Leviathan (27 page)

“You’re awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Only because I know what I’m talking about.”

“And this can’t wait until morning?”

“No. I’ve got to talk to you now. Just give me half an hour, and then I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

Without saying another word, Lillian Stern removed a set of keys from her coat pocket, walked up the steps, and opened the door to the house. Sachs followed her across the threshold and entered the darkened hallway. Nothing was taking place as he had imagined it would, and even after the light went on, even after he watched her carry her daughter upstairs to bed, he wondered how he was going to find the courage to talk to her, to tell her what he had come three thousand miles to tell.

He heard her close the door of her daughter’s bedroom, but instead of coming downstairs again, she went into another room and used the phone. He distinctly heard her dial a number, but then, just as she spoke Maria’s name, the door slammed shut and the ensuing conversation was lost to him. Lillian’s voice filtered down through the ceiling as a wordless rumble, an erratic hum of sighs and pauses and muffled bursts. Desperate as he was to know what she was saying, his ears weren’t sharp enough, and he abandoned the effort after one or two minutes. The longer the conversation continued, the more nervous he became. Not knowing what else to do, he left his spot at the bottom of the stairs and began wandering in and out of the ground-floor rooms. There were just three of them, and each one was in woeful disarray. Dirty dishes were piled high in the kitchen sink; the living room was a chaos of scattered pillows, overturned chairs, and brimming ashtrays; the dining room table had collapsed. One by one, Sachs switched on the lights and then switched them off. It was a mean place, he discovered, a house of unhappiness and troubled thoughts, and it stunned him just to look at it.

The phone conversation lasted another fifteen or twenty minutes. By the time he heard Lillian hang up, Sachs was in the hall again, waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. She came down looking grim-faced and sullen, and from the faint trembling he detected in her lower lip, he gathered that she had been crying. The coat she had been wearing earlier was gone, and her dress had been replaced by a pair of black jeans and a white T-shirt. Her feet were bare, he noticed, and her toenails were painted a vivid red. Even though he was looking straight at her the whole time, she refused to return his glance as she descended the stairs. When she reached the bottom, he moved aside to let her pass, and it was only then, when she was halfway to the kitchen, that she stopped and turned to him, addressing him from over her left shoulder.

“Maria says hello,” she said. “She also says that she doesn’t understand what you’re doing here.”

Without waiting for a response, she continued on into the kitchen. Sachs couldn’t tell if she wanted him to follow her or stay where he was, but he decided to go in anyway. She flicked on the overhead light, groaned softly to herself when she saw the state of the room, and then turned her back on him and opened a cupboard. She took out a bottle of Johnnie Walker, found an empty glass in another cupboard, and poured herself a drink. It would have been impossible not to see the hostility buried in that gesture. She neither offered him a drink nor asked him to sit down, and all of a sudden Sachs realized that he was in danger of losing control of the situation. It had been his show, after all, and now here he was with her, inexplicably reeling and tongue-tied, unsure of how to begin.

She took a sip of her drink and eyed him from across the room. “Maria says she doesn’t understand what you’re doing here,” she repeated. Her voice was husky and without expression, and yet the very flatness of it conveyed scorn, a scorn verging on contempt.

“No,” Sachs said, “I don’t imagine she does.”

“If you have something to tell me, you’d better tell it to me now. And then I want you on your way. Do you understand that? On your way and out of here.”

“I’m not going to cause any trouble.”

“There’s nothing to stop me from calling the police, you know. All I have to do is pick up the phone, and your life goes straight down the toilet. I mean, what fucking planet were you born on anyway? You shoot my husband, and then you come out here and expect me to be nice to you?”

“I didn’t shoot him. I’ve never held a gun in my life.”

“I don’t care what you did. It’s got nothing to do with me.”

“Of course it does. It has everything to do with you. It has everything to do with both of us.”

“You want me to forgive you, don’t you? That’s why you came. To fall on your knees and beg my forgiveness. Well, I’m not interested. It’s not my job to forgive people. That’s not my line of work.”

