Fletch(3)
“Yes.”
“Were you in the service?”
“Yes. Marines.”
“Either the head or the heart. Just make it quick and painless, and, for Christ’s sake, make sure you’re thorough. Do you have a passport?”
“No,” Fletch lied.
“Of course not. Get one. That should be the first order of business, as that will take time. It’s not tourist season, so it shouldn’t take more than three or four days. But get started tomorrow.
“After you murder me, you will drive the Jaguar, which will be parked out front, to the airport. Leave the car in the Trans World Airlines parking lot. You will be taking the eleven o’clock flight to Buenos Aires. I will make the reservation, and pay for it, in your name, tomorrow. I figure twenty thousand dollars should buy you some fun in Buenos Aires. For a year or two.”
“Fifty thousand dollars would buy me even more fun.”
“You want fifty thousand dollars? Murder doesn’t cost that much.”
“You forget you’re to be the victim. You want it done humanely.”
The man’s eyes narrowed contemptuously.
“You’re right. Of course. I guess fifty thousand dollars can be arranged without causing suspicion.”
The man returned to stare through the french windows. Clearly he did not like looking at Fletch.
“I’m doing everything I can to guarantee that you don’t get caught. All you have to remember are gloves and a passport. The gun will be provided, and a seat on the plane will be reserved and prepaid.”
The man asked, “Will you murder me?”
Fletch said, “Sure.”
2
“Clara?”
“Where are you, Fletcher?”
“I’m in a phone booth.”
“Are you all right?”
“Sure.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“I love you, too, bitch.”
“Endearments will get you nowhere.”
“There’s nowhere I want to get with you. Listen: I’m driving up tonight.”
“To the office?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I think I’m onto something interesting.”
“Does it have to do with the drugs-on-the-beach story?”
“As a matter of fact, no.”
“Then I don’t want to hear about it.”
“I’m not going to tell you about it anyway.”
“Frank was asking for the drug-beach story again this afternoon.”
“Fuck Frank.”
“He wants it, Fletcher. That’s scheduled as a major magazine story, and you were supposed to be in with it three issues ago.”
“I’m doing fine with it.”
“He wants it now, Fletcher. With pictures. Frank was pretty boiled this afternoon, and you know how much I love you.”
“You’d stick up for me, wouldn’t you, Clara?”
“In a pig’s ass.”
“You can’t take me off the story now, and Frank knows it. I’ve got too much time in on it. Besides, no one else in the office has my tan.”
“What we can do is fire you for failure to complete an assignment.”
“Why don’t you stop talking, Clara? I said I’m driving up tonight.”
“There are some people who are just too goddamned obnoxious to have around.”
“Meaning me?”
“Which reminds me, Fletcher. Another sleazy lawyer was around the office again this afternoon looking for you. Something about nonpayment of alimony.”
“Which wife this time?”
“How the hell do I know? Don’t you pay either of them?”
“They both wanted to be free of me., They’re both free.”
“But the court says you’re not free of them.”
“When I want legal advice, Clara, I’ll ask.”
“Keep those bums out of the office. Your alimony problems are not our problems.”
“Right, Clara.”
“And don’t come back here until you have that goddamned story done.”
“I can miss a day with the little darlings. I sort of told the kids I was splitting anyway. For a while. I can get back here by tomorrow night. And have another wonderful weekend on the beach.”
“I said no, Fletcher. If you’ve accomplished anything at all down there, you must have caused some curiosity. Going for your car now and driving up to the office would just expose everything. You shouldn’t even be in a phone booth talking to me.”
“I want to come up to make some phone calls and do some digging.”
“On this story? The beach one?”
“No. The other one.”
“We don’t give a damn about any other story until you finish this one.”
“Clara? I’m cold. I’m still in swimming trunks.”