L is for LAWLESS

by Sue Grafton

  “You did what?”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “When did you talk to her?”

  I saw the color come up in Laura’s face. “When we first got here,” she said defensively. “You saw me go in the other room. What did you think I was doing? I was on the phone.”

  “Jesus Christ. You called her?”

  “She’s my mother. Of course I called. I didn’t want her to worry in case Gilbert showed up on her doorstep. So what?”

  “If Gilbert shows up, she’ll tell him where you are.”

  “She will not.”

  “Of course she will. You think Gilbert won’t charm the socks off her? Hell, forget charm. He’ll beat the shit outta her. Of course she’ll tell him. I did. Once he started breaking fingers, I couldn’t wait to unload. Did you at least warn her?”

  “Warn her of what?”

  “Oh, jeez,” Ray said. He rubbed his palm down his face, pulling his features out of shape.

  “Look, Ray. You don’t need to treat me like a nincompoop.”

  “You still don’t get it, do you? That guy’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill you, too. He’ll kill Kinsey, your grandmother, and anybody else who gets in his way. He wants the money. You’re just the means to an end as far as he’s concerned.”

  “How’s he going to find us? He won’t find us,” she said.

  “We gotta get out of here.” Ray got up and threw his napkin down, giving me a look. I knew as well as he did that once Gilbert got confirmation of our whereabouts, he’d be here within the hour.

  “I’m with you,” I said as I pushed my chair back.

  Laura was aghast. “We haven’t even finished eating. What’s the matter with you?”

  He turned to me. “Get your clothes on. Ma, you need a coat. Turn the stove off. Just leave this. We can take care of it later.”

  His panic was contagious. Helen’s gaze was drifting around the room, her voice was tremulous. “What’s happening, son? I don’t understand what’s going on. Why would we leave? We haven’t ate our ice cream yet.”

  “Just do what I say and get going,” he snapped, hauling her out of her chair. He started turning off burners. He turned off the oven. I was not dressed for flight. All I had on were my Reeboks and Helen’s chenille bathrobe. I crossed to the utility room, nearly knocking his chair over in my haste to reach the dryer. Laura protested vigorously, but I noticed she was moving as fast as the rest of us. I pulled the dryer open, grabbed an armload of hot clothes, and headed for the bedroom. I flipped my shoes off, pulled on socks, bra, and underpants, pulled on my turtleneck and jeans, and shoved my feet back into my Reeboks, breaking down the backs. God, here I was again, going for the gold at the Throwing Clothes On Olympics. I put on my blazer and started jamming personal items in the pockets: cash, credit cards, house keys, pills, picks. From the kitchen Laura let out a shriek, followed by the sound of a bowl smashing on the floor. I moved into the kitchen while I crammed the last of the odds and ends in my jeans pockets.

  The room was dead still, Helen, Ray, and Laura unmoving. The bowl of mashed yams lay on the floor in an orange splat of puree and broken china. It didn’t matter at this point because Gilbert was standing in the door to the dining room with a gun aimed right at me.

  Chapter 17

  *

  Gilbert no longer wore the Stetson. His hair was disheveled, still bearing the faint indentation where the hat had rested. His pale blue denim jacket was lined with sheepskin, the fabric saturated in places and stiff with dark red. “Maria sends greetings. She would have come with me only she wasn’t feeling that good.”

  At the reference to her mother, Laura started to weep. She made no sound at all, but her face got patchy and red and tears welled in her eyes. She made a barely suppressed squeaking noise at the back of her throat. She sank into a chair.

  “Hey. Get up and get your hands up where I can see ‘em.”

