"Mmm," she said.

"Have I offended you?"

She said nothing for a moment. Then, a ma.s.sive, dazzling smile, white against the vibrant red of her lips. "No. Not at all. I only wanted to make you squirm a bit."

On the way back to the motel, Chitra kept glancing over at me and grinning in a way that felt absolutely wicked. It was driving me crazy in virtually every way.

"What exactly is so funny?" I finally said.

"I grew up in a family of lapsed Hindus," she said. "My parents aren't religious, and we ate fish and chicken, but never red meat-out of habit, I suppose. I've never had a hamburger."

"You're kidding."

"No, I've never had one. Do you think I should?"

"Well, they taste good, but as a new vegetarian, I can't really endorse a move like that."

"You know what?" She was now twirling a little strand of hair above her right ear. Her ears were unusually small. "I think we should go out for hamburgers."

"Except that I'm a vegetarian. You're forgetting that part."

"I've never had one, and you're not supposed to have them. That's what will make it fun. Don't you find the forbidden exciting?"

I could think of no way to tell her that I'd had enough of the forbidden in the last twenty-four hours to last me some time. "Hamburgers aren't forbidden to me. I've given them up."

"Well, now you're challenging me, aren't you? I'm going to make it my mission to cause you to lapse."

"I have pretty good willpower."

"We'll see."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that everyone has a breaking point."

"Not me," I told her. "Once I decide to do something, that's it."

"Oh? Suppose I offered to sleep with you if you eat a hamburger?"

I stopped in my tracks.

She let out a laugh, playful and strangely innocent. "I'm not actually offering to sleep with you," she said, not stopping so that I had to dart to catch up. "I'm just making a point. You think you have an iron will, but we'll see."

"You're a.s.suming I want to sleep with you." I had no idea why I would say such a thing, but I felt exposed.

"I suppose I am," she said.

I had no response, and we walked for a moment in strained if amicable silence. I decided it was time to change the subject and raise the question I'd wanted to ask. It needed to seem casual, relaxed. "So, what's it like being in the Gambler's crew?"

She studied me as we walked. "Why?" Her voice was strangely flat.

"No reason. I'm just wondering. I work for a nice guy, but you work for the big boss. I was wondering what it was like."

"Oh, I'm sure it's pretty much the same as anyone else's. Or maybe I haven't been around long enough to know."

"Is he always like he is in the meetings? You know? So vibrant?"

"Sometimes."

"Does he ever talk about his own boss?"

There was a pause now. A long one. An unnaturally long one, as if she were trying to think about how best to answer. "Why are you asking me all of this?"

"I'm a curious guy."

"Well, there are better things to be curious about."

"Like what?"

"Like me," she said.

And that pretty much killed my line of questioning.

Chapter 19.

SETTING UP A PLACE TO MEET was the tricky part, since the Gambler didn't want to be seen with Jim Doe in public, and he figured the feeling was mutual. That meant that the police trailer and restaurant were out. So more often than not, they met in the Gambler's motel room. Doe had complained about the arrangements, finding them too gay, but as he'd been unable to come up with an acceptable alternative, the arrangements had stuck. was the tricky part, since the Gambler didn't want to be seen with Jim Doe in public, and he figured the feeling was mutual. That meant that the police trailer and restaurant were out. So more often than not, they met in the Gambler's motel room. Doe had complained about the arrangements, finding them too gay, but as he'd been unable to come up with an acceptable alternative, the arrangements had stuck.

Now he sat in the Gambler's room, drinking a cup of Dunkin' Donuts coffee, with a little Rebel Yell splashed in for good measure. It helped him to keep his head clear.

The Gambler gazed at him, looking in that high-and-mighty way that made Doe want to stick his fist through the Gambler's face. Doe saw how this was shaping up. The dust had cleared, all of Doe's hard work was getting lost in the haze of greed, and now that a.s.shole was trying to figure out who was looking to rip him off and how.

"You're still walking funny," the Gambler said. "You should see a doctor about that."

"I just pulled something moving the bodies."

"You were walking funny before we got to the bodies. If you're having leg pain or something, you shouldn't ignore it. Have a doctor check it out."

Doe didn't need this bulls.h.i.t. "It ain't nothing. Jesus. I got enough problems without you trying to be my mother."