“Your little girl’s father is dead, and you’re telling me you don’t care?”

“I’m telling you it’s none of your business.”

“Didn’t Maria mention the money?”

“The money?”

“She told you, didn’t she?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I have money for you. That’s why I’m here. To give you the money.”

“I don’t want your money. I don’t want a goddamned thing from you. I just want you to get out.”

“You’re turning me down before you’ve heard what I have to say.”

“Because I don’t trust you. You’re after something, and I don’t know what it is. No one gives away money for nothing.”

“You don’t know me, Lillian. You don’t have the slightest idea of what I’m about.”

“I’ve learned enough. I’ve learned enough to know that I don’t like you.”

“I didn’t come here to be liked. I came to help you, that’s all, and what you think of me is unimportant.”

“You’re crazy, do you know that? You talk just like a crazy man.”

“The only crazy thing would be for you to deny what’s happened. I’ve taken something from you, and now I’m here to give you something
back. It’s that simple. I didn’t choose you. Circumstances gave you to me, and now I’ve got to make good on my end of the bargain.”

“You’re beginning to sound like Reed. A fast-talking son-of-a-bitch, all puffed up with your stupid arguments and theories. But it won’t wash, professor. There is no bargain. It’s all in your head, and I don’t owe you a thing.”

“That’s just it. You don’t. I’m the one who owes you.”

“Bullshit.”

“If my reasons don’t interest you, then don’t think about my reasons. But take the money. If not for yourself, then at least for your little girl. I’m not asking you for anything. I just want you to have it.”

“And then what?”

“Then nothing.”

“I’ll be in your debt, won’t I? That’s what you’ll want me to think. Once I take your money, you’ll feel that you own me.”

“Own you?” Sachs said, suddenly giving in to his exasperation. “Own you? I don’t even
like
you. From the way you’ve acted with me tonight, the less I have to do with you the better.”

At that moment, without the least hint of what was coming, Lillian started to smile. It was a spontaneous interruption, a wholly involuntary response to the war of nerves that had been building between them. Even though it lasted no more than a second or two, Sachs was encouraged. Something had been communicated, he felt, some little connection had been established, and even though he couldn’t say what that thing was, he sensed that the mood had shifted.

He didn’t waste any time after that. Seizing on the opportunity that had just presented itself, he told her to stay where she was, left the room, and then walked outside to fetch the money from the car. There was no point in trying to explain himself to her. The moment
had come to offer proof, to eliminate the abstractions and let the money talk for itself. That was the only way to make her believe him: to let her touch it, to let her see it with her own eyes.

But nothing was simple anymore. Now that he had unlocked the trunk of the car and was looking at the bag again, he hesitated to follow his impulse. All along, he had seen himself giving the money to her in one go: walking into her house, handing over the bag, and then walking out. It was supposed to have been a quick, dreamlike gesture, an action that would take no time at all. He would swoop down like an angel of mercy and shower her with wealth, and before she realized that he was there, he would vanish. Now that he had talked to her, however, now that he had stood face to face with her in the kitchen, he saw how absurd that fairy tale was. Her animosity had frightened him and demoralized him, and he had no way to predict what would happen next. If he gave her the money all at once, he would lose whatever advantage he still had over her. Anything would be possible then, any number of grotesque reversals could follow from that error. She might humiliate him by refusing to accept it, for example. Or, even worse, she might take the money and then turn around and call the police. She had already threatened to do that, and given the depth of her anger and suspicion, he wouldn’t have put it past her to betray him.

Instead of carrying the bag into the house, he counted out fifty one-hundred-dollar bills, shoved the money into his two jacket pockets, then zipped up the bag again and slammed the trunk shut. He had no idea what he was doing anymore. It was an act of pure improvisation, a blind leap into the unknown. When he turned toward the house again, he saw Lillian standing in the doorway, a small, illuminated figure with her hands on her hips, watching intently as he went about his business in the quiet street. He crossed
the lawn knowing that her eyes were on him, suddenly exhilarated by his own uncertainty, by the madness of whatever terrible thing was about to happen.

