Promised Land

Chapter 18

Shepard looked at me expectantly when he was through telling me his sins.

“What do you want,” I said, “absolution? Say two Our Fathers and three Hail Marys and make a good act of contrition? Confession may be good for the soul but it’s not going to help your body any if we can’t figure a way out.”

“What could I do,” he said. “I was in a corner, I had to crib on the escrow money. Estate Management got off with four or five million bucks. Was I supposed to watch it all go down the pipe? Everything I’ve been working for? Everything I am?”

“Someday we can talk about just what the hell you were working for, and maybe even what you are. Not now. How hot is Powers breathing on your neck?”

“We’ve got a meeting set up for tomorrow.”

“Where?”

“At Hawk’s room in the Holiday Inn.”

“Okay, I’ll go with you.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I’ve got to think. But it’s better than going alone, isn’t it.”

Shepard’s breath came out in a rush. “Oh, hell, yes,” he said, and finished the bourbon.

“Maybe we can talk them into an extension,” I said. “The more time I got, the more chance to work out something.”

“But what can we do?”

“I don’t know. What Powers is doing, remember, is illegal. If we get really stuck we can blow the whistle and you can be state’s evidence against Powers and get out of it with a tongue-lashing.”

“But I’m ruined.”

“Depends how you define ruined,” I said. “Being King Powers’ partner, rich or poor, would be awful close to ruination. Being dead also.”

“No,” he said. “I can’t go to the cops.”

“Not yet you can’t. Maybe later you’ll have to.”

“How would I get Pam back? Broke, no business, my name in the papers for being a goddamned crook? You think she’d come back and live with me in a four-room cottage while I collected welfare?”

“I don’t know. She doesn’t seem to be coming back to you while, as far as she knows, you’re up on top.”

“You don’t know her. She’s always watching. Who’s got how much, whose house is better or worse than ours, whose lawn is greener or browner. You don’t know her.”

“She’s another problem,” I said. “We’ll work on her too, but we can’t get into marriage encounter until this problem is solved.”

“Yeah, but just remember, what I told you is absolutely confidential. I can’t risk everything. There’s got to be another way.”

“Harv,” I said. “You’re acting like you got lots of options. You don’t. You reduced your options when you dipped into the escrow, and you goddamned near eliminated them when you took some of Powers’ money. We’re talking about people who might shoot you. Remember that.”

Shepard nodded. “There’s got to be a way.”

“Yeah, there probably is. Let me think about it. What time’s the meeting tomorrow?”

“One o’clock.”

“I’ll pick you up at your house about twelve forty-five. Go home, stay there. If I need you I want to be able to reach you.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to think.”

Shepard left. Half sloshed and a little relieved. Talking about a problem sometimes gives you the illusion you’ve done something about it. At least he wasn’t trying to handle it alone. Nice clientele I had. The cops wanted Pam and the crooks wanted Harv.

I went out to the pool. Susan was sitting in a chaise in her red-flowered one-piece suit reading The Children of the Dream, by Bruno Bettelheim. She had on big, gold-rimmed sunglasses and a large white straw hat with a red band that matched the bathing suit. I stopped before she saw me and looked at her. Jesus Christ, I thought. How could anyone have ever divorced her? Maybe she’d divorced him. We’d never really talked much about it. But even so, where was he? If she’d divorced me, I’d have followed her around for the rest of our lives. I walked over, put my arms on either side of her and did a push-up on the chaise. Lowering myself until our noses touched.

“If you and I were married, and you divorced me, I would follow you around the rest of my life,” I said.

“No you wouldn’t,” she said. “You’d be too proud.”

“I would assault anyone you dated.”

“That I believe. But you’re not married to me and get off of me, you goof. You’re just showing off.”

I did five or six push-ups over her on the chaise.

“Why do you say that?” I said.

She poked me with her index finger in the solar plexus. “Off,” she said.

I did one more push-up. “You know what this makes me think of?’‘

”Of course I know what it makes you think of. Now get the hell off me, you’re bending my book.“

I snapped off one more push-up and bounced off the chaise the way a gymnast dismounts the parallel bars. Straightening to attention as my feet hit.

”Once you put adolescence behind you,“ Susan said, ”you’ll be quite an attractive guy, a bit physical but… attractive. What did Shepard want?“

”Help,“ I said. ”He’s into a loan shark as we assumed, and the loan shark wants his business.“ I got a folding chair from across the pool and brought it back and sat beside Susan and told her about Shepard and his problem.

”That means you are going to have to deal with Hawk,“ Susan said.

”Maybe,“ I said.

She clamped her mouth in a thin line and took a deep breath through her nose. ”What are you going to do?“

”I don’t know. I thought I’d go down and sit in the bar and think. Want to come?“

She shook her head. ”No, I’ll stay here and read and maybe swim in a while. When you think of something, let me know. We can have lunch or something to celebrate.“

I leaned over and kissed her on the shoulder, and went to the bar. There were people having lunch, but not many drinking. I sat at the far end of the bar, ordered a Harp on draft and started in on the peanuts in the dark wooden bowl in front of me.

I had two problems. I had to take King Powers off of Shepard’s back and I had to get Pam Shepard off the hook for armed robbery and murder. Saps. I was disgusted with both of them. It’s an occupational hazard, I thought. Everyone gets contemptuous after a while of his clients. Teachers get scornful of students, doctors of patients, bartenders of drinkers, salesmen of buyers, clerks of customers. But, Jesus, they were saps. The Promised Land. Holy Christ. I had another beer. The peanut bowl was empty. I rattled it on the bar until the bartender came down and refilled it. Scornfully, I thought. Guns, I thought. Get guns and disarm phallic power. Where the hell were they going to get guns? They could look in the Yellow Pages under gunrunner. I could put them in touch with somebody like King Powers. Then when he sold them the guns they could shoot him and that would solve Shepard’s problem… or I could frame Powers. No, frame wasn’t right. Entrapment. That’s the word. I could entrap Powers. Not for sharking: That would get Shepard in the soup too. But for illegal gun sales. Done right it would get him off Shepard’s back for quite a long time. It would also get Rose and Jane out of Pam Shepard’s life. But why wouldn’t they take Pam with them? Because I could deal with the local D.A.: Powers and two radical feminists on a fresh roll, if he kept the Shepards out of it. I liked it. It needed a little more shape and substance. But I liked it. It could work. My only other idea was appealing to Powers’ better instincts. That didn’t hold much promise. Entrapment was better. I was going to flimflam the old King. A little Scott Joplin music in the background, maybe. I had another beer and ate more peanuts and thought some more.

Susan came in from the pool with a thigh-length white lace thing over her bathing suit, and slid onto the barstool next to me.

”Cogito ergo sum,“ I said.

”Oh absolutely,“ she said. ”You’ve always been sicklied over with the pale cast of thought.“

”Wait’ll you hear,“ I said.