Shella by Andrew Vachss Read Free Book Online

in my jacket pocket, took out my wallet. There was maybe three hundred bucks in there. He took it. The guy with the gun made a motion like I should turn around. I did that.
    I heard them move away. One of them said something. Marry-con, it sounded like.

    Just before midnight, three cars pulled in together. The man I was watching for got out of the back seat from themiddle car. He looked just like the picture Monroe showed me. The man held out his hand, and a woman took it, came out after him. They went into the club. Men got out of the other cars, stood by the door.
    When other cars pulled up, those men watched.
    Just before three o’clock, the same three cars pulled up in front. The man came out, the woman just in front of him. All three cars pulled away in a line.

    I got my car out of the garage at the hotel the next afternoon, drove over to the neighborhood. I just drove around for a while until I found a parking space a couple of blocks away from the club. I read the signs. The car wouldn’t get a ticket even if it was there for a couple of days. I left it there, took the train back.

    I was awake when Misty came back. I smoked a cigarette while she took her shower. She came out, wearing a pink silk thing that sort of wrapped around her.
    “Do you like this?” she asked me.
    “It’s pretty.”
    She did a spin so I could see the whole thing. Sat down on the bed. Stretched like she was real tired from work.
    I laid down on the bed next to her, looking at the ceiling.
    “Can you get credit cards?” I asked her.
    “Sure, honey. Someone’s always looking to sell them at the club. What kind?”
    “American Express, Mastercard, Visa … any big card.”
    “Fresh ones go for a yard. And they’re only good for a couple-three days. You know …?”
    “Yeah.” You can always get credit cards. They rough them off in purse-snatchings, slip them out of pocketbooks in the ladies’ rooms … then they sell them. Most people use them to buy things. Then they sell the things. To the same kind of people they stole the cards from.
    “You have a driver’s license?”
    “No, baby. I mean, I got ID, but …”
    “It’s okay.”
    She rolled against me, put her head on my chest, reached down, started playing with me.
    “What do you need, honey? Tell Misty, I’ll get it for you.”
    “We need a car. For when we go to this club. A fancy, nice car. We’re going to rent a car, leave it there, understand? Go home in our own car.”
    “Why don’t we just take a limo?”
    “A limo?”
    “Sure! We can rent one. Just for the night, okay? It doesn’t cost that much. Like a taxi, only fancy. Some of the guys, the ones who come to the club, they use them. When they’re ready to leave, they just make a call, the car’s waiting for them out front.”
    “They’re like cabs, right? They have a log, write down where they take people?”
    “I … guess so.”
    “No good.”

    I thought about it, turned it over in my mind. I don’t do things fast, except when I get right to them. Shella wasn’t like that, always impatient. She was always playing, not thinking how things would come out.
    We had some money ahead, once, and she wanted to rent this little house, like a cottage, right near the beach. It was okay with me. Neither of us was working then. A vacation, she said it was. Nighttime, I would go out to the beach, look at the dark water. Sometimes she came with me. One night, she didn’t. When I walked back to the house, I saw the car was gone, no lights on. Figured she went into town—Shella got restless sometimes. I opened the front door, felt somebody there. I slid back out the door, closed it softly, didn’t click the latch. I went around the back of the house … couldn’t find where anybody’d got in. I found a good spot, where I could see the car when she came in. Whoever was inside, they’d have to come out sometime.
    The car pulled up a couple of hours later. The door opened and I could see someone inside. Not