  The gun in his hand encouraged compliance. I certainly wasn’t going to argue. Laura rose slowly, not looking at him. She let out a breath with an audible sound and tears ran down her cheeks. She’d brought this down on us with every poor choice she’d made. She’d taken the risk and now the rest of us would pay. I saw everyone in the room with such clarity: Ray had his jacket on, his car keys in hand. He’d managed to hustle his mother into her coat. She stood close to her place at the table, hands up, bundled up in her woollies like a kid on a snowy day. Five minutes more and we might have been gone. Gilbert must have been eavesdropping for some time, of course, so it probably didn’t matter. The fact that all of us now had our hands in the air gave the scene a slightly comical air. It looked as if we’d been caught in the middle of a spiritual, with our hands waving toward heaven. In a western, somebody would have jumped Gilbert and grappled for the gun. Not here. I kept my gaze pinned on his face, trying to gauge his intent. Helen’s gaze wandered the room, eyes unfocused, settling nowhere, roaming across the gray haze with its motionless dark shapes. I thought she’d be confused or upset, but she said nothing, sensing perhaps that the situation wouldn’t be served by questions. She did quiver almost imperceptibly, the way a dog trembles standing on the groomer’s table.

  The air still smelled of fried pork chops and milk gravy. The remnants of the meal remained on the plates, cooking pots piled in the kitchen sink. Maybe Freida Green would come in and clean up in a few days… after the crime scene tape had been removed and the premises unsealed.

  Gilbert held the gun in his right hand, using his left to reach into his jacket pocket. He took out a roll of duct tape. “Here’s what let’s do,” he said conversationally. “Ray, why don’t you just take a seat in that chair. Laura here is going to wrap you up in duct tape. Hey, hey, hey, babe.

  Goddamn it. Quit with the crying. Nothing’s happened yet. I’m just trying to keep everything under control. I don’t want anybody jumping out at me. Don’t want this gun going off or somebody might get hurt. Grammy’s not going to look so hot with a hole in her head, brains all spilling out, Ray with a big old hole in his chest. Come on, now. Help out, just to show you still care.”

  He tossed the roll of silver duct tape to Laura, who caught it on the fly. She seemed frozen, standing immobile as the seconds went by. “Gilbert, I beg you –”

  “Tape him up!”

  I flinched at his sudden screaming. Laura didn’t bat an eye, but I noticed she was now in motion, crossing the room to Ray. Slowly, hands still lifted, Ray eased himself into the chair Gilbert had indicated. Laura was weeping so hard I’m not even sure she could see what she was doing. Tears washed the makeup from her cheeks, exposing the old bruises like an undercoat of paint. Tendrils of red hair had come loose, trailing around her face.

  Gilbert’s focus moved to Ray. “Make any trouble, I’ll kill her,” he said.

  Ray said, “Don’t do that. Be cool. I’ll cooperate.”

  Gilbert flicked a look at me. “Why don’t you pass me the keys? I’d appreciate it,” he said.

  I reached for the keys still sitting on the kitchen table. I hated to let go of them, but I couldn’t think what else to do. I placed them in Gilbert’s left palm. He glanced at them briefly and then tucked them in his jacket pocket.

  Ray said, “Listen, Gilbert. This is an old score. It’s got nothing to do with these three. You can do anything you want with me, but keep them out of it.”

  “I know I can do anything I want. I’m already doing it. I don’t care about them two, the old bag and this one,” he said, indicating me. “But I got accounts to settle with her. She ran out on me.” He looked over at her, frowning. “Could you get busy with that tape like I said?”

  “Gilbert, please don’t do this. Please.”

  “Would you knock it off? I’m not doing anything,” he said peevishly. “What am I doing? I’m just standing here talking to your dad. Go on now and do what I told you. Ray’s not going to pull any funny business.”

  “Can’t we just leave? Get in the car and go, j
ust the two of us?”

  “You’re not done. You haven’t even started” Gilbert said. He was beginning to sound exasperated, not a good sign.

  Ray’s expression was soft, looking at Laura. “It’s okay, hon. Go ahead and do what he says. Let’s see if we can keep everybody on an even keel here.”

  Gilbert smiled. “My thoughts exactly. Everybody take it easy. I want his ankles taped to the chair legs. And let’s get his hands behind him, bind ‘em up nice. I’m going to check on you, so don’t you be thinking you can pretend to tape him up and then not do it right. I hate when people try to fool me. You know how I am. Blow your nose and quit sniveling.”

