A wave of dizziness runs through his head as he takes his first deep breath of the cool, musty air. He staggers a little, and puts his arms out for balance. It’s the heat, he thinks. You’ve been too busy to realize it, but you’re dripping with sweat. Also, you ate no breakfast.
Both true, but the main thing is simpler and self-evident: he’s not as young as he used to be, and it’s been years since the physical exertions of the dyehouse. He’s got to pace himself. Over by the furnace are a couple of good-sized cartons with KITCHEN SUPPLIES printed on the sides. Morris sits down on one of these until his heartbeat slows and the dizziness passes. Then he unzips the tote with Andy’s little automatic inside, tucks the gun into the waistband of his pants at the small of his back, and blouses his shirt over it. He takes a hundred dollars of Andy’s money, just in case he runs into any unforeseen expenses, and leaves the rest for later. He’ll be back here this evening, may even spend the night. It sort of depends on the kid who stole his notebooks, and what measures Morris needs to employ in order to get them back.
Whatever it takes, cocksucker, he thinks. Whatever it takes.
Right now it’s time to move on. As a younger man, he could have pulled himself out of that basement window easily, but not now. He drags over one of the KITCHEN SUPPLIES cartons – it’s surprisingly heavy, probably some old busted appliance inside – and uses it as a step. Five minutes later, he’s headed for Andrew Halliday Rare Editions, where he will park his old pal’s car in his old pal’s space and then spend the rest of the day soaking up the air-conditioning and waiting for the young notebook thief to arrive.
James Hawkins indeed, he thinks.
20
Quarter past two.
Hodges, Holly, and Jerome are on the move, headed for their positions around Northfield High: Hodges out front, Jerome on the corner of Westfield Street, Holly beyond the high school’s auditorium, on Garner Street. When they are in position, they’ll let Hodges know.
In the bookshop on Lacemaker Lane, Morris adjusts his tie, turns the hanging sign from CLOSED to OPEN, and unlocks the door. He goes back to the desk and sits down. If a customer should come in to browse – not terribly likely at such a slack time of the day, but possible – he will be happy to help. If there’s a customer here when the kid arrives, he’ll think of something. Improvise. His heart is beating hard, but his hands are steady. The shakes are gone. I am a wolf, he tells himself. I’ll bite if I have to.
Pete is in his creative writing class. The text is Strunk and White’s The Elements of Style, and today they are discussing the famous Rule 13: Omit needless words. They have been assigned Hemingway’s short story ‘The Killers,’ and it has provoked a lively class discussion. Many words are spoken on the subject of how Hemingway omits needless words. Pete barely hears any of them. He keeps looking at the clock, where the hands march steadily toward his appointment with Andrew Halliday. And he keeps going over his script.
At twenty-five past two, his phone vibrates against his leg. He slips it out and looks at the screen.
Mom: Come right home after school, we need to talk.
His stomach cramps and his heart kicks into a higher gear. It might be no more than some chore that needs doing, but Pete doesn’t believe it. We need to talk is Momspeak for Houston, we have a problem. It could be the money, and in fact that seems likely to him, because problems come in bunches. If it is, then Tina let the cat out of the bag.
All right. If that’s how it is, all right. He will go home, and they will talk, but he needs to resolve the Halliday business first. His parents aren’t responsible for the jam he’s in, and he won’t make them responsible. He won’t blame himself, either. He did what he had to do. If Halliday refuses to cut a deal, if he calls the police in spite of the reasons Pete can give him not to, then the less his parents know, the better. He doesn’t want them charged as accessories, or something.
He thinks about switching his phone off and decides not to. If she texts him again – or if Tina does – it’s better to know. He looks up at the clock and sees it’s twenty to three. Soon the bell will ring, and he’ll leave school.
Pete wonders if he’ll ever be back.
21