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“How dangerous is this guy? Will he be packing when I see him?”
“Probably. He’s hurt people. I know that. I don’t know if he ever killed anyone.”
“Okay, but that still means if it comes to it, it might be him or me. You understand?”
She touches the side of her head. Brushes some hair out of the way.
“I know it’s a lousy thing to ask, but please don’t kill him.”
“Didn’t you just hear me? If he draws down on me, I might not have a choice.”
She takes a step toward me. Gropes for words.
“You know how to do these things. Trick him. Use all that strategy you learned in the arena.”
“Why don’t you want me to hurt him?”
“I didn’t say don’t hurt him. Hurt him all you want. Just don’t kill him. I’d feel so guilty. He’s here because I stole his money. If he dies, it will be my fault.”
“I get it. I understand buyer’s remorse when it comes to killing. I’ve had it myself. Okay. I can probably handle this without making it a terminal situation, but I need your permission to make a mess.”
“As long as he doesn’t die, I’ll trust you with whatever you need to do.”
I think the scene over. I sort of remember the layout of her apartment.
“I’m going to need you to get some things for me.”
She calls up an empty note on her phone and types as I talk.
“A large painter’s tarp. Waterproof. Make that two. A gallon-size jug of dishwashing soap.”
“Got it. Is that all?”
“No. Glasses or empty bottles. Lots. When you think you have too many, that will be half of what I want.”
She tilts her head up at me.
“Are you going to make him drink something?”
“They’re not for drinking. They’re for breaking.”
“Don’t tell me anything more. I don’t want to know.”
“No you don’t. One more thing. I want to bring Candy along.”
She gives me a pleading look.
“Do you have to? I’m already so humiliated by this.”
“Candy doesn’t care about bad old lovers. We’ve all had a few, and hell, she puts up with me. Besides, she can help. She has a mean streak, and if I do what I’m thinking, I’ll have to leave Matthew alone for a while. She can babysit him.”
“Fine. Just don’t let Kasabian know.”
“No problem,” I say. “How’s Brigitte doing?”
She shakes her head.
“She’s stopped crying for now. I brought her to the clinic with me. She doesn’t know anything about medicine, but she can file and talk to the patients. I just want her a little distracted. And I want to be able to keep an eye on her.”
