" "Where he took a hot shower and went to bed," Foley said.

"Why don't they know we took her with us? Maybe they do, but for some reason they're not saying."

"There's nothing about me," Buddy said.

"No mention of aiding in the escape. How come? I mean if she got away the cops'd know about me, right?"

"She got away from us, yeah."

But what happened after she drove off with Glenn?

He had thought about her last night, trying to fall asleep on the hard sofa, and had thought about her all day. Now he was thinking about her again, looking out at the ocean.

Buddy said, "It's pretty here, isn't it? If you like looking at views.

I don't think you should go out anymore. I mean for a couple of weeks, anyway. You got the need to do a bank out of your system. Fell off your horse and got right back on. I was thinking we could hire a boat to take us to the Bahamas for a while. Get one right at the Haulover docks, a fishing boat. Pay the skipper the going rate. How's that sound to you?"

"I'd like to know where Glenn is," Foley said, "and what happened to Karen."

"I imagine somewhere along the line he threw her out of the car and kept going. It's what I would've done."

"You don't think she took him in?"

"How would she do that?"

"It's her business. Has Glenn ever been here?"

"I never told him where I live or gave him my phone number."

"How about Adele?"

"She has my number, yeah, but never called me on her phone."

"If they have Glenn, once he starts talking he'll never stop.

He'll give Adele up in a minute."

Buddy said, "As soon as they check you out they'll see you were married and divorced. They get Adele's name, either one, her date of birth, they've got her. That's a given. I even told her, if Foley makes it they'll be around to see you. She said, "What do I know?" You can put your money on Adele."

"I was thinking," Foley said, "you could give Glenn a call. If he did get away and feels safe…"

"And if he didn't get away and they hung a wire on his line"

"We could call the West Palm marshal's office."

"For what?"

"See if Karen's there."

"She is, what's that tell us?"

"She's okay, he didn't-you know-do anything to her."

"What if they have that kind of hookup-it gives 'em the number of anybody that calls?"

"Use a pay phone."

"You're still thinking about her."

"I want to know what happened."

Buddy folded the paper and got up. He said, "I'll see what I can do," and left the apartment.

When they came in last night an old woman asked if they were delivering her oxygen. Foley thought he was in a nursing home-all the old ladies and a few skinny old guys sitting around the lobby. In the elevator Buddy said, "They'll stop me and want to know if I'm the laundry man, or am I from the dry cleaners or the grocery store. They're outside on the patio, they're in the lobby, they're like birds sitting on a telephone line watching everything that's going on. Can you imagine bringing that girl marshal through there and up seven floors and not cause some attention? You're no problem. They under stand somebody wearing a raincoat. They put on their raincoats any time they see a cloud. Over their beaded sweaters. I've never seen so many beaded sweaters in one place in my life."

Foley said to him last night, "But you still would've let me bring her if I had my way. I'm sorry I acted like an asshole. I think I'm over it."

"I might've acted the same way," Buddy said.

"She was the first real girl you'd seen in five months and, man, she smelled good, didn't she?"

Last night and all day today Foley kept seeing her in different ways: in the headlights before putting her in the trunk, her face up close, when she came out of the trunk showing her legs and when she stood there in the road, her body in profile, her nice tight rear end in that short skirt; and seeing her close from behind as they climbed the grade. Those pictures of her kept popping into his head and he would take his time looking at them. He never thought of her in a sexual way, like picturing her naked or wondering what her bush looked like.

He would remember the feel of her, though, his hand on her arm, on her thigh with her skirt pushed up. He could hear her voice, too, saying,

"Why, are you famous?" Saying, "Are you kidding?" And coming out of the trunk, "You win, Jack." That was his favorite.

"You win, Jack." He played that one over and over. She said, "Buddy.

Is that his given name?" Because he'd slipped and said Buddy was driving. Talking too much. Then had tried to cover by saying it was the name he'd given him. What else did he tell her he shouldn't have?

Karen listening to every word. Alert the whole time. Smarter than he was. Smarter than Glenn, the college boy.

Foley was sure she had talked Glenn into taking off. Glenn too long there alone, waiting, scared to death. But she couldn't still be with Glenn. Could she?

If she took him in it would be in the paper. If she didn't take him in-what happened?

Buddy wasn't gone long. He came out to the balcony where Foley was taking the sun and sat down in one of the plastic deck chairs.

"I called Glenn. The little fella's answering machine came on saying he was out and leave a message, but I didn't speak to it."

"I wouldn't either," Foley said.

"Hear yourself talking and nobody's there. How about the marshal's office?"

"I asked was Karen there; they said she's on leave, won't be back till next week."

"Last seen flying down the turnpike," Foley said, "and the next day goes on her vacation. How come I knew she wouldn't be there?"

"I guess 'cause you think too much," Buddy said.

"You realize what you're doing? Worrying about a person that works in law enforcement. You want to sit down and have cocktails with a girl that tried to shoot you. You hear what I'm saying?"

Foley said, "I should never've got you into this."

"I had my eyes open," Buddy said.

"Listen, you want to go to the Bahamas or not? It's up to you."

It made sense. Foley nodded, saying, "It would be a change.

We have enough cash… Thirty-seven eighty, that's not bad.

I used the one, the guy talking to the bank manager's my partner.

Guy's an accomplice and doesn't even know it."

"I heard about one," Buddy said, "the guy tells a joke to get the teller relaxed. Then hands her a note that says, This is no joke. Give me all your big bills."

" "That's pretty good." Foley nodded again and seemed to be thinking about it. Finally he said, "You know, after a while it gets to be the same old thing. You try to come up with ways to make it interesting."

"Like any job, sure, it gets boring," Buddy said.

"But there other trades, like burglary, home invasion…"

Foley shook his head.

"I couldn't be a burglar, it's too sneaky. And it's hard work. You pick up TV sets, you need a truck. You swipe jewelry you have to know if it's worth anything."

"Home invasion they're home," Buddy said.

"You bust in, it's like a holdup. Or we could do supermarkets, liquor stores."

"Then you might as well stick to banks," Foley said, "a holdup's a holdup." He got up from his chair to look out at the ocean again.

"I'd sure like to know what happened."

"Well, Glenn'd be the one to talk to," Buddy said.

"If they caught him it'd be in the paper, so he must be hiding out. Or, he might've gone up to Detroit again." Now Buddy was nodding.

"When I first spoke to him he'd been up there checking things out. You remember the Wall Street crook, Dick the Ripper? That's where he lives."

"Ripley," Foley said, "sure, I remember him, with the five mil walking-around money. Glenn's still talking about that?"

"He wanted to visit you at Glades, see if you're interested."