Out of Sight

Foley saw the maid let go of Kenneth's wrist and slap him across the face. Kenneth half turned from her, came back with his fist cocked and threw a left at her, a hook that jarred against the side of her face.

She landed on the sofa, head bouncing against the cushion. Right away, as Foley watched, Alexander edged over to brush her hair from her cheek and take her hand, the woman looking up at Kenneth, stunned.

"I've seen 'em dyed blond on sisters," Maurice said from the other part of the room, "but I don't believe I ever seen a natural red one."

"This boy," Kenneth said, "been squirrelin' the maid, getting himself some house-sitting pussy."

Maurice said to Alexander, "How is she, boy, pretty good?"

Kenneth said, "I think she like to tussle with a man for a change. Get boned a way she gonna remember."

"Not till you done looking," Maurice said.

"Will somebody please find the fucking safe?"

Out in the hall again Buddy said to Foley, "They're gonna gang-bang her. What're we supposed to do, watch?"

Moselle was on the sofa, cigarette in one hand, holding her robe closed with the other. Her gaze moved from the detective waiting in the foyer with his phone to Karen Sisco standing over her. More white people in the house these days than when white people lived in the house.

"I tell him it's none of my business. See, but he likes to brag on what he's doing. He knows I ain't gonna tell on him. But now this time he wants me to tell something. And if I do, I know it will mess me up good. See, there's two white men with him…"

"Tonight?" Karen said.

Moselle nodded and drew on her cigarette, wanting to tell it right, but not tell too much.

"Right now, this minute. They left with Maurice." Moselle paused, her gaze going to the foyer, then raising to Karen Sisco again.

"But they not coming back with him." She watched Karen ease down to sit on the edge of the sofa, close to her.

"He's leaving them there."

She understood.

"You could say that."

"You know their names?"

Moselle shook her head.

"Never was introduced."

This Karen said, "Are you playing with me?" Sounding irritated, not the nice person anymore.

"What's your game?

What're you telling me?" Getting a fierce look in her eyes.

Moselle leaned away from her.

"I don't know the man's name till Maurice tells me. See, then I'm suppose to tell the police who this person is and where to find him, out at this rich man's house. Okay, if I do, it's gonna mess up my life good and I'll prob'ly go to jail. But if I don't, then I'm gonna be gone from this world, honey. That's what I'm telling you."

Karen seemed to ease back saying, "But why give up this particular guy?"

"

"Cause Maurice wants the reward you get for turning him in. Hoping, you understand, they pay off if the man's dead."

Moselle stubbed out her cigarette in an ashtray she held on the arm of the sofa, feeling Karen Sisco staring at her.

"See, the man's an escaped convict from Florida."

Feeling her staring and then feeling her get up and when Moselle looked, Karen in her long coat was across the room already, leaving.

They had their masks off and had torn up Ripley's bedroom: drawers pulled out and dumped, pictures off the walls, bed covers stripped, the mattress slashed.

Foley and Buddy, back from checking rooms, stood in the hall looking in. Foley said, "Would you hide walking-around money in a mattress?"

"I leave mine on the dresser," Buddy said.

"This is a bunch of shit. These assholes are gonna end up with TV sets."

"You want to leave?"

"I'm ready anytime," Buddy said, "but what about the maid, and the kid?"

"I don't know," Foley said, looking at them now, on the sofa in the sitting room area. He did know, but didn't want to say.

They seemed rigid, holding each other's hands, afraid to move.

Kenneth, near them, was taking bottles of wine and booze from a cabinet and lining them up on the wet bar.

Buddy said, "I can see you don't have your heart in this."

"I never did."

"Before we go," Buddy said, "I think we're gonna have to settle with these assholes."

Foley nodded.

"Yeah, I guess." He turned to Buddy then.

"Listen, why don't you leave and I'll clean up."

"What're you talking about?" Buddy frowning.

Foley didn't answer because there was no way to explain what he felt, that these were the final scenes of his life playing out, that pretty soon it would be over and he was resigned to it happening. Here, not against the fence in some penitentiary. It was like if Clyde Barrow, driving along that county road in '34, knew he was going to run into all those Texas Rangers and there was nothing he could do about it. How did you explain that kind of feeling to anybody? Even to Buddy. Buddy was confused enough already and it made him appear restless. Foley said, "Take the truck and get out of here."

Buddy, still frowning, said, "I don't know what you're thinking, but we're going together, once I get the keys off a Kenneth."

They heard Maurice then, in there trying on clothes, say to Kenneth,

"Put some music on," and saw Kenneth at the wet bar going through a rack of CDs.