  Laura fumbled in her pocket, took out a tissue, and did as he said. She tucked the tissue away and pulled out a strip of tape, the adhesive making a ripping sound as she tore it loose. She began to wrap the tape around Ray’s right ankle, first folding his pant leg against his shin, then threading the tape around the chair leg in several layers.

  “I want that tight. You don’t get it tight enough, I’m going to shoot him in the leg.”

  “I am!” She flashed a look at Gilbert, and for a moment there was pure fury in her eyes instead of fear.

  He seemed to like it that he’d gotten a rise out of her. A slight smile crossed his face. “What’s that look for?”

  “Where’s Farley?” she said darkly.

  “Oh, him. I left him in California. What a worthless sack of shit he turned into. All the mewling and pissing. I really hate that stuff. Here’s the long and short of it: The man ratted you out. It’s the truth. He gave you up. Farley told me everything, trying to save his own skin. I do not admire that. I think it sucks.” He edged over to the chair where Ray was sitting. He kept a close eye on all of us, making sure no one moved while he squatted by the chair and checked the tape. He got up, apparently satisfied with the job she was doing. “When you get done with him, you can do her,” he said, meaning me.

  She ripped off another length of tape and began to secure Ray’s left leg to the chair rung. “What’d you do to him?” she asked.

  Gilbert stood upright again, backing off two steps. “What I did? We’re not talking about what I did. I didn’t do anything. It’s what you did. You betrayed me, babe. How many times I told you about that? You just never learn, do you? I try – God knows I try – to let you know what I expect.”

  “Farley’s dead?”

  “Yes, he is,” Gilbert said solemnly. “I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you.”

  “He was your nephew. Your own flesh and blood.”

  “What’s that got to do with it? That doesn’t cut any ice. Flesh and blood don’t mean bullshit. It’s about loyalty. Is that simple concept so hard for you to grasp? Listen, I want to tell you something. You can’t blame this on me. Anybody gets hurt, it’s on your head, not mine. How many times I told you, you have to do what I say. You’re not going to obey me, then I can’t be responsible.”

  “I’m doing what you said. In what way am I not doing what you said?”

  “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the money. I’m talking about Rio. Now see? Right there. You didn’t fly to Rio like you were supposed to, and look what went wrong as a consequence of your behavior. Farley… well, never mind. I think we said enough about him.”

  Helen spoke up. Like me, she’d been standing there doggedly with her hands in the air. “Young man. I wonder if I could take this coat off and set down.”

  Gilbert frowned, irritated at the interruption. It was clear he enjoyed getting all worked up, feeling righteous, expounding on the many ways someone else was at fault. Helen wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was fixed at a point to his right, where she was obviously mistaking the doorjamb for him. Gilbert was momentarily distracted, amused by her mistake. He waved his arms. “Hey, over here, sweetheart. You must not see all that good. You’ve mistook me for a coat rack.”

  “I see well enough. It’s my feet give out,” she said. “I’m eighty-five years old.”

  “Is that right? Arms getting tired, is that it?”

  Helen said nothing. Her rheumy gaze was wandering. I kept scanning the room, looking for a weapon, trying to form a plan. I didn’t want to put the others in any more jeopardy. His intentions seemed clear enough. One by one, we’d be bound and gagged, at which point he was going to kill us, and what could we do? I was closer to him than Laura was, but if I tried to jump him, he might go berserk and start shooting. I had to do something soon, but I didn’t want to be foolhardy… acting like a heroine when it might put us in a worse situation than we were already in.

  “I’m going to set. You can shoot me if you don’t like it,” Helen said.

  Gilbert gestured with the gun. “Take a seat right where you are. You can put your hands down for now, but don’t touch anything on the table.”

  She said, “Thank you.” She braced her hands on the table and sank heavily in her chair. She shrugged out of her coat. I could see her flex her fingers gingerly, coaxing the circulation before she tucked them in her lap.

  Gilbert angled himself so he could monitor Laura’s progress as she bound her father’s hands with tape. Ray’s arms were behind him. In order to have his wrists meet behind the wooden chair back, he had to lean forward slightly and force his shoulders into a roll.

  Gilbert seemed to enjoy Ray’s discomfort. “Where’s the harness?” he asked Laura.

