R Is for Ricochet

whole of it – of myself – or what was the point?
    I moved on to events of the morning and when I'd finished, Cheney blew. "You gotta be out of your head! Aside from the issue of unlawful entry, if Beck gets wind of it, he'll know something's off and that's the end of it for us."
    "How's he going to find out?"
    "Suppose Marty spills the beans or the security guy has second thoughts about letting you in. He knows both of you by name. All it'd take is one offhand remark from either of those guys. Doesn't matter how solid the government's case is, defense attorney puts you on the stand and he'll take you apart. Not that he'll have the chance. Long before it comes to that, the feds will slap you with charges of obstruction of justice, tampering with evidence, and god knows what else. Perjury for sure the minute you try to cover your ass. Reba's got no credibility. Convicted felon, woman scorned. Anything she says is automatically suspect."
    "Then why'd you bring her into it? If she's so useless, why recruit her in the first place?"
    "Because we needed a confidential informant, not a friggin' one-man posse. You're a pro. You know better – or I assumed you did. The feds play for keeps. Compromise an operation like this and you're the one who pays. What's it to her? She's got nothing to lose."
    "Cheney, I hear you. I know I should have stopped her, but I couldn't see a way to do it. Once she told Marty what was going down, events just started to escalate -"
    "Bullshit. You were a willing participant. What you did was illegal -"
    "Got it. I know. I'm aware of it," I said. "On the other hand, how could I walk away? She's in this because of us – because of me to be specific. I feel
some
responsibility for what's happening to her."
    "Well, you better start taking responsibility for your own behavior. If this sting goes down the shitter, you'll be in more trouble than you can shake a stick at."
    "Wait a minute. Wait. I don't mean to sound defensive, but I got backed into this. When the deal first came up, I told you I didn't want to do it, but you talked me into it, smutty photographs and all. Fade out, fade in. I'm sitting there at Dale's and she opens her mouth and blows the deal wide open. What was I supposed to do? If I'd gotten up and left, there was no way of guessing what the hell she'd do next. Believe it or not, I was trying for damage control. I'll admit the situation snowballed -"
    "Just do me a favor and stay the hell away from her, okay? She calls you, hang up and leave the rest of it to us. I'll get Vince on the horn and bring him up to speed. We'll see what he can salvage, if anything."
    "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to screw things up."
    "Well, you can't do anything about it now. What's done is done. Just keep your distance from Reba. Promise."
    I held a hand up like I was taking an oath.
    "I'll call you later," he said brusquely. He got up and headed around the corner to his car. I heard him fire up his engine and peel away from the curb with a chirp of rubber on pavement. I could feel my face burning for an hour afterward.

    I locked myself in my apartment and tidied my underwear drawer. I needed to do something small and useful. I had to get a handle on life in a risk-free arena where I could feel competent again. Maybe folding underpants didn't amount to much, but it was the best I could do. I moved on to the chest of drawers and refolded my shirts. Then I tackled the junk drawer downstairs. I hated the idea of being prosecuted. Obstruction of justice was serious damn shit. I pictured myself in jail garb, legs shackled, hands manacled in front, doing the traditional inmate two-step while shuffling to and from court. That began to seem a bit melodramatic and I decided there was no point in going overboard on the self-flagellation. So I'd goofed. Big deal. I hadn't
killed
anyone.
    After an hour, I became aware of voices outside my door, one being Henry's. I glanced out the kitchen window, but the angle was too extreme for me to see who else was there. I went to the front door, popped the locks, and opened it a crack. Henry, Lewis, and William were standing together in the driveway. Lewis and William were both in three-piece suits while Henry wore his usual shorts, T-shirt, and flip-flops. He'd backed the station wagon out of the garage and Lewis was loading his bags in the rear. As I looked on, I heard a soft ping, and William removed his pocket watch from his vest and checked the time. He took out a small