The Weight

by Andrew Vachss

  “I’m gonna tell Solly I got it done. Which I damn well did. He wouldn’t expect me to use the phone he gave me, so it wouldn’t spook him that it’s not signaling.

  “But he can track me through the card; he’ll see I’m headed home. That’s perfect. He wouldn’t expect me to say what he wants to hear on the phone. And the book, that I’d have to hand over to him in person, anyway.

  “So, before he even knows I’m in town, I slip back into the bank, take my money out, and stash it with you, before I go to see him.” I knew it couldn’t happen like that—I’d have to do Solly before I went near that bank. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Lynda. I guess it was that old pass-the-polygraph thing in my head coming up again.

  “Are you going to—?”

  “After I see Solly, I don’t need any new ID. I just go back to being me. I even got a plan how I can do that. You, you’ll be Lynda Leigh.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “What?”

  “I said, ‘We’ll see,’ didn’t I?”

  “I get it. You mean, you’ll make me a perfect new ID anyway, just in case, right?”

  “What part of ‘We’ll see’ didn’t you understand?”

  We got started early the next morning. Lynda dropped me off a block away from a cabstand, then took the Caddy back to its garage. By the time she got to the American Airlines terminal, I’d been waiting almost an hour.

  We used my Stanley Wilson credit card to rent one of those big SUVs. Then back to the condo, where we loaded up.

  By lunchtime, we were on the road.

  The SUV had this gigantic navigation screen. With Lynda reading it for me, we didn’t even need a map.

  Everything was going fine. I thought I had it pulled off, but Lynda caught wise.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Seeing if you trust me.”

  “Sugar … what?! This isn’t where we should be—”

  I pulled into one of those rest stops. Stopped the SUV. Turned off the ignition.

  Lynda wasn’t saying anything, but her breathing was tight and fast, like a boiler getting ready to blow.

  “Do you trust me?” I asked her again.

  “Sugar, how could you even ask me that? After all we’ve—”

  “I’m asking you, Lynda. There’s only one way to make this work without having to look over our shoulders for the rest of our lives.”

  “What makes you think you—?”

  “Did you hear what I said? Our lives. You want to go your own way, now’s the time.”

  A cigarette appeared in her hand like magic. She took a puff, blew a stream of smoke at the roof, tapped her nails on the dash. Not saying anything. Not going to say anything. Okay, then: time to find out.

  “I need Albie’s note, Lynda.”

  “You need it? For what?”

  “So Albie could finish his last job. That note, either you’d find it, or these other men would. Albie couldn’t know. That’s why he tried to cover you from both sides.”

  “He did.”

  “No. No, he didn’t, girl. He did the best he could, but there’s more than two sides to cover. Tell me, that tiny little writing, would you recognize it?”

  “You mean, would I know it was from Albie? Of course I would. And if you look close, you’d see it was torn right out of his book. And his tallit—you know how old that must be? How many places it must have been?”

  “All I know is, you have to give it up.”

  “Give it up?”

  “All of it.”

  “Sugar, you’re scaring me.”

  “You never got mail at that house, right?”

  “Of course not. There was a box in—”

  “And, like you said, the bills got paid by themselves, from this computer thing.”

  “So?”

  “So how’s anyone gonna know Albie’s dead? It’s not like it would be a news story or anything. Maybe they had some signal you don’t know about, but—”

  “Who’s ‘they’?”

  “The men who visited Albie.”

  “Oh. Well, if they did, I can’t see what it could be. I mean, we had no phone, just the cell. I’ve got Albie’s cell. It hasn’t rung once since he—”

  “Okay, when these men would show up, did Albie ever tell you they were coming?”

  “He … no. No, he never did. I don’t think he knew himself. We’d just be, I don’t know, sitting in the living room, having tea, and they’d just … be there. The first time it happened, I thought they were robbers or something—I was so scared they’d hurt Albie.”

  “Good. That means we got a shot. Solly knows Albie’s gone, but he wouldn’t pass that info along until he was sure he was covered. That’s what he was using me for, see?

  “The window’s wide open, Lynda. But it could drop closed any minute. If it drops before we get all that stuff back inside, it’ll be like one of those guillotine things, chop off our heads like this,” I told her, snapping my fingers.

  “You want to leave Albie’s things back there? Albie left them to me!”

  “What he left you was protection. Only, you’re not using it.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying, Albie, he didn’t leave you fucking keepsakes, okay? What he left you was tools. And you’ve gotta use them, not hang on to them.”

  “I’m not giving up my—”

  “You don’t have to, Lynda. Just give me Albie’s blue book. I’ll drive you back to your condo, and then I’ll go back to where I came from.”

  “Sugar …”

  “I came down here for two things. I was supposed to check out this Jessop and get that little book. I have to tell Solly I got all that done if I want to get close to him again.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything? You can have the little book, all right?”

  “If that’s the way you want it.”

  “What I want is what you said. We were going back to New York just long enough for you to show Solly you got the job done. That’s ‘we,’ as in both of us. Why can’t we still do that?”

