Somebody Owes Me Money

“That’s right,” I said. “That’s exactly right.” I tugged on Abbie’s hand, like pulling a bell rope to get the butler, and said, “Abbie, they don’t want to kill us or they’d have done it already. Sit down, why don’t you, and let’s see what they want.”

“That’s a good thought, pal,” the man with the gun said. “You just sit down on the bed there, lady, and let’s conduct this like civilized people and not like a bunch of crazy nuts.”

Abbie, her attention finally caught by my bell-rope pulling, turned to me and said, “Those two forced their way into this apartment, absolutely forced their way in. Am I going to stand for that?”

“When they have guns in their hands,” I said, “yes. Yes, you are going to stand for it. At least until we know what’s what.”

Movement attracted my attention to the doorway. I blinked.

There was a guy standing there. He was wearing a white shirt, the left sleeve of which was torn off and absolutely gone. Also, several buttons were missing and the pocket was ripped half-off and was dangling there. He was wearing black trousers, and the right leg was ripped from knee down to cuff. He had an angry-looking bruise just above his left eye, and he was holding a wet washcloth to his right cheek. He had long black hair in wild disorder on top of his head, like Stan Laurel, and he overall had the stunned look of somebody who’s just been in a train wreck.

“Good God,” I said.

In a weak and disbelieving voice this apparition said to Abbie, “You chipped my cap.”

“Serves you right,” Abbie said.

“I don’t believe it,” he said. He turned to his partner, the man with the gun, and said, “Ralph, she chipped my cap. Right in the front of my mouth.” He opened his mouth and pointed at one of his teeth with the hand that wasn’t holding the washcloth to his cheek. Trying to talk with his mouth open he said, “Do you know how nuch that cat cost ne? Do you hathe any idea at aw?”

“You forced your way in here,” Abbie told him, “and you deserve whatever you get.”

“Ralth,” the walking wounded said, still holding his mouth open and pointing to the crippled tooth, “I’n gonna kill er. I’n gonna nurder her. I’n gonna dlast!”

“Get hold of yourself, Benny,” Ralph said. “You know what Sol said. He wants to talk to these two.”

I said, “Sol? Solomon Napoli?”

Ralph turned and looked at me. “That’s the one, pal,” he said. He crooked a finger at me. “Time for you to get up outa there,” he said. “Sol’s waiting.”

I let go of Abbie’s hand, preparatory to rising, but she grabbed it again, sat on the bed beside me, put her other arm on the pillow around my head, leaned protectively over me so that I was peeking at everybody over her right breast, and turned to Ralph to say, “He’s not supposed to move. The doctor said he isn’t supposed to move for a week. He was shot last night.”

“We know,” Ralph said. “We saw it happen. That’s one of the things Sol wants to talk to him about.”

I said, “You saw it happen?” But I was drowned out by Abbie, saying, “I don’t care who wants to see Chet, he can’t be moved.”

“Shut up, lady,” Ralph said. “I’ve had all of you I’m going to take.”

“It’s okay, Abbie,” I said, struggling to get out from her protective circle. “I feel pretty good now, I could get up. Just so I don’t have to move fast or anything, I’ll be fine, I know I will.” And I sat up.

Abbie touched my bare shoulder. She looked worried. She said, “Are you sure, Chet? The doctor said—”

“Let him alone, lady,” Ralph said. “He knows what he’s doing.”

She glared at him, but for once she didn’t say anything.

I said, “What about my clothes?”

“They were all bloody,” she said. “I ran out and took them to the cleaner’s this morning.”

Ralph went over to the closet, opened it, and pulled out some clothing. “How about this stuff?” he said, and tossed it beside me on the bed.

“That’s not mine,” I said. “That was Tommy’s.”

“You can wear it,” he said. “Be my guest.”

Did I want to wear a murdered man’s clothing? I didn’t think so. I looked at Ralph, feeling very helpless, and didn’t say anything. In the meantime he was going to the dresser and opening drawers. He tossed me underwear and socks and said, “There. Now get dressed.”

I said, “Tommy was shorter than me.”

“So don’t button all the buttons,” he said.

I looked at the clothing, at Ralph, at the clothing, at Abbie, at the clothing. There didn’t seem to be any choice.

Abbie said, “Chet, are you sure you’re up to this?”

I wasn’t, but I said, “Sure I’m sure. I feel fine.”

“Get up from there, lady,” Ralph said. “Let him up.”

Abbie reluctantly got to her feet. She looked at me worriedly and said, “I’ll turn my back.” She did so, and folded her arms, and said coldly to Ralph, “If anything happens to him because of this, I’ll hold you responsible.”

“Sure, lady,” said Ralph.

I pushed the covers back, surprised at how much they weighed. I put my legs over the side of the bed, stood up, and fell down. I had no balance at all, no equilibrium, no control. I just went on over, like a duck in a shooting gallery.