Shell Game – Chapter 23 – Claire’s Story

Evan stormed straight to the bathroom, rubbing his jaw the whole way. Claire clasped her hands together and followed him.

“Why did they come here, Evan?” Claire asked.

Evan didn’t acknowledge her. He turned his face to the left and right in the mirror, double-checking to see if there was any lasting damage from Bobby Short’s sucker punch.

“Thinks he can slug me and get away with it,” Evan muttered to no one. “Thinks because he… that he walks the streets with a badge, that that gives him the right to-” Evan slammed his fist on the porcelain basin, causing the surrounding toiletries to jump in surprise. His eyes shifted to Claire, who was still standing in the doorway and twisting her hands. “I tell you, it’s not in me not to fight back. It’s not the way things are done. I mean, a guy takes a cheap shot, you got to do something.” Evan clicked off the bathroom light and brushed past Claire on the way back to the living room. “I knew I had pressed him too far. I knew I had been too cute. I let my mouth get the better of me. But I couldn’t hit back, not a cop. I had to stand there and take it.”

Claire watched him standing in the middle of the room, grinding his teeth, and rolling his fingers in and out of a fist.
“I want to know what sort of game you’re playing, Evan,” Claire said, keeping her distance. “I can’t have the police onto me. You said you’d protect me from them, and then they come here for no reason. You’re taking a lot of risks, and it’s risks with my safety. You shouldn’t play so carelessly with the police like that; you’ll raise too much attention.”

“But see, that’s what he wanted,” Evan said, not listening. “He wanted me to hit him back. That’s his game. He wanted me to slip up, to end up in the slammer. I had to take it. I had to.”

“What are you talking about?” Claire said, taking a few hesitant steps toward Evan. “You’re worrying me, Evan.”

Evan suddenly shook his head before walking a complete circle around the room, muttering to himself. “Besides, I had things wrapped up at the door. Till…” he stopped short and turned all of his attention on Claire. “Why couldn’t you two keep it together for one more minute?” Claire’s lips moved minutely, but her voice made no sound. “I almost had them on their way. What actually happened between you two anyway?”

Claire turned slowly away from him. “Nothing really. You went to the door. We talked briefly. I don’t know what happened. I think Harold must’ve got spooked, panicked, and cried out.”

Evan’s eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms, “So was it before or after he screamed that you hit him with the gun?”
“What… a… What a thing to accuse me of!”

He then pulled Harold’s sub-nose from his trousers pocket, absent-mindedly placing it on the flowerless table. “It’s the only thing available that could make a cut like that on his cheek. You’re not wearing any rings, and we both know anything Harold said was hooey.”

Claire quickly closed the distance between them. “You have to believe me,” she searched his eyes for any sign of understanding or mercy, “it wasn’t like that. He’s not right in his mind. You saw that. We were talking, he got spooked, and he attacked me. I had to do something. Oh, please don’t be angry with me, Evan. I don’t know if I could take it if you were mad at me.” Her voice changed to the whimpering coo of a child caught with stolen candy. She rested her head on his shoulder.

Evan took Claire by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length. He looked at her sad, wet eyes, eyes full of fear and misery. Evan clucked his tongue and said, “I have to tell you, Miss Porter, you have skills. You have the skills of the best con artists. You take whatever material is available to paint a new reality. And you have the common decency to believe your story. That takes commitment. But, I have to tell you, you don’t know what you’re doing. I don’t know what or who you’re afraid of, but you need to come clean with me before it gets you hurt, and I mean hurt for good.”

Claire slipped out of Evan’s grasp and walked to the fireplace. She held her face in her hands. Without turning to Evan, she whispered, “I’m sorry,” then louder, “I think I’m just in over my head. I trust you, believe me, I trust you. I trust you more than any man I’ve ever known. But I have been lying so long about so many things. I don’t know if I could tell you the whole truth about anything.”

