“They thought they would sell enough to pay for it, and then have a party with the rest.”
“Ten thousand dollars?”
“Denny and I had a tremendous fight about it before I left. They weren’t making any real effort to sell it, and I was afraid it would just go right up their noses.”
“Ten thousand dollars!”
“You know how much they were getting paid for that Providencegig? The whole band, five hundred per night, not including expenses. And the one before that, up in Irvington, that one-night deal, was only seven-fifty. Split four ways, with something for Ray to help set them up? Shit.”
“Who did they owe the money to?”
“I was afraid to ask. They got the cocaine through Ray.”
“Ray Reschley?”
“None other.”
“Jesus!”
“Ray could have gotten it anywhere.” Susan spoke bitterly.
“I think he just talks big, don’t you? He’s really just our boy from Minnesota. You know that.”
“No, Alice, I don’t know that any more. All I know is that two weeks ago there was ten thousand dollars’ worth of cocaine in my apartment, and yesterday Denny and his best friend were found murdered in the same apartment. Murdered!”
“Ray couldn’t have anything to do with that.”
“Not intentionally, maybe. But maybe those contacts he had have a way of getting out of hand.”
“Oh, Susan!”
“Oh, Alice!”
They turned and walked up the pavement, avoiding, by instinct, the various viaducts and secret places of Riverside Park. “Another thing,” said Susan. “If the stuff was there, maybe the police found it, and they are going to think it was mine. I’m an official resident of the apartment, not Craig. Damn him! He always wanted to be the big guy! After Ray took him to all those parties for those tours that were coming in last Christmas, and he saw for himself all the weed and cocaine floating around, he just had to do the same thing, had to have a party like that, had to treat his band the way those people treat their bands. Do you know how many rock stars he referred to by their first names after that? As soon as they brought that stuff into the apartment, I knew the shit was about to hit the fan, and here it is.”
“Was there anything else they might have found?”
“No. Denny was kind of off dope, and didn’t want it around, so that was the only thing. As if that wasn’t enough.”
Alice thought of Detective Honey. A definite man who filled out his dark suit, Detective Honey would not approve of cocaine, not even overlook it. She glanced at Susan, another definite, substantial person. Ignorance was something a man like Honey, with at least some powers of perception, would never believe of Susan. Alice said, “If he asks you, you’ve got to tell him the truth.”
“Who?”
“Detective Honey. If he asks about the cocaine, then you’ll know they’ve found it, and you’ll have to tell them exactly what you’ve told me.”
“But I disapproved of it! I didn’t want it in the house, or anywhere near me!”
“You’ve just got to tell them that.”
“They aren’t going to believe me.”
“They aren’t going to believe that you don’t know anything about it.”
“I’ve been gone for two weeks.”
“Well, that’s true. Yes, that is true, but you don’t know what the police know, do you? They might be in touch with people who could tell them that it came into your place three weeks ago.”
“A month.”
“It’s impossible for people like us to know what the police know. I’m just afraid you’ll trap yourself for no good reason.”
“Oh, hell!”
As they turned at Eighty-fourth Street to leave the park, Susan looked at Alice and declared, “I always knew Craig Shellady would get me into real trouble. Something I couldn’t get out of by dipping into the savings account or putting my foot down. I’ve known that for twelve years. Now I don’t forgive him. I blame him for all of this. That’s what enrages me!”
“He’s paid for it.”
“No,
Learning to Kill: Stories