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My friend s got a problem.
Ray blanks the screen, takes her hand, holds it, Your taste in friends is improving.
Sorry Rita s out, she d want to meet you. Reluctantly, it seems to Night, he lets go
her hand, falls back onto the couch, props slippered feet on inch thick plate glass.
[ 142 ]
S ee N ight R un
What s so important you interrupt my research?
She hands Ray the agreement, and he fishes bifocals out of his robe pocket, reads,
motions them to sit.
In a living room with a ceiling twenty feet high, they watch him read. Night has
always wondered how they change the bulbs.
Uh, huh. Uh, huh. Oh, that s great. He chuckles. Oh, marvelous. He peers
up at them over his glasses, looking a Benjamin Franklin with out of place toupee.
The paper he taps with a nail. They saw you coming, this is really a beaut. Rita
should see this! She d get a kick out of it. So you agreed to pay off all your ex s debts
so you could get the house. Ray says this as if it were a great joke. Noticing their eyes
on the top of his head, he reaches up, flings off the toupee, Rita insists I wear the
damned thing.
Night meets Ceridwen s eye, sees her suppress a smile.
So what do you think, Ray, anything she can do?
I ll tell you what you can do don t pay. He snarls, disgusted, tosses the docu-
ment onto the table as if it were junk mail. The agreement s invalid, unenforceable.
They re his debts. You re divorced. How can they force you to pay them? They can t.
It s the oldest, dirtiest trick in the book. He runs a hand over a bald pate. I assume
you saved money by not hiring an attorney?
She nods.
Your first mistake. Hey, I know we re evil, but we re a necessary one. And you ve
been paying these debts, whatever they are?
She nods. Two years.
Don t pay another nickel. I ll write him and his attorney tomorrow to let them
know you re done being a patsy. I ll have Rita file legal notice in the Guard. He
picks up a dictating recorder, scoops up the agreement. Okay if I keep this?
She nods.
Into the recorder he mumbles, leafing through the agreement. When he has fin-
ished, he sets it aside, levels a finger at Ceridwen. Not another cent, you under-
stand? If it doesn t have your name on it, mark it return to sender. He walks them to
the door. I ll take care of it tomorrow, send you a copy along with your originals.
Again she offers her hand. Thanks, Ray. I don t believe it, but thanks. Send me
the bill, okay?
He laughs. Don t worry about it. Night s family. He clamps a big hand on Night s
shoulder, Night s going to frame me my new gazebo, aren t you, Night, old buddy.
Night can t dislike anybody that direct. I am?
Sure you are, thought I told you.
Send the plans over with Jade. I ve got next weekend off. Materials be here?
Waiting back there now. Hey, you guys want to catch the end of the game? It s a
close one. I ve got Oregon ale in the fridge. Seeing their hesitation he opens the
door. Of course you don t. Now remember, not another cent. And kiss Jade for
me.
" " "
On the ride back, Ceridwen stares numbly out the windshield.
So much has happened so quickly. I can t believe it. She looks at Night. It s
really over?
Looks that way.
[ 143 ]
D . W . S T . J O HN
Suddenly she thinks of something and reels, feeling rich. I didn t mail the checks
yet.
Good timing.
They pull up outside the house and he kills the engine. Neither of them makes a
move to get out. The Lincoln ticks as it cools.
I want to pay you what I owe you for those washer parts.
Sure.
It is maddening the way he gives in and doesn t really budge at all. I mean it.
I ll find the receipt, I ve got it somewhere.
She doesn t buy it. And now this. How does she repay him for this? Impossible.
He faces her, one arm on the wheel, one on the back of the seat. I didn t do
anything.
She watches him, thinks she sees sadness. You are the strangest person I ve ever
known. You keep doing things for me for us why?
He throws open his door. Let s walk, you want to do that, you want to walk?
You don t need to lie down?
No. He gets out, careful about how he moves, I need a walk. It helps.
They walk up Villard to Fairmount as it meanders under drooping oak and maple
before quiet homes. Night savors what may be their last time together. After the
warrant service she ll want nothing more to do with him.
Cresting the hill in silence, he spots a pair of gray squirrels on an expanse of
sloping lawn and reaches out to alert her. Larger sprints after smaller, who waits
coyly for her pursuer. Night whispers in her ear, Catch that come-hither look?
A don t-you-dare look is what that is.
The male leaps to clasp her from behind.
There he goes misinterpreting.
Typical male.
Night watches as the female disengages, bounds up a leaning big leaf maple. Now
what s that about?
Regained her senses.
Guess not, she s waiting.
Run, you fool, she says. Now, while you can.
Too late.
She sighs, So much heartache just to insure the exchange of genetic material.
There must be an easier way.
Name one.
She cants her head, How about a lottery.
Night doesn t follow. A lottery?
Yeah, everybody sends in a sample of DNA and the postal service sends them
back out in random distribution.
He can t help grinning, The postal service?
Why not? Think of all the misunderstandings, all the hurt feelings, all the cruelty
we could sidestep.
I ll stick with what I know. Thanks anyway.
She laughs under her breath. That was fast.
Exceptionally high strung mammals, squirrels.
She gives him a cynical look. Irksome personal experience has revealed the con-
[ 144 ]
S ee N ight R un
trary.
Understanding, Night suppresses a smile. You re associating with the wrong mam-
mals.
They move on, Night following the pair s overhead retreat. And there they go,
hunting for a cheap studio.
Oh, sure, he stays with her now. What about when there are six mewling little
bundles of joy in a cramped little hole with no bath high over the street. What then?
Maybe he s smart enough to hang around, bring home the nuts, spend nights
spooning mama squirrel.
And maybe not.
The rest of the block they walk in silence.
She is first to speak. What s it like being a narc?
He should have known it was coming. Next come the jokes about doughnuts.
It s a job.
That s all it is, a job?
No. He doesn t mind telling her. It s more than that. It s a chance to clean up
some of the mess out there, to fight for truth, justice, and the American way.
She gives him an austere look. Don t make fun. You re serious about it, aren t
you.
He reaches back to massage his lower back, wishing he d brought the Vicoden
with him. It is beginning to get bad. Yeah. I m serious.
You ever question what you do?
Easy answer used to be anyway. Recently he s not so sure. Never.
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