When he reached the top of the steps, she moved aside to let him in and then closed the door behind him. He didn’t wait for an invitation this time. Entering the kitchen before she did, he walked over to the table, pulled out one of the rickety wooden chairs, and sat down. A moment later, Lillian sat down opposite him. There were no more smiles, no more flashes of curiosity in her eyes. She had turned her face into a mask, and as he looked across at her, searching for a signal, for some clue that would help him to begin, he felt as though he were studying a wall. There was no way to get through to her, no way to penetrate what she was thinking. Neither one of them spoke. Each was waiting for the other to start, and the longer her silence went on, the more obstinately she seemed to resist him. At a certain point, understanding that he was about to choke, that a scream was beginning to gather in his lungs, Sachs lifted his right arm and calmly swept everything in front of him onto the floor. Dirty dishes, coffee cups, ashtrays, and silverware landed with a ferocious clatter, breaking and skidding across the green linoleum. He looked straight into her eyes, but she refused to respond, continuing to sit there as though nothing had happened. It was a sublime moment, he felt, a moment for the ages, and as they went on looking at each other, he almost began to tremble with happiness, with a wild happiness that came surging up from his fear. Then, not missing a beat, he pulled the two bundles of cash from his pockets, slapped them onto the table, and pushed them toward her.

“This is for you,” he said. “It’s yours if you want it.”

She glanced down at the money for a split second but made no move to touch it. “Hundred-dollar bills,” she said. “Or are those just the ones on top?”

“It’s hundreds all the way through. Five thousand dollars’ worth.”

“Five thousand dollars isn’t nothing. Even rich people wouldn’t sneeze at five thousand dollars. But it’s not exactly the kind of money that changes anyone’s life.”

“This is only the beginning. What you might call a down payment.”

“I see. And what kind of balance are you talking about?”

“A thousand dollars a day. A thousand dollars a day for as long as it lasts.”

“And how long is that?”

“A long time. Long enough for you to pay off your debts and quit your job. Long enough to move away from here. Long enough to buy yourself a new car and a new wardrobe. And once you’ve done all that, you’ll still have more than you know what to do with.”

“And what are you supposed to be, my fairy godmother?”

“Just a man paying off a debt, that’s all.”

“And what if I told you I didn’t like the arrangement? What if I said I’d rather have the money all at once?”

“That was the original plan, but things changed after I got here. We’re on to Plan B now.”

“I thought you were trying to be nice to me.”

“I am. But I want you to be nice to me, too. If we do it this way, there’s a better chance of keeping things in balance.”

“You’re saying you don’t trust me, is that it?”

“Your attitude makes me a little nervous. I’m sure you can understand that.”

“And what happens while you’re giving me these daily installments? Do you show up every morning at an appointed hour, hand over the money, and then split, or are you thinking about staying for breakfast, too?”

“I told you before: I don’t want anything from you. You get the money free and clear, and you don’t owe me a thing.”

“Yeah, well, just so we’ve got it straight, wiseguy. I don’t know what Maria told you about me, but my pussy’s not for sale. Not for any amount of money. Do you understand that? Nobody forces me into bed. I fuck who I want to fuck, and fairy godmother keeps her wand to herself. Am I making myself clear?”

“You’re telling me I’m not in your plans. And I’ve just finished telling you you’re not in mine. I don’t see how it could be any clearer than that.”

“Good. Now give me some time to think about all this. I’m dead tired, and I’ve got to go to sleep.”

“You don’t have to think. You know the answer already.”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. But I’m not going to talk about it anymore tonight. It’s been a rough day, and I’m about to fall over. But just to show you how nice I can be, I’m going to let you sleep on the couch in the living room. For Maria’s sake—just this once. It’s the middle of the night, and you’ll never find a motel if you start looking now.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t have to do anything, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do it. If you want to stay, then stay. If you don’t, then don’t. But you’d better decide now, because I’m going up to bed.”