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'There're two things that aren't going to happen here tonight, Buchalter,' I said. 'I'm not going to give you information I don't have, and nobody here is going to kiss your butt. You're a piece of shit. Nothing you can do here will ever change that fact.'
He was quiet a moment. I felt his fingers move, but they were uncertain now, the press
ure against my chin and neck temporarily in abeyance.
'You want to say that again?' he asked.
'Guys like you are cruel because you got fucked up in toilet training. That's how it works. Go to a psychologist and check it out. It's better than living with skid marks in your underwear.'
The man with crossed eyes started to laugh, then looked at Buchalter's face.
Buchalter was breathing heavily now. His hands were moist with perspiration, poised on my chin and neck. But the indecision, the physical pause, was still there, the means of resolving the insult not quite yet in place.
Then the man with crossed eyes turned in his chair and stared at the side window, whose blinds were drawn. He raised one hand in the air.
'Will, there's somebody outside,' he said.
Buchalter's hands slid away from me. He took the Beretta from his pocket while the man called Chuck peeked out the side of the blinds.
'It's a delivery guy,' he said.
'What do you mean "a delivery guy"?' Buchalter said.
'A fucking delivery guy. With a clipboard and a flashlight. He's coming to the back door.'
'Let him give you what he's got, then get rid of him.'
'Me?'
'Yes, you.'
The man called Chuck went out on the back porch, beyond my angle of vision. Buchalter rested one hand on my shoulder and placed the barrel of the Beretta behind my ear.
'UPS. I got a box for Dave Robicheaux. I guess your doorbell's broke,' a voice said out in the darkness.
I saw Bootsie's eyes fasten on mine.
'Put it on the gallery,' Chuck said.
'It's COD.'
'How much?'
'Eight fifty.'
'Wait a minute.'
The man named Chuck came back into the kitchen, his face filled with consternation.
'I ain't got any money, Will,' he said.
'Here,' Buchalter said, and handed him a twenty-dollar bill.
'What if I got to sign for it?'
'Just scribble on the board. Now, get out there and do it.'
Chuck went back out on the porch. I could see his shadow moving about under the bug-crusted light.
