The Specialists

Eighteen

“You see, it’s so dreadfully dull here,” Marlene Platt said. “As cloistered as a convent, but no other nuns around for company. I hope you’ll liven things up, Eddie.”

“I don’t even know how long I’ll be here.”

“Oh, bullshit,” she said. She had a habit of peppering her cultured, slightly affected speech with vulgarisms. “The prodigal son has returned. He’ll live out his days with his handsome father and his wicked stepmother—”

“His beautiful stepmother.”

“Thank you.”

“And I’m not even sure Albert Platt is my father, Marlene. If it turns out that he is, well, we seem to hit it off pretty well, and I suppose he’ll be able to find some work I can do. And if it proves out the other way, I’ll get on my horse and ride off into the sunset. I used to love westerns when I was a kid. There were a couple of years when I don’t think I once missed a Saturday double feature. I must have seen, oh, I don’t know how many movies.”

“You wouldn’t do it,” she said.

“Do what? See a movie?”

She tilted her head back, lowered her eyes to look at him. Movies, he thought; God, the woman was a collection of learned lines and gestures, all of it wholly artificial and poorly integrated.

He was unable to figure her out. At first it had bothered him, but after a day or two he stopped caring and simply wanted her to leave him alone. He had toyed with the idea of throwing a pass her way. Not, certainly, because he wanted her to keep him company in the sack. She had the looks for it, but he had the feeling that underneath that fine skin she was all cotton candy and feathers. But it had seemed to him that a pass would win whether it won or lost. If she hopped into bed with him, then he had a friend in the enemy camp. If she reacted the other way entirely, at least she would avoid him, which would simplify his life considerably.

Somehow he had never quite brought himself to go through with it. There was just no margin for error; if she went screaming to Platt, it would tear everything to hell and gone. By now there was no longer any point to it. It was Tuesday evening. In the morning—

“Ride off into the sunset,” she said slowly. “You wouldn’t do it, not in a million years. Nobody does.”

“Well, I—”

“Nobody leaves this house, Eddie.”

The words were chilling, He remembered Platt showing him around the grounds. You wouldn’t want to know for instance what’s under that bush or what’s next to that tree, kid. Buddy is over there. Just a couple of days and already you can hardly make out the seams in the grass. Go ahead, take a close look.

“Nobody ever leaves. The life’s too good. It’s very comfortable being Al Platt’s wife. I’m sure it’ll be just as comfortable being Al Platt’s son.”

“But if it turns out I’m not his son—”

“Don’t be a schmuck. He’s very excited about the whole thing, as though you just came on the scene as living testimony to his manhood.” She put her hand to her forehead, rearranged a few strands of silky black hair. “Now, Eddie, you and I both know you’re a sharp boy looking for a soft touch, and it was a good idea you came up with, posing as Al’s son. He won’t even try to prove otherwise. You’re too good for his ego.”

“Marlene, you make it sound as though—”

“As though your story is a lot of crap? Well, isn’t it? You don’t have to answer.” She stubbed out a cigarette. “You think I care? He’ll go through the motions of checking the story, then he’ll say it won’t prove one way or the other but what the hell, you’re like a son to him, and you’ll stay with the easy living, Eddie, and you’ll be here a long time before you realize how much it’s costing you. You’re what? Twenty-eight?”

He nodded. He’d leave in the morning, he decided. Turn the car back to the rental agency, then up to Tarrytown and he’d be with the rest of them for twenty-four hours before they hit the bank. He’d tell Platt he had to go see a girl in Philly, something like that.

“I was twenty-seven when I married Al. Five years ago.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Wait until you see yourself five years from now, Eddie.”

He grinned. “Yes, Mother.”

“No jokes. It costs, all of this. Could you hear last night?”

“Hear?”

“He brought a girl home last night. One of his whores. He took us to bed. The three of us went to bed. A nice little family unit.”

Manso knew this. He had seen Platt with the girl, had heard the three of them together. Now he avoided Marlene’s eyes.

“Albert does like to prove his manhood. I’m surprised he didn’t ask you to join us. His son and his wife and his whore all together, and it would have been perfect wouldn’t it? Because I’m not his wife, not in my heart at least, and you’re not his son, and that blonde slut, for all I know she’s not his whore. You should have joined us, Eddie.”

He said nothing.

“I think I’d have liked that,” she said. Her eyes caught his. “I think I’d have liked it a lot. Myths are very compelling, aren’t they? Oedipus and all that, Eddie—”

“I guess I’ll go have a cup of coffee,” he said.

“Why don’t you,” she said. “A nice cup of coffee. Why were you trying to open the safe, Eddie?”

“Huh?”

“Oh, cut the shit, as Albert would say. The wall safe. I saw you.”

“Just testing my talents,” he managed.

“Come again?”

“A fellow once taught me how to knock off a combination lock by listening to the way the tumblers fall into place. I saw the safe, I thought I’d see if I could still do it.”

“You have interesting talents.”

“Well, you pick things up. Like another guy, an Army buddy of mine, taught me how to hypnotize people. Ever been hypnotized, Marlene?”

“Constantly. Does Al know about your talents?”

“I don’t really know.”

“Does he know you pinched his wallet the other day? You wouldn’t take money, you’re not that stupid, but you must have been looking for something.”

“His driver’s license. I expected him to be older than he said he was, and I wanted to check without being obvious about it.”

“You’d better go have that coffee now.”

“Sure,” he said.

When he was halfway to the door, she called his name and stopped him. He turned. She said, “He won’t be back for a couple of hours. He went to see the Greeks in Trenton. He never gets back from there before midnight. Take your choice.”

“My choice?”

“Choose coffee and I tell him. About the safe and the wallet. He might believe you.”

“And the other choice?”

“Me.”

He killed time lighting a cigarette. His mind flipped through alternatives. Easiest and safest was to knock her cold and just go out. Platt was away and he could come and go as he wished. Or did the guards have instructions to keep him on the premises? He didn’t really know, and it could be bad to commit oneself in advance.

Coffee or Marlene? He was almost certain that it would be at least as dangerous to accept her offer as to reject it. He had the feeling he was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t.

“You can always have the coffee afterward, Eddie. Don’t take so long to make up your mind, dear. It’s not very flattering.”