L Is for Lawless

what I say. You're not going to obey me, then I can't be responsible."
    "I'm
doing
what you said. In what way am I not doing what you said?"
    "I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about the money. I'm talking about Rio. Now see? Right there. You didn't fly to Rio like you were supposed to, and look what went wrong as a consequence of your behavior. Farley… well, never mind. I think we said enough about him."
    Helen spoke up. Like me, she'd been standing there doggedly with her hands in the air. "Young man. I wonder if I could take this coat off and set down."
    Gilbert frowned, irritated at the interruption. It was clear he enjoyed getting all worked up, feeling righteous, expounding on the many ways someone else was at fault. Helen wasn't looking at him. Her gaze was fixed at a point to his right, where she was obviously mistaking the doorjamb for him. Gilbert was momentarily distracted, amused by her mistake. He waved his arms. "Hey, over here, sweetheart. You must not see all that good. You've mistook me for a coat rack."
    "I see well enough. It's my feet give out," she said. "I'm eighty-five years old."
    "Is that right? Arms getting tired, is that it?"
    Helen said nothing. Her rheumy gaze was wandering. I kept scanning the room, looking for a weapon, trying to form a plan. I didn't want to put the others in any more jeopardy. His intentions seemed clear enough. One by one, we'd be bound and gagged, at which point he was going to kill us, and what could we do? I was closer to him than Laura was, but if I tried to jump him, he might go berserk and start shooting. I had to do something soon, but I didn't want to be foolhardy… acting like a heroine when it might put us in a worse situation than we were already in.
    "I'm going to set. You can shoot me if you don't like it," Helen said.
    Gilbert gestured with the gun. "Take a seat right where you are. You can put your hands down for now, but don't touch anything on the table."
    She said, "Thank you." She braced her hands on the table and sank heavily in her chair. She shrugged out of her coat. I could see her flex her fingers gingerly, coaxing the circulation before she tucked them in her lap.
    Gilbert angled himself so he could monitor Laura's progress as she bound her father's hands with tape. Ray's arms were behind him. In order to have his wrists meet behind the wooden chair back, he had to lean forward slightly and force his shoulders into a roll.
    Gilbert seemed to enjoy Ray's discomfort. "Where's the harness?" he asked Laura.
    "In the other room."
    "When you get done with that, bring it out here and let's see what we got."
    "I thought you said tape her."
    "Get the harness,
then
tape her, you fuckin' idjit," he said.
    "There's only eight thousand dollars. You said a million," she said irritably. She set the roll of duct tape aside and moved into the other room. Personally, I wouldn't have dared to take that tone with him. Gilbert didn't seem surprised about the money, so I had to assume Farley'd told him about the eight grand along with everything else.
    Laura returned with the harness in hand. He took it from her, hefting it up onto the counter behind him. He glanced down at the contents, taking in the packets of bills. His gaze shifted to Ray. "Where's the rest of the money? Where's all the jewelry and the coin collections?"
    "I don't know. I really can't swear there's anything left," Ray said.
    Gilbert closed his eyes, his patience wearing thin. "Ray, I was there, remember? I helped you guys, hauling out all that cash and jewelry. What about the diamonds and the coins? There was a fortune in there, must have been two million, at least, and Johnny sure as shit didn't have it on him when he was caught."
    "Hey, not to argue, but you were seventeen years old. None of us had ever seen a million bucks, let alone two. We don't really have any idea how much it was because we never had a chance to count it, and that's the truth," Ray said.
    "There was a hell of a lot more than this. Seven or eight big bags. That loot didn't just disappear into thin air. The son of a bitch must have hid it. So where'd he put it?"
    "Your guess is as good as mine. That's why I'm here. See if I can figure it out."
    "He didn't tell you?"
    "I swear to God he didn't. He knew he could trust himself, but I guess he wasn't all that sure about me."
    I spoke up then, looking at Ray. "How do you know he didn't spend it?"
    "It's always possible," he said. "I know he sent money to my ma. That