"Okay, fine. I'm just saying to see a doctor, is all." He paused for a minute to recover his momentum. "I talked to the kid."

"Yeah?" Doe asked. "What he have to say?"

"f.u.c.k-all. They were going to buy, but balked at the last minute. What I don't get is, why would they invite him in, let him sit there for three hours, pretend they had kids?"

"Karen has kids," Doe said. "Had them, anyways. From her first husband. Little smart-a.s.s f.u.c.ker named Fred George, if you can believe that. Two first names. Worked for the bank and seemed to think that was some sort of big deal, something everyone ought to just marvel at, like being a pro football player or something. He took off and grabbed the kids when Karen first started doing meth."

"Why would she pretend she wanted to buy encyclopedias? She didn't know about the arrangement with me, did she?"

Doe didn't know the answer, but he knew that the Gambler thought thought he knew the answer, he knew the answer, thought thought he was being clever, getting the best of the conversation. "I don't f.u.c.king know, Gamb. I don't think she did. And as for why, I can't guess what went on in her head. I don't know what she was doing there with b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Maybe he was looking to rip us off, you know. Maybe he had a plan to stash the money there, maybe he was doing a deal with that money and it went bad. Could be a lot of things." he was being clever, getting the best of the conversation. "I don't f.u.c.king know, Gamb. I don't think she did. And as for why, I can't guess what went on in her head. I don't know what she was doing there with b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Maybe he was looking to rip us off, you know. Maybe he had a plan to stash the money there, maybe he was doing a deal with that money and it went bad. Could be a lot of things."

"Kid said something else."

"Yeah?" He took a sip of the coffee. It could have used more Yell.

"Said he saw you hanging around outside."

"He don't know me. How's he gonna say he saw me?"

The Gambler clucked his lips impatiently. "He gave a description that matched you."

"Handsome guy?"

The Gambler stared. "What?"

"That's a description that would point you right to me. Handsome guy?"

"f.u.c.king h.e.l.l, Doe. Is this all a big joke to you? We got dead bodies piled up to our d.i.c.ks, we've got missing money, and I've got B.B. on my case."

"B.B. is always on your case."

"Yeah, well, he isn't always on my case so much that he's even as we speak in a car on his way here to find out where the f.u.c.k his money is."

Doe felt himself blanching. "Jesus, he isn't bringing that freaky c.u.n.t, is he?"

"He brings Desiree everywhere, and since he's coming here, I guess he's bringing her. Makes sense, don't you think?"

"That girl is weird. And that scar is nasty. But you ever think she's also kind of, you know, s.e.xy? Like you wouldn't want to f.u.c.k her, but if she came up to you and was, like, Come on, let's go, you'd probably end up f.u.c.king her. You know what I mean?"

"You're going to get f.u.c.ked, and not by Desiree, if you don't start working with me."

Doe stood up. "Wait a second there, Gamb. I don't much like the way you're talking. Are you blaming blaming me for something?" me for something?"

The Gambler kept his expression blank. "I'm just trying to find out why b.a.s.t.a.r.d was acting so weird, letting one of my bookmen pitch him for three hours. And I'm trying to figure out why you were skulking outside the house the whole time."

"I saw the kid on the street, gave him some lip. That's all. I don't f.u.c.king know why b.a.s.t.a.r.d would invite him in. Maybe it was all a big joke to him."

"You want to hear my theory?"

Doe didn't especially want to hear his theory, but he figured he'd have to listen to it if he protested or not, so there was no point in griping. He sat back down.

"My theory," the Gambler said, "is that b.a.s.t.a.r.d invited the kid in because he was scared that something was going to happen to him, and he thought he needed a witness. Since you were slinking around outside, it's going to look to some people like he was afraid of you. And since you and he seemed to be f.u.c.king the same crankhead, and he ends up dead with our money missing, it's going to look to some people like you killed him and you took his money."

Doe slapped his coffee cup down, spilling it on the particleboard table. "You want to tell me which people exactly are going to see it that way?"

"B.B.," the Gambler said. "And if you don't find that money, you are going to be in some deep s.h.i.t, my friend."

That took some of the anger out of Doe. It was true enough. The Gambler was a smug old f.u.c.ker, but he knew how to call it. If B.B. was coming to check on the money, it meant he didn't believe that Doe could handle the situation. If the money didn't show up, the arrangement could be in trouble.