Evan relaxed his shoulders and let out a long breath. He sat on the arm of the sofa and smoothed back his hair. “Well, we have this going for us; you’ve met with Huber, so I’ve fully ruled out this; whatever is going on is not about your long-lost father or the unfortunate end of your boyfriend.” Claire turned to refute this claim, but Evan quickly cut her off, “Sorry, not boyfriend. Business partner. The good news for both of us is that now you can come clean with what this is really about.”

Claire turned back to the fireplace. “Let’s start with tonight,” Evan said. “What were you and Harold talking about that caused all the ruckus?” Evan asked.

It took a few seconds, but slowly Claire turned to face Evan and sat in the armchair. “I met Harold in Colorado. Both of us were just two-bit hustlers trying to find a meal. His standards are better than mine, and he showed me how to play wealthier people. I was already involved with Jason at this point, and I introduced the two of them. Anyway, we were hired to work a simple heist. At least that’s what we were told. All we were to grab was a very rare pearl. We weren’t told who it was for or why it needed to be stolen. I’m ashamed to say that the money looked good enough, so I didn’t ask any questions.

“Everything went fine in the heist, just a quick in and out. But it got lost before we could get it to Harold. Harold swears I stole it, but I didn’t. You must know that. I didn’t. But I got scared, so Jason and I split up and skipped town, agreeing to end up here.” She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “So, while you were talking with the police at the door, he kept pressing me and pressing me, ‘Where is it? Where is it?’ He even drew that silly gun on me. I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. I don’t know why I did it. I wasn’t thinking. I lunged at him, somehow got the gun away from him, and hit him across the face with it. He cried and bumped the table, which broke your vase.”

Evan looked at her, “So, you blew your chance to finish talking with him? To convince him of your honesty?”
Claire looked back at Evan. He rose to the telephone and picked up the receiver, “I could call him back here, so you two can wrap things up.”

“Please, don’t,” she said as she lunged at the phone.

Evan placed the receiver back in the phone’s cradle. “Listen, your safety, if that’s what you’re concerned with, is directly related to how much truth you tell me. I can’t help you if my hands are tied. Especially if I don’t know they’re tied. You need to come clean with me. I need to know what happened.”

Claire’s mouth formed a tight smile, and she said, “I’m tired. It can wait. I think it would be better, maybe, if I went home, got some rest, and we did this again in the morning.” She took a step to get past Evan, but he also took a step back, placing his large frame between her and the door.

“You tell a good story, but I can’t let you go,” Evan said. “Not yet. I’m not kidding. I need to know what I’m dealing with here.”

“Please, Evan,” she said, “if I told you everything, it would take hours.”

“I’ve got nothing but time,” Evan said, “I can put the coffee on, and we can watch the sunrise while you tell me your story of hardship and heartbreak.”

“So, what, now my protector has become my captor?” Claire said.

Evan tilted his head to one side. “You make an interesting point. Maybe I should let you go. After all, there’s that woman out there. She seemed to give you and Harold the jeebies. You could go out there and take your chances with her, or whatever bogey man is out there, or you could stay here, and we play Story Time.”

The rate of Claire’s breathing increased as she looked to the window. “Of course, at this hour,” she said, “and with the visit by the police, how do we know that woman is still out there?”

“That’s right,” Evan arched his eyebrows in mock playfulness, “we don’t. Let’s take a gander, shall we?” Evan walked over to the window and pulled back the drapes’ corner to get a good look. If Ms. Bacall was still out there, she had decided to conceal her position, which didn’t fit her style.

“Seems you’re off the hook, kitten. The Bogey Woman’s packed it in for the night,” Evan said. He turned back around and saw Claire standing just as he had left her, but also that her right hand clasped Harold’s snub-nose, pointing it to the floor.

Evan smiled, “I should tell you; I’ve already taken the bullets out of the gun.” He approached Claire and quietly, smoothly removed the gun from Claire’s limp and clammy hand. He guided her back to the sofa. “You sit here. Get your color back. I’m going to make us some coffee; good ol’, coal-black diner coffee. And we’ll go over the story as many times as it takes till we get to the truth. How’s that?”

Claire nodded slightly. Evan walked to the kitchen. “I think you’ll feel better getting this whole thing off your chest.”