The Trouble With Eden - Lawrence Block [161]
“No, why?”
“Just curious.”
“No plans for the day. I was thinking I might go for a ride this evening.”
“I was wondering if you might.”
“You sound pleased.”
“I’m always pleased.”
“But with something else mixed in usually.”
“Not today.” He yawned again, stretching his arms high overhead. “What is it the kids say? I’m getting my head straight. That what they say?”
“I think so.”
“So it’s nuts to hate something and love it at the same time, and if you can’t stop loving it and loving it makes you feel better than hating it, the thing to do is stop hating it, am I right or am I right?”
“You’re right.”
“See? I’m just a big kid getting his head straight. I’ll be up when you come home. In more ways than one. You better have a good story.”
“I’ll take notes.”
“I just thought what I’m going to buy you. What’s open tomorrow? Major’s? I think I’ll take a run up to Major’s tomorrow.”
“What for?”
“No, I’m not telling. The idea just came to me and if you can’t figure it out you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out.”
“Fucker.”
“Cunt. Give me a kiss good-bye, cunt.”
“Gretch, I’m worried about Robin. The next few days are going to make the difference. The plan Warren and I worked out is our one chance of ending this thing once and for all. And you know what that means.”
“It means we can start to live for the first time in our lives.”
“It also means they’re going to get desperate. And where will they strike?”
“Oh, God. Maybe I shouldn’t have let her play with those children. What defense can a child’s mind have against them?”
“She’s not safe here, either. And we’re going to have to have freedom of movement, and we can’t risk bringing her with us.”
“Let me think, Petey.”
“There is one answer,” he said. He put his finger his lips and got pencil and paper. He wrote: “Warren’s house. They can’t penetrate it.”
She snatched the pencil and wrote: “But who will stay with her?”
“Anne Tedesco.”
“She’s one of them! Just yesterday.”
He took the pencil from her. “I know about that,” he said aloud. He wrote: “She told me what happened. You handled her perfectly. She was a minor dupe just as you thought, and you brought her to her senses.”
She read this and said, “You would have been proud of me, baby.”
“I’m damn proud of you,” he said, while he wrote: “Anne wants to make up for what she did. She will watch Robin at Warren’s. I will take her to Anne now. It’s all arranged.”
She took this in and frowned in concentration. She reached for the pencil but he shook his head. He was going bananas already with the fucking pencil, his hand felt as though it had been tied in knots, and she was having so much fun playing counterspy she would probably go on passing notes all day.
He pointed to the window, indicating that what he was going to say was for the benefit of other ears. He said, “You know what I think I’ll do? I’ll go over to the Raparound for a bite. I’m still hungry.” She nodded approval at that one. “Maybe I’ll see if Robin wants to keep me company. And then maybe I’ll see Tony and find out if I can get my job back.”
A few more exchanges and he was on his way out of there. She called him just as he was drawing the door, shut. She was at the table writing furiously.
“I just wanted to kiss you good-bye,” she said. They kissed, and then she showed him what she had written: “While you’re gone I’ll burn this and flush the ashes down the toilet.”
It was a relief to be out of the apartment, a further relief to be out of the building. But it was not until he had picked up Robin and turned her over to Warren and Anne that he felt the tension drain off. Only then did he realize what a strain he had been under.
And the extraordinary thing was that it had not seemed such a strain at the time. There was something almost enjoyable about it. And that, of course, was the most horrible part of all.
It was a game. Gretchen played