Sandler: Eight, ten grand. That’s great. Really helps out, right? We all got a lot of bills. So, how many other places you got an arrangement with?
Ellinger: Brian, what is this? You want to know whether I’m declaring this on my income tax?
Sandler: (laughs) No, shit, no.
Ellinger: It’s just, you’ve got a lot of questions.
Sandler: This whole thing, it still makes me nervous, you know? And those twins, they did hold my finger in the fryer, remember.
Ellinger: Yeah, that’s gotta hurt.
Sandler: So I’m just sayin’, I want to feel my way carefully with this. I got bills too.
Ellinger: Okay. I just need to know you’re not fucking around with me. Right?
Sandler: No, man. I’m not.
Ellinger: I just need to know.
Sandler: I told you. You don’t have to worry about me.
Ellinger: Because there’d be a shit storm, you started fucking around with me. And it wouldn’t be just me, right? Mrs. Gorkin, those little darlins of hers, you don’t want to go pissing them off.
Sandler: No, for sure.
Ellinger: You hot?
Sandler: Huh?
Ellinger: You hot? You look hot. You’re all sweating, like.
Sandler: No, I’m good. Listen, I’ll let you go. I got stuff, you know.
Ellinger: I’ll make the call. Maybe tomorrow. Okay?
Sandler: Yeah, good. That’s fine. Whenever.
That was it.
I listened to the entire exchange a second time. I had to hand it to Sandler. It was good stuff. I could see the entire conversation, reprinted nearly word for word, at least those that the Metropolitan would print without dashes, as a sidebar to a main story. People love reading those kinds of things. Brings a story into focus more quickly than a lot of exposition.
I’d have more questions to ask him the following morning when we met in Bayside Park. I decided, for safety’s sake, that maybe it was wise for at least one more copy of this audio file to be out there, so I forwarded it to Lawrence Jones, marked it “FYI” and included a short explanatory note. Lawrence does a lot of surveillance work, and might have some words of wisdom on just how incriminating this exchange was for Frank Ellinger.
I exited the mail program and decided to give the shower another try. There was enough hot water. Just.
Paul was home shortly before four, and Angie appeared not long after that.
“Why don’t you guys go out and get some dinner, give me and Mom some time alone tonight,” I said. “Things have been a bit rocky lately, and I’m hoping maybe I can smooth things over a bit now that this whole Trixie thing is over with.”
“Okay,” Paul said. “But we’re going to need some cash.”
I dug a twenty out of my wallet and handed it to Angie, who was closer. She examined the bill in my hand. “Is this some sort of a joke?” she asked. She had that wry look in her eye, the one that said You know I’m kidding, right? I dug out another ten and handed it over. “I suppose we’ll be able to get something with this,” she said.
“Jeez,” Paul said to his sister as they walked away. “I thought twenty was good. Nice going.”
There’s an Italian place down around the corner where Sarah and I sometimes go for a sit-down dinner. But they do a bit of takeout and delivery on the side, so I ordered two veal et limone with sides of pasta and arranged to have them delivered at seven.
I put on some Errol Garner (the Lawrence Jones influence), set the table with a cloth and napkins and everything, turned down the lights, lit some candles, and awaited Sarah’s arrival.
Her car pulled into the drive at six-thirty, and I met her at the door with a glass of wine.
Her eyes darted about, caught the candles, the elegantly set table in the dining room off the kitchen.
“Well,” she said, dropping her purse and taking the glass of chilled wine from my hand.
“I love you, Sarah,” I said. “I’m a dipshit, a pain in the neck, a busybody, an asshole of the first order. Ask anybody. I can supply references. I’m sorry for the things I’ve put you through. God knows how I do it. Up until three years ago, I’d barely had a parking ticket, and then, it’s like, I don’t know, I got cursed with catastrophe. And the only thing that’s gotten me through all this has been you. I love you more than anything in the world, Sarah.”
She studied my face, took a sip of her wine. “Is this whole speech just designed to get me into the sack?”
“Not specifically, but if it works out that way, I won’t pretend that I’m sorry.” I set my wine down and took a step toward her, put my hands on the sides of her shoulders. “I want to start over. This is the night where my life, where our life together, takes a new turn. No more troubles. No more craziness. From here on, we’re going to lead the most boring lives in the world. Want an adventure? I’ll take you to Home Depot. That’s as wild as it’s going to get around here from now on.”
Sarah put her wineglass next to mine and slipped her arms around me. “I love you.”