Eight Million Ways To Die

"I make money but I don't get to keep it. And I don't really make more money than I did on the street.

But I have a little money."

"Oh?"

"I have a thousand dollars."

I didn't say anything. She opened her purse, found a plain white envelope, got a finger under the flap and tore it open. She took a sheaf of bills from it and placed them on the table between us.

"You could see him for me," she said.

I picked up the money, held it in my hand. I was being offered the opportunity to serve as intermediary between a blonde whore and a black pimp. It was not a role I'd ever hungered for.

I wanted to hand the money back. But I was nine or ten days out ofRooseveltHospital and I owed money there, and on the first of the month my rent would be due, and I hadn't sent anything to Anita and the boys in longer than I cared to remember. I had money in my wallet and more money in the bank but it didn't add up to much, and Kim Dakkinen's money was as good as anybody else's and easier to come by, and what difference did it make what she'd done to earn it?

I counted the bills. They were used hundreds and there were ten of them. I left five on the table in front of me and handed the other five to her. Her eyes widened a little and I decided she had to be wearing contacts. Nobody had eyes that color.

I said, "Five now and five later. If I get you off the hook."

"Deal," she said, and grinned suddenly. "You could have had the whole thousand in front."

"Maybe I'll work better with an incentive. You want some more coffee?"

"If you're having some. And I think I'd like something sweet. Do they have desserts here?"

"The pecan pie's good. So's the cheesecake."

"I love pecan pie," she said. "I have a terrible sweet tooth but I never gain an ounce. Isn't that lucky?"

Chapter 2

There was a problem. In order for me to talk to Chance I had to find him, and she couldn't tell me how to do it.

"I don't know where he lives," she said. "Nobody does."

"Nobody?"

"None of his girls. That's the big guessing game if a couple of us should happen to be together and he's not in the room. Trying to guess where Chance lives. One night I remember this girl Sunny and I were together and we were just goofing, coming up with one outrageous idea after another. Like he lives in this tenement inHarlem with his crippled mother, or he has this mansion in Sugar Hill, or he has a ranch house in the suburbs and commutes. Or he keeps a couple of suitcases in his car and lives out of them, just sleeping a couple hours a night at one of our apartments." She thought a moment. "Except he never sleeps when he's with me. If we do go to bed he'll just lie there afterward for a little while and then he's up and dressed and out. He said once he can't sleep if there's another person in the room."

"Suppose you have to get in touch with him?"

"There's a number to call. But it's an answering service. You can call the number any time, twenty-four hours a day, and there's always an operator that answers. He always checks in with his service. If we're out or something, he'll check in with them every thirty minutes, every hour."

She gave me the number and I wrote it in my notebook. I asked her where he garaged his car. She didn't know. Did she remember the car's license number?

She shook her head. "I never notice things like that. His car is a Cadillac."

"There's a surprise. Where does he hang out?"

"I don't know. If I want to reach him I leave a message. I don't go out looking for him. You mean is there a regular bar he drinks in?

There's a lot of places he'll go sometimes, but nothing regular."

"What kind of things does he do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Does he go to ball games? Does he gamble? What does he do with himself?"

She considered the question. "He does different things," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"Depending who he's with. I like to go to jazz clubs so if he's with me that's where we'll go. I'm the one he calls if he's looking for that kind of an evening. There's another girl, I don't even know her, but they go to concerts. You know, classical music. Carnegie Hall and stuff. Another girl, Sunny, digs sports, and he'll take her to ball games."

"How many girls has he got?"

"I don't know. There's Sunny andNan and the girl who likes classical music. Maybe there's one or two others. Maybe more. Chance is very private, you know? He keeps things to himself."

"The only name you've got for him is Chance?"

"That's right."

"You've been with him, what, three years? And you've got half a name and no address and the number of his answering service."

She looked down at her hands.

"How does he pick up the money?"

"From me, you mean? Sometimes he'll come by for it."

"Does he call first?"

"Not necessarily. Sometimes. Or he'll call and tell me to bring it to him. At a coffee shop or a bar or something, or to be on a certain corner and he'll pick me up."

"You give him everything you make?"