"We're in trouble," she said. "Big trouble."
"Why's that?" I wondered where the wire was. On her leg? Her arm?
She reached into the pocket of her jacket and took out three photographs and put them facedown on the table. I didn't move, getting the sense that I didn't want to see them.
"Go ahead and look," she said.
I waited several more seconds, then picked up the photos and stared at the first one. It was difficult to make out, but maybe that was because I was so shocked and wasn't focusing well. It was actually a very clear picture, considering it was taken at night, showing me leaving Charlotte's apartment building, carrying Ricky's body. It took a while to get a hold of myself, and then I looked at the next photo a head-on shot of the body and me. The third picture was of me leaning the body against the garbage can. Although the pictures were taken from a distance, maybe from across the street, the general features of my face were unmistakable.
I stared at the third picture for a while longer, trying to think of something to say that made sense. The best I could come up with was,
"What are these?"
"What do they look like, you idiot?" Charlotte said.
The guys at the other booth were getting up, putting on their jackets.
In a softer voice, almost whispering, I said unsteadily, "I mean, where did they come from? How did you… Who took them?"
"Kenny," she said. "And he said he's gonna show them to the cops if we don't pay him off."
"What?"
"He's gonna show them to the cops if we don't give him the money. You deaf or something?"
"Money?" I said, because that was all I'd really heard. "How much money?"
"Twenty thousand bucks."
I looked at the last picture again, remembering how I'd been so determined to get away that I hadn't really looked around carefully.
Kenny must have been hiding behind a car or a lamppost, or maybe he'd taken the pictures from inside a car.
"What'd you do," I said, "set this all up when you went out for your fix?"
"Fuck you," she said.
"What'd you think, I'd fall for this bullshit?"
"I had nothing to do with any of this."
"And why should I believe a word you say?"
"Because it's true," Charlotte said. "I don't know why Kenny was out there. He must've figured it out on his own."
"He figured out that I'd just happen to be dumping " I cut myself off and looked around. The guys at the other table were gone, and the nearest people were at the bar, about thirty feet away. "Wild Horses" was much louder than our voices, but I continued whispering anyway. "He figured out that I'd just happen to be out there at four in the morning? Give me a fucking break."
"Look, I'm telling you the truth I swear on my grandmother's grave."
Charlotte crossed herself. "I don't know how he figured it out, all right? Maybe he saw you and Ricky in the shower."
"And why did he decide to get his camera?"
"Kenny's crazy," she said. "He's always looking to make a buck."
"And you're not?"
She gave me a piercing, narrow-eyed stare, then said, "At least I don't go around killing people."
She was speaking at a normal level, and "Wild Horses" had ended and someone could have easily heard her. I looked around, trying to be nonchalant, but no one seemed to be eavesdropping. Some grunge song came on maybe Pearl Jam. An old drunk guy was stumbling toward the bathroom, almost tripping a couple of times, but he didn't look over.
"You'd better keep your fucking voice down," I said.
"We have to give him the money," Charlotte whispered harshly, "or we're both fucked."
I still knew Charlotte and Kenny were working together, but I decided it didn't matter. The pictures existed and I was being blackmailed it didn't really matter who was blackmailing me.
"Why do you care if he goes to the cops?" I said. "You're not in the pictures."
"That's what I told Kenny," Charlotte said. "But he said if he goes to the cops he's gonna tell them that he saw Ricky's body in my apartment.
I don't know, maybe he's just using me to get to you. How the hell do I know what he's thinking?"
I picked up the pictures again, looked at each of them for a good five seconds, then ripped them up disgustedly.
"You're wasting your time," Charlotte said. "Kenny said he's got negatives."
Looking at her face was making me sick. I leaned over the table and rested my head in my hands, kneading my scalp with my fingers. Then I looked up and said, "What happened with the cops?"
"Nothing," Charlotte said.
"What does nothing mean?" I said. "Did they talk to you or not?"
"Yeah, they talked to me," she said. "Two cops came to my door and told me Ricky was dead. I pretended I was shocked; then I went down and ID'd him. They asked me if I knew how it happened, some other bullshit, and that was it."
"Did the cops follow you here?"
"No."
"You sure?"
"I just told you, no."
I glanced toward the bar, where mostly drunk-looking guys sitting alone were nursing drinks. No one was looking at us, but that didn't mean one of them couldn't be a cop.
"So you gonna get the money or not?" Charlotte asked.
"Where am I gonna get twenty thousand dollars?" I said.
"You got a bank account."
"I'm a reporter. You know how much I make?"
"So you must got a few thousand bucks in the bank. That'll keep Kenny quiet till»
"Do you have wax in your ears?" I said. "I'm broke. My credit cards are maxed out, I have nothing in savings. You'd be better off going out on the street and trying to blackmail a homeless guy."
"I'm not blackmailing you," she said.
"Wait, I have an idea," I said with fake enthusiasm.
"Why didn't I think of this right away? What was your bottom price for sex twenty-five bucks? That means you'd only have to fuck eight hundred guys to make twenty grand. Better get started."
Charlotte managed to maintain her serious, slightly frightened expression, but I knew she was in on this. Kenny was probably at her apartment right now, waiting for her.
I looked away again. There were still about a dozen drunks at the front of the bar, but Charlotte and I had the back to ourselves. The grunge song ended and the bar was much quieter again; it was possible to make out people's voices.
"Let's say I come up with the money," I said, nearly whispering. "How do I know you'll stop?"
"I'll stop?"
"You and Kenny.".
"I don't know why you keep»
"Okay," I said, placating her. "How do I know Kenny'll stop? I could give him the twenty grand tonight and tomorrow he'll ask for another twenty."
"He won't."
"Really? And what makes you so sure?"
"Because he said he wants twenty grand that's it."
"Oh, so now I'm supposed to trust a guy who makes his living picking pockets and running blackmailing scams? You think I'm gonna give him twenty grand, shake his hand, walk away, and think it's all over?"
"You got a better idea?"
She was looking right at me, and there was a different, more sincere tone in her voice. I was starting to believe her, at least about not planning all of this with Kenny.
"There might be another problem," I said. "I saw one of your neighbors last night, while you were out with Kenny. I mean, one of your neighbors saw me."
"What neighbor?"
"Light-skinned black guy."
"Andre?"
"We didn't introduce ourselves."
"What about him?"
"He looked out of it," I said, "but he saw me in the hallway."
"Why were you in the hallway?"
"I was just… It's not important."
"Forget about Andre," Charlotte said. "He's an ex-con and a dealer he'll never talk to the cops. What about Kenny's money?"
"Tell him I need time."
"He won't give us»
"One day," I said. "Tell him we'll give him a payment tomorrow night."