  “In the other room.”

  “When you get done with that, bring it out here and let’s see what we got.”

  “I thought you said tape her.”

  “Get the harness, then tape her, you fuckin’ idjit,” he said.

  “There’s only eight thousand dollars. You said a million,” she said irritably. She set the roll of duct tape aside and moved into the other room. Personally, I wouldn’t have dared to take that tone with him. Gilbert didn’t seem surprised about the money, so I had to assume Farley’d told him about the eight grand along with everything else.

  Laura returned with the harness in hand. He took it from her, hefting it up onto the counter behind him. He glanced down at the contents, taking in the packets of bills. His gaze shifted to Ray. “Where’s the rest of the money? Where’s all the jewelry and the coin collections?”

  “I don’t know. I really can’t swear there’s anything left,” Ray said.

  Gilbert closed his eyes, his patience wearing thin. “Ray, I was there, remember? I helped you guys, hauling out all that cash and jewelry. What about the diamonds and the coins? There was a fortune in there, must have been two million, at least, and Johnny sure as shit didn’t have it on him when he was caught.”

  “Hey, not to argue, but you were seventeen years old. None of us had ever seen a million bucks, let alone two. We don’t really have any idea how much it was because we never had a chance to count it, and that’s the truth,” Ray said.

  “There was a hell of a lot more than this. Seven or eight big bags. That loot didn’t just disappear into thin air. The son of a bitch must have hid it. So where’d he put it?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine. That’s why I’m here. See if I can figure it out.”

  “He didn’t tell you?”

  “I swear to God he didn’t. He knew he could trust himself, but I guess he wasn’t all that sure about me.”

  I spoke up then, looking at Ray. “How do you know he didn’t spend it?”

  “It’s always possible,” he said. “I know he sent money to my ma. That was our agreement up front.”

  “He did what?” Gilbert said. He turned to Helen. “Is that right?”

  “Oh my, yes,” she said complacently. “I’ve received a money order in the amount of five hundred dollars every month since nineteen and forty-four, though it did stop some months back. July or August, as I recollect.”

  “Since 1944? I don’t believe it. How much did he send? Five hundred a month? That’s ridiculous,” Gilbert said.

  “Two hundred forty-six thousand dollars,”
Ray interjected. “I took high school math up at FCI Ashland. You ought to try the joint yourself, Gilbert. Improve your grasp of the basics. Vocabulary, grammar…”

  Gilbert was still focused on Johnny’s giveaway plan. “You gotta be shittin’ me. Johnny Lee gave two hundred forty-six thousand dollars of my money to this old bag? I don’t believe it. That’s criminal.”

  “I kept an account if you’d care to see it. It’s a little red notebook in that drawer over there,” Helen said, pointing a trembling finger in the general direction of the drawer where she’d kept Ray’s mail.

  Gilbert moved to the drawer and jerked it open, pawing through the jumble of items with impatience. He pulled the drawer out altogether and dumped the contents on the floor. He reached down and picked up a small spiral-bound notebook, thumbing through it with his left hand, the gun still in his right. Even from where I stood, I could see column after column, dates and scratchy-looking numbers running crookedly from page to page. “Son of a bitch!” Gilbert said. “How could he do that, give the money away?” He flung the notebook on the kitchen table, where it landed in the dish of stewed tomatoes.

  It was Ray’s turn to enjoy. He knew better than to smile, but his tone of voice conveyed his satisfaction. “The guy kept five hundred for himself, too, so what is that? After forty-one years that brings the total up to four hundred ninety-two thousand dollars,” Ray said. “Figure it out for yourself. If we netted half a million bucks from the heist, that’d leave just about eight grand.”

  Gilbert crossed to Ray and jammed the barrel of the gun up under his jaw, hard. “Goddamn it! I know there was more and I want it! I’ll blow your fuckin’ head off right this minute if you don’t give it up.”

  “Killing me won’t help. You kill me, you got no chance,” Ray said without flinching. “Maybe I can find it, if there’s anything left. I know how Johnny’s mind worked. You don’t have a clue how he went about his business.”