High Noon

know.” He looked out over the city. “I can hear music. Must be from the parade.”
    “There’s something to live for. What kind of music do you like?”
    Inside the apartment, Duncan turned to Dave. “Music? What kind of music does he like? What the hell is she doing?”
    “Keeping him talking. She’s talking him down. He’s telling her.” Dave nodded toward the speaker. “As long as he’s talking about Cold-play he’s not going off the roof.”
    Duncan listened as they talked music for the next ten minutes, a conversation he might’ve heard in any bar or restaurant in the city. When he pictured Joe on the roof, it seemed surreal. When he pictured the redhead with her cat eyes and tight little body holding what smacked of small talk with a mostly naked, armed, suicidal bartender, it seemed impossible.
     
    “Do you think I should call Lori?” Joe asked wistfully.
    “Is that what you want to do?” She already knew they’d tried to reach Joe’s estranged wife, without success.
    “I want to tell her I’m sorry.”
    “That’s good, telling her you’re sorry. But you know what works better with women—and I know as I am one. Showing her. We believe it when you show us. You can show me right now if you give me the gun.”
    “I figured on shooting myself before I jumped. Or maybe on the way down.”
    “Look at me, Joe.” When he turned his head, she kept her eyes straight on his. “Is that how you’re going to show her you’re sorry? By making it so she has to bury you, so she has to grieve? Are you punishing her?”
    “No!” His face, his voice, registered shock at the idea. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.”
    “All your fault? I never believe anything is all one person’s fault. But let’s fix it. Let’s find the way you can make it up to her.”
    “Phoebe, I owe almost five thousand gambling.”
    “Five thousand’s hard. It sounds like it scares you to owe that much. I understand what it is to have money problems hanging over your head. Do you want Lori to have to pay your debt?”
    “No. If I’m dead, nobody pays.”
    “Nobody? But she’s your wife. She’s your legal wife.” Phoebe doubted there was any legal liability, but she could see the idea of it strike Joe. “She could be responsible for your debts.”
    “God. Oh God.”
    “I think I know how to help you with this, Joe. Joe? You know your boss is inside. He’s inside there because he’s worried about you.”
    “He’s okay. Dunc’s a good guy. I screwed him. Stole from him. I don’t blame him for firing me.”
    “I hear you say that, and know you understand you’re responsible for your mistakes. You’re a responsible person, and you want to fix those mistakes. Dunc’s a good guy, you tell me, then I’m going to believe he understands that, too. I’ll talk to him for you if you want. I’m good at talking. If he’ll give you an extension on paying back the money, that would help, wouldn’t it?”
    “I…I don’t know.”
    “I’ll talk to him for you.”
    “He’s a nice guy. I stole from him.”
    “You were feeling desperate and scared, and you made a mistake. I sense you’re sorry for that.”
    “I am sorry.”
    “I’ll talk to him for you,” she repeated. “You need to give me the gun, and come back off the ledge. You don’t want to hurt Lori.”
    “I don’t, but—”
    “If you could talk to Lori right now, what would you say?”
    “I…I guess that I don’t know how it got this far, and I’m sorry. I love her. I don’t want to lose her.”
    “If you don’t want to lose her, if you love her, you have to give me the gun and come back off the ledge. Otherwise, Joe, all you’re leaving her with is grief and blame.”
    “It’s not her fault.”
    Phoebe eased off the ledge, held out a hand. “You’re right, Joe. You’re absolutely right. Now, show her.”
    He stared at the gun, stared as Phoebe slowly reached out to take it. It was slippery with his sweat as she flipped on the safety, secured it in her belt. “Come on off the ledge, Joe.”
    “What’s going to happen?”
    “Come on off the ledge and I’ll explain it. I won’t lie to you.” Once again, she offered her hand. Shouldn’t, she knew. Negotiators could be pulled off by a jumper. But she kept her eyes on his, then clasped her fingers tight on his hand.
    When his feet touched the roof, he simply slid down to the floor to sob again. She went with him, draped her arm around him, and shook her head