  “Because I have to get back into that house, Lynda. I have to leave Albie’s stuff right where we found it. That’s the only way those men who come to see him will ever understand what happened.”

  “You’re losing me, Sugar.”

  I probably am, I thought. But what I said was, “You already said it. Those hard men, they’re going to come, sooner or later. They won’t find Albie. Or you. What could they do then except call Solly?

  “First thing out of his mouth, he’s gonna tell them about that partners desk. If we don’t get that stuff back where Albie had it stashed, they’ll find an empty space.”

  “But if—”

  “You’re wasting time, Lynda. And we don’t have much. You know what Solly’s gonna say was supposed to be in that desk? Come on. What?”

  “Albie’s book,” she said. She bit her lower lip to stop herself from crying.

  “Yeah. And when they find that slot empty, they’ll naturally think you cleaned it out and took off. They want that book, girl. People like them, you think they won’t be able to find you just because you got some nice new ID?”

  She was quiet for a second. When she opened her mouth, I could see a drop of blood on her lower lip. She must have bit down real hard.

  “What if they’re already there, Sugar? At the house. Waiting.”

  “You said they always come at night, right? We’ve still got plenty of daylight left.”

  “Not that much. And what if—?”

  “If they’re waiting, then I’m the one they grab. But so what? I’ll have what Albie left you. I’ll tell them you paid me to sneak in and put it back.

  “Whether they’ll buy it, who knows? But they’ll know I didn’t write that note. The way I’ve got it worked out, no way you come into it. Ever.”

  “It’d never work.”

  “It’d work perfect. They’d pound on me, just to make sure they got all the juice
out of the orange. When I’ve taken enough to convince them, I’ll tell them the whole truth.”

  “The … what?”

  “The truth. Solly sent me. To get Albie’s book. And I did that. They’ll see that for themselves. Solly told me to get that book no matter what I had to do.

  “Get it? Me, I had to hurt you pretty bad to make you talk. Solly was on the phone all the time I was doing it—he could hear everything. When you finally told me where to find Albie’s book, Solly told me, make sure I don’t leave anything behind.

  “So I killed you. Then I ran out and mailed Albie’s book to Solly. Only reason I went back in was to wipe the place down, make sure there wasn’t anything there that could trace back to me. That’s why I had the prayer bag on me. Only, Albie’s note, it’s going to be inside the bag, get it?”

  “That is where it was.”

  “It doesn’t matter. They’re never going to think a thug like me would open that bag. I’m just a guy Solly hired. Hired to get the book, see? That’s why I’d have to let them work on me for a while, because telling them who paid me, that’d be like ratting him out.”

  “Why would you care? About Solly, I mean.”

  “I don’t. But you don’t rat. That’s the rules.”

  “The what?”

  “Never mind. It’s too … complicated to explain now. But those men, they’d understand.”

  “They’d kill you, Sugar.”

  “They might. But they wouldn’t have to. There’s no reason for them not to believe my story. How else would I know about Solly? Or Albie? Or the book?”

  “They’d still—”

  “Maybe not. Maybe they wouldn’t want to make a mess, I don’t know. But that’s all downside. If I can get in there and leave Albie’s stuff without being caught, now that’s a message they’d get for sure.”

  “Which is …?”

  “You found the note. And you left it for them. They’d know Albie’s handwriting. They’d think you did what the note said to do. Albie made sure they’d know there’s no reason to hunt you now—they’d already have everything there was to get. Why be mad at you? You played it square all the way. You didn’t have to leave anything for them, but you did.”

  “I don’t like—”

  “It’s not for you to say.”

  “Why? Because you’re the man.”

  “Because you’ve got all your … feelings in this, and I don’t. Right or wrong, those men, they’d know Albie wouldn’t just leave his prayer stuff behind.”

  “Of course he wouldn’t! I … oh!”

  “So, if I don’t put it back, and if they can’t find it, they’ll know you have it. They wouldn’t care about that—what they’d want is that little blue book. With Solly telling them his story, they’d go right for that partners desk. They find it empty, they have to find you, understand?”

  She lit another smoke. I hadn’t even noticed her finishing the first one.

  “Which means they’d be looking for you, too.”

  “If that’s what you believe, if you think I’m going back in there to cover myself, don’t say another word. I’ll go back and tell Solly I had to take you out, too. That’ll make him feel safe, back in control. Albie’s gone, and he’s holding both books. He never knows about the note. So, soon as he has Albie’s book, he contacts those hard men himself.

  “He can tell them any story he wants. Long as he’s got both little blue books, he’s golden. He’d have to admit he sent me down for the book, sure. But that just proves you’re in the ground, so you’ll never be talking, see?”

  “I hate you.”

  I felt like smacking her. “You fucking must, you think I’d be going back in that damn house to cover my own ass, bitch.”

  “Sugar, can’t you see what I’m really afraid of? Believe me, if those men got their hands on you, all those big muscles wouldn’t mean a thing.”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  “Sure. And if you guess wrong …”

  “No. I mean, find out if you want to be with me, Lynda. ’Cause if you do, you got nothing to say about anything I ever do to keep you safe.”

