Beth Lassiter is just crying now, her red, terrified eyes fixed on him, as if she’s afraid to look away.
He has pulled up a chair and is sitting close to her.
“I will remove the tape so that we can have a civilized conversation,” Robby says. “But I want you to know that if you scream, I will shoot you right now. Nod if you understand what I’m saying to you.”
When Beth Lassiter nods, vigorously, eyes focused on the gun, he reaches over and removes the tape, trying not to hurt her as he pulls it off her.
As soon as he does, she says, “I can have the money by the end of the week. I told Jeb that.”
Robby sighs. “But that was a lie, wasn’t it, Beth?”
“No,”she says. “My sister … in San Francisco … her husband is rich.”
Robby is sadly shaking his head. “There is no sister,” he says. “There is no money, apart from all that you lost becauseyou were dumb enough to bet on baseball in the first place, and then keep doing it once you were in the hole.”
She starts to sob now, chest rising and falling, almost unable to breathe.
“Beth, Beth, Beth,” Robby says, patting her knee. “You should know as well as anyone that there’s no crying in baseball.”
“I … just a little more time,” she says, barely able to get the words out.
“And if it were my decision to make,” Robby says, “I would give you that time. But my employer has decided to make an example out of you.”
“But if I’m dead, you’ll never get the money,” she says.
“Unfortunately, my employer sees no reasonable expectation to get it with you alive, even if he takes everything you own,” he says. “Which, frankly, and without being too hurtful, isn’t much at this point, is it?”
The last thing she sees before he shoots her are the flowers, as if she’s somehow done the arrangements for her own funeral.
After he’s staged the robbery scene to his satisfaction, he lets himself out the back door and begins walking back across the parking lot to his car. As he does, one of his favorite songs fromLes Misis back inside his head.
“Lovely ladies, ready for the call,” he sings. “Standing up or lying down.”
As always,Robby tells himself,you never really can go wrong with a show tune.
FORTY-ONE
DR. BEN KALINSKY AND I had scheduled a stay-at-home date for tonight.
“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” I said after informing him that I would be doing all of the cooking.
“Isn’t that supposed to be your line?” he said. “And just for the record, counselor? Ilikeyour cooking, something I’ve pointed out on multiple occasions.”
“Okay, it’s official,” I said. “You really do love me.”
But a few minutes ago he called to tell me he’s going to be late: he’s stopped to check out some police activity at Bridgehampton Commons on his way from Southampton; he couldn’t help himself.
“You poor thing,” I said. “I’ve gone and turned you into a crime junkie.”
“Next I’m getting one of those police streamers.”
“Scanners,” I correct him. “And what kind of activity is going on, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“You know that little flower shop in the Commons?”
“Sadly, I do not.”
“Well, it’s where, about a month ago, I picked up that orchid you like,” he says. “Woman named Beth owns it. Or did.”