Still, it didn't seem inevitable that B.B. would blame Doe. All this business about how people were going to see things was c.r.a.p. The Gambler was going to make sure that B.B. saw it a certain way to cover his own a.s.s.

The fact was, Doe could come up with the money himself if he had to. It would mean a trip over to the Caymans, and it would hurt, but he could do it. He had to admit the money had had been lost on his watch. Still, he'd only consider that option when all others were exhausted. been lost on his watch. Still, he'd only consider that option when all others were exhausted.

"So what do you think happened to it?" he asked.

"I don't f.u.c.king know," the Gambler said. "It beats the s.h.i.t out of me, but you'd better find out."

"Yeah," Doe said. He finished his coffee and set down the cup, leaving it in a film of spillage on top of the table. With all the weight the Gambler was putting on him, Doe was starting to think that maybe the Gambler had the money himself. Maybe he'd killed b.a.s.t.a.r.d and Karen and taken the cash. Doe had never seen the Gambler kill anyone, but he'd seen him beat the s.h.i.t out of some crankheads trying to rip them off. It might well be that he'd gone over to see b.a.s.t.a.r.d on some ordinary business, things had gotten out of control, and the next thing you know, b.a.s.t.a.r.d and Karen are dead. Now he was either trying to cover his tracks or find some way to take advantage of the situation.

It was possible that the Gambler was setting him up not just in case-but setting him up, period. And that meant Doe was going to have to do some clever thinking to get out of this.

Once Doe had left the room, B.B. came out of the bathroom, where he'd been hiding in the tub behind a tan shower curtain streaked with a Milky Way of mildew. Now he walked into the room and took a seat at the foot of the bed. He dusted off his linen suit and flattened out his pants as he walked.

B.B. sat in the armchair but shot up almost at once. "The chair is wet," he said.

"It's just water," the Gambler said. "I spilled some ice last night."

"You saw I was going to sit in a wet chair, and you didn't say anything?"

"Jesus. I spilled the water last night. I forgot about it."

B.B. went into the bathroom and got a hand towel, which he dabbed repeatedly against his a.s.s.

He'd always been a little off, but this was how it had been going lately-fussing over his clothes, his hair, and his shoes like a woman, obsessing over the smallest and strangest details of the operation, having his crazy scarred bikini girl do all the important work. Lately he'd been distracted, as though the business were taking him away from something more important.

That morning, while they'd been waiting for Doe to show up, after agreeing that B.B. would hide in the bathroom, he'd wandered off without telling the Gambler where he was going and when he'd be back. Next thing you know, there's no B.B. The Gambler had stuck his head out the door and seen him, on the balcony, staring at a couple of shirtless boys by the pool. If Doe had come by, the plan would have been shot to h.e.l.l.

Not that the Gambler cared. If B.B. wanted to go around f.u.c.king boys or chickens or accident fatalities, that was his problem, but don't forget you're running a business. That was the thing. You took care of business first, and you kept your eye on the ball.

It was at that moment-when he saw B.B. leaning against the rail, leering at a couple of boys like a drunk in a strip club-that the Gambler knew he couldn't let things go on this way. For everyone's good. The only problem was that he had no idea how how to take over. This wasn't to take over. This wasn't The G.o.dfather. The G.o.dfather. He couldn't have his boys whack B.B.'s boys. There were no boys to speak of and no whacking. Their operation didn't work that way. They kept it low-key, what with the encyclopedia front and the hog lot front. He couldn't have his boys whack B.B.'s boys. There were no boys to speak of and no whacking. Their operation didn't work that way. They kept it low-key, what with the encyclopedia front and the hog lot front.

Now B.B. was staring at him, slightly red in his smooth, babyish face, wiping at his a.s.s as though he'd just taken a s.h.i.t. "Next time be a little more mindful."

"Sure. Fine. Whatever." The Gambler held up his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry you sat in my wet chair. Let's move on."

B.B. tossed the towel on the Gambler's bed. "I just don't like to sit in wet things."

"Let's move on. on."

Pressing a hand to the corner of the bed, testing for hidden wetness, B.B. considered for a moment and then sat very carefully, as though the bed might turn into a fountain if he weren't careful. "Those two kids by the pool. You know them?"

"Why would I know anything about kids by the pool?"