  “That’s why you killed Jessop? You thought he might—”

  “No. I killed him for me, Lynda. Not for you.”

  “For you? You didn’t even know him.”

  “I know what he did. And I know who he did it to.”

  “You mean, selling me to Albie? That was the best thing anyone ever—”

  “And Jessop, he fucking knew that, huh?”

  She was either going to have another smoke or start crying, I thought. But she just turned and looked at me.

  “I was glad you did it, Sugar.”

  “We can’t keep sitting here, girl. There isn’t much daylight left.”

  I knew Lynda had cut all the alarms off before we left the last time, so I just jammed the pry bar under the window as deep as I could, then I jacked it up, slow and strong, like I had with the arm-wrestler. The locks popped and the window went up.

  I went in without the gun. If the men Lynda was afraid of were already there, no gun was going to help me. But if cops ended up in the picture, a gun would cook me.

  I get pinched, I’d say the owner hired me to break in because there was valuable stuff inside and he wanted to run an insurance scam. It would be pretty lame, since I’d be describing a guy I never met—Lynda didn’t know what name was on the deed to the place. Better than nothing. Not much better, but … something, anyway.

  I didn’t prowl. If they were already waiting, I wanted to make sure they could hear me.

  The place was empty. Or, if it wasn’t, I couldn’t tell.

  Were they already there? Waiting to see what I’d do before they did whatever they wanted to do?

  So many rooms in that house. So many places they could be.

  I could feel it getting darker, like the sun was dropping inside the house.

  The rule is that you never work scared—if the job’s too risky for you, pass.

  I tried, but I couldn’t seal my mind off from those hard men.

  I knew exactly where I was going, so I moved fast. That’d fit my story, too.

  The house was so big that I knew it had rooms I’d never seen. If they were coming for me, I’d never hear them. Even the shadows were full of … I don’t know what.

  I left Albie’s prayer bag on top of the partners desk. Propped the note he’d left for … for Rena, I guess, up against it.

  The hard men wouldn’t expect the little blue book, not with what that note said. They’d know Solly had Albie’s book.

  And soon enough he would.

  I ran back to the window like somebody was chasing me.

  When I got back to the car, Lynda wasn’t there. And it was already dark. I was still trying to decide what to do when she came out of the bushes, holding that pistol.

  From there, we drove straight through, taking turns behind the wheel. About five in the morning, we found a motel somewhere in Maryland, just a few miles off the highway. I wanted to be sharp when we hit New York.

  The kid behind the counter looked all fresh-scrubbed and neat, but his eyes were the kind you see in a porno store. He told me that checkout was eleven, so if we stayed past six hours we’d be charged for another whole night. Looking at Lynda all the time, like he knew something.

  “We have an excellent room, sir. You and your wife’ll be in 321.”

  “I don’t want that one,” I said.

  The clerk’s skin turned blotchy. “The only other vacancies are on the first floor, sir. It’s much noisier there, especially in the morning.”

  “Three, two, one, that sounds like a countdown. Got to be an unlucky number.”

  “I’m sure you—”

  “Give us another room.”

  His skin went pinto again. I covered my mouth like I was yawning, handed over my credit card. The jerkoff artist was still going on about “incidentals” as we walked away.

  The room reminded m
e of the front-desk kid: looked all neat, but you could feel dirt no maid would ever get out.

  “Sugar, come here. Did you ever see anything like this?”

  She was standing in the tiny little bathroom, pointing at the toilet. The seat was down, covered with a thin film of clear plastic, stretched tight. A yellow tag said it was “Sanitized for Your Protection.”

  Actually, I had seen that kind of thing before. Never thought twice about it. But with Lynda being so amazed, I kind of looked at it different.

  “You’re saying you don’t believe the sign?” I asked her.

  “Do you?”

  “I … guess not. But it’s a good thing they put that big sticker on, anyway.”

  “Why?”

  “Uh, well, if you were, I don’t know, drunk or something, you might … I mean, if that sticker wasn’t there, that plastic, you might not even notice it was there.”

  “You’re so cute,” Lynda said. She made a little motion with her finger. I moved my face close to hers. She kissed me. “Now get out,” she told me.

  I knew she wasn’t going to be quick, so I flopped down on the bed.

  Next thing I remember was Lynda, smelling like thick flowers, straddling me, pushing down on my shoulders.

  Woke me out of a nasty dream. That night clerk was in a little closet, door closed behind him, watching a man and woman go at it on a TV monitor. The feed from the camera he’s got hidden in 321.

  “It’s all yours,” Lynda whispered.

  When I came out of the shower, Lynda was lying facedown on the bed, dead to the world. She was wearing a sweatsuit, with socks on her feet. I could see the bedspread in the corner, where she must have thrown it. One of my T-shirts was between her face and the pillow.

  There was a T-shirt over my pillow, too.

  We were back on I-95 by six the next night. I turned the rental in at Newark Airport. Lynda waited on a bench around the corner.

  That’s the same reason we took the PATH train to Penn Station. Lynda did the best she could, but I was still loaded like a pack mule when I checked into the nearest hotel I could find.