He motioned toward me, I thought, but then I realized he was indicating Alvy. She still had a grip on my arm. I felt a shove as she pushed me out of the way and walked past.
“Excuse me, asshole,” she said in passing.
She crossed the room, stood next to Ford, and crossed her arms with a nasty smile on her face. Smug little bitch, I thought. My headache, which had never really gone away, bounced back with a surge of pressure. I brought my hands up and massaged my temples.
“You told him I was here, Alvy?” I asked, shaking my head. “I don’t believe this.”
“Believe it,” she said. “Actually, Harry, I knew about the insurance policy when it was taken out. And I found Rebecca’s letter two days ago. I have my own copy. So you see, Mac and I are partners. I had to let my partner know you were onto him, and that you’d be here today.”
Mac held the gun on me and said nothing.
“What for? I mean, what’s this going to get you?”
She took a step toward me, arms still crossed. She rolled her lower lip out again and did her best Winona Ryder. “Half of two million dollars, smart-ass.”
Alvy stood to Mac Ford’s left, facing me. She uncrossed her arms, then put her right arm across Mac’s shoulders and laid her head on his shoulders. “Right, partner?” she cooed.
I shook my head again. In my shirt pocket, the stun gun sat points down and useless. I could rush him, but there’s nothing more dangerous and unpredictable than a man with a gun who happens to be in the middle of a good buzz.
No, I thought, I am well and truly pronged.…
“You guys mind if I sit down?” I asked. “I’ve had a lousy couple of days and my head’s killing me.”
I didn’t wait for an answer. I pulled out Alvy’s desk chair, sat down, and plopped the file on her desk.
“Keep your hands in sight,” she ordered, then turned to Mac. “I don’t think he’s carrying, but he has got a stun gun.”
“Get it,” Mac ordered, motioning with the pistol.
She stepped over and leaned across the desk, then reached inside my pocket and pulled the stun gun out.
“You don’t really think this is going to work, do you?” I whispered.
“Oh, shut up,” she said. Then she slapped me, open-handed and hard. There was a snap inside my head, and I felt a burning on my cheeks. I fought the urge to jump up and choke her. She backed off quickly. I carefully rubbed the sting on my left cheek.
Goddamn Generation Xers. Never trust anyone under thirty.
Alvy had my stun gun, and they both had me. It was so bloody crazy, I almost wanted to laugh. I was exhausted, at the absolute end of my tether, and I think on some level I wasn’t really in touch with just how bad this really was.
I looked up at Mac. “What are you going to do?”
“The first thing we’re going to do is take a drive, say somewhere out in Rutherford County. Way out in the country. You ever drive a Rolls?”
“Oh,” I said, “you mean it hasn’t been repo’d yet?”
His hand tightened on the pistol, and he took a step toward me. “You’re a smart little son of a bitch, you know that?”
I held out my hand. “I apologize,” I said wearily. “You’re right, I have a terrible attitude. It’s hard to have a good one when-”
I stopped midsentence. Downstairs, there was the creak of a door being opened.
“Who’s that?” Alvy said, her voice tightening.
“I don’t know,” Mac said.
“Well, what are we gonna do?”
“Don’t panic,” he said. “Here, hand me his stun gun.”
She handed over the hunk of black plastic. Great, I thought. It’s getting deeper by the nanosecond.
“Close that door,” he ordered.
Alvy stepped over and eased the door shut. “What now?”
“Just stand here and be quiet.” Mac Ford’s voice had lost its slur. Had adrenaline driven the other chemicals in his body into seclusion?
I sat at Alvy’s desk as the two of them stood stock-still, the gun pointed directly at me. If I jumped him now, he might not shoot. Then again, if I’m wrong, it’s not going to do me any good to get shot even if it does bring help. I’d never been shot before; I once interviewed a cop who said it doesn’t usually hurt much at first. Just a stinging, burning sensation. It’s later, after the shock’s over, that you think the pain’s going to kill you.
Great.
The footsteps grew louder in volume, up the stairs now, left at the head of the stairs, then down the hall toward us. I felt my heart pounding in my chest, and I was beginning to develop a touch of tinnitus.
The steps stopped in front of the door. Mac Ford lowered his right hand and tucked the pistol out of sight behind his leg. Alvy’s hands were knotted into fists and held stiffly at her side. The doorknob turned. I sucked in a deep breath and locked it in. I was trying to come up with a script, but all I could think of was “Help!”
The door moved. Alvy backed off a step.
Faye Morgan stepped in.
Oh, hell, I thought, so it ain’t the cavalry.
“What are you doing here?” Mac asked, bringing the gun up.
Alvy shook her head from side to side, disgusted. “Faye, you scared the pee out of us.”
“I told you not to come,” Mac said. “I’ll take care of this.”
Faye had on a pair of pleated khaki pants and a military-style shirt with epaulets. A large knitted bag hung from her right shoulder. Her permed red hair was full, bright. She was gorgeous, and what a hell of a thing for me to notice given the circumstances. I stared down at the floor, deflated.
“Mac, I had to,” she said. “What are you going to do?”
His jaw tightened. “I’ve got to take care of these two!”
My head snapped up. These two?
Alvy noticed it, too, and I saw a look on her face that was like a curtain dropping. Suddenly, what I had figured all along dawned on her.