.
I made more calls Wednesday, two to Murray’s office, one to the Glade. I made them automatically, working like a programmed computer, speaking automatic words in my two mechanical fake voices. I left work early that day for my apartment. I took out the three onionskin copies I had typed up in Murray’s office and read them through. The second one had Thursday’s date at the top—tomorrow.
I took my Milani costume from the closet, spread it out on the bed. I looked at the snap-brim hat, the shabby suit, the loud and food-stained tie. I read through the letters again. Then I picked up the phone and dialed a number.
She answered it herself.
“Bill,” I said.
“I’ve been wishing you would call,” Joyce said. “I wanted to talk to you but I didn’t know when it would be safe. How is it going, Wizard?”
“It’s going all right.”
“Tell me about it.”
I lit a cigarette first. I took a deep drag, held the smoke in my lungs until I was slightly dizzy.
“Listen,” I said.
She waited.
“I don’t want to go through with it,” I said. “I don’t want to job the guy. I want to call it off.”
10
“No,” she said. “You’re not going to do this to me, Wizard.”
“Joyce—”
“You can’t weasel out. It’s all set up and we’re going to push it through. You can’t change your mind now.
We weren’t talking on the phone now. We had talked on the phone just long enough for her to be sure I wasn’t kidding. Now we were in my living room and her Caddy was parked at the curb in front. She was standing in front of me and her eyes were angry. I asked her if she wanted a drink. She said she didn’t. I made one for myself and she changed her mind and I made one for her. We sat at opposite ends of my living room couch and sipped scotch.
“Wizard?”
I met her gaze. She was angry now, and slightly desperate, and the combination of anger and desperation had deepened the lines at the corners of her mouth and pointed up the hardness of her face. And yet somehow her beauty was more striking than ever. My mind did what minds have a tendency to do, erected a little balance scale and put her on one side and Barb on the other. The contrast was vivid. Barb was soft and gentle, steady and sure, a good long-term investment. The other was fire and fury and handle-with-care, a much greater risk. And much more exciting.
“What changed your mind, Wizard? You were all ready to go, all set to job Murray and get the money and take me the hell out of this rotten town. What turned you off?”
“Things.”
“What things?”
I finished my drink, started a cigarette. “A few things,” I said. “In the first place, I don’t think it would work. Murray is a highly respected guy. Clean, established. And on top of that he happens to be a lawyer. There are a million holes in the frame, Joyce. If he were someone shady it wouldn’t matter, but a fellow like Murray could kick the prosecution’s case to hell and back.”
“You really don’t think it would work?” Joyce said.
“That’s right.”
“I don’t believe you, Wizard.” Her eyes challenged me. I glanced down at my drink, which was gone. I dragged on my cigarette. I raised my eyes and she was still watching me. “I don’t believe you at all,” she said. “If you thought the frame was wrong you’d look for another way, a fresh angle.
I made more calls Wednesday, two to Murray’s office, one to the Glade. I made them automatically, working like a programmed computer, speaking automatic words in my two mechanical fake voices. I left work early that day for my apartment. I took out the three onionskin copies I had typed up in Murray’s office and read them through. The second one had Thursday’s date at the top—tomorrow.
I took my Milani costume from the closet, spread it out on the bed. I looked at the snap-brim hat, the shabby suit, the loud and food-stained tie. I read through the letters again. Then I picked up the phone and dialed a number.
She answered it herself.
“Bill,” I said.
“I’ve been wishing you would call,” Joyce said. “I wanted to talk to you but I didn’t know when it would be safe. How is it going, Wizard?”
“It’s going all right.”
“Tell me about it.”
I lit a cigarette first. I took a deep drag, held the smoke in my lungs until I was slightly dizzy.
“Listen,” I said.
She waited.
“I don’t want to go through with it,” I said. “I don’t want to job the guy. I want to call it off.”
10
“No,” she said. “You’re not going to do this to me, Wizard.”
“Joyce—”
“You can’t weasel out. It’s all set up and we’re going to push it through. You can’t change your mind now.
We weren’t talking on the phone now. We had talked on the phone just long enough for her to be sure I wasn’t kidding. Now we were in my living room and her Caddy was parked at the curb in front. She was standing in front of me and her eyes were angry. I asked her if she wanted a drink. She said she didn’t. I made one for myself and she changed her mind and I made one for her. We sat at opposite ends of my living room couch and sipped scotch.
“Wizard?”
I met her gaze. She was angry now, and slightly desperate, and the combination of anger and desperation had deepened the lines at the corners of her mouth and pointed up the hardness of her face. And yet somehow her beauty was more striking than ever. My mind did what minds have a tendency to do, erected a little balance scale and put her on one side and Barb on the other. The contrast was vivid. Barb was soft and gentle, steady and sure, a good long-term investment. The other was fire and fury and handle-with-care, a much greater risk. And much more exciting.
“What changed your mind, Wizard? You were all ready to go, all set to job Murray and get the money and take me the hell out of this rotten town. What turned you off?”
“Things.”
“What things?”
I finished my drink, started a cigarette. “A few things,” I said. “In the first place, I don’t think it would work. Murray is a highly respected guy. Clean, established. And on top of that he happens to be a lawyer. There are a million holes in the frame, Joyce. If he were someone shady it wouldn’t matter, but a fellow like Murray could kick the prosecution’s case to hell and back.”
“You really don’t think it would work?” Joyce said.
“That’s right.”
“I don’t believe you, Wizard.” Her eyes challenged me. I glanced down at my drink, which was gone. I dragged on my cigarette. I raised my eyes and she was still watching me. “I don’t believe you at all,” she said. “If you thought the frame was wrong you’d look for another way, a fresh angle.
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