Part 3 (1/2)
”Why don't you take that money and leave?” Ketcham asked, reasonably.
Prasko considered the suggestion.
”Your father would be very embarra.s.sed if you had to call him and tell him you had been arrested for dealing in drugs,” Prasko said. ”It would probably cause him trouble at the bank.”
”Oh, Jesus!” Ketcham said.
”Who's the girl?” Prasko asked.
”What girl?”
Prasko struck him again with the back of his hand.
”I already told you, bulls.h.i.+t time is over.”
”My girlfriend,” Ketcham said. ”She doesn't know anything about this. You could let her go.”
”What did you do,” Prasko inquired sarcastically, ”tell her that tonight you were going to do something new? You were going to rent a motel room and go in, and she was going to sit outside in the car?”
”Take the money. Who'd ever know?” Ketcham said.
Prasko considered that again, then reached down and unlocked one of the handcuffs. He then motioned Ketcham to get to his feet.
”This is really the mature way to deal with this situation,” Ketcham said, extending the wrist that still had a handcuff attached, obviously expecting Prasko to free him of that cuff, too.
Instead, Prasko firmly took Ketcham's arm and led him into the bathroom, where he ordered him to sit on the floor beside the toilet. Then he attached the free end of his handcuff to the pipes running to the flus.h.i.+ng mechanism of the toilet.
”What are you doing?” Ketcham asked.
Prasko ignored him, went out of room 138 to the car, and tried the pa.s.senger-side door. It was locked.
”Come out of there, honey,” he ordered.
He saw the blonde looking up from the floor with horror in her eyes.
”Open up,” Prasko ordered.
The blonde tried to move away as far as she could.
Prasko unholstered his revolver and used the b.u.t.t as a hammer to shatter the window. Then he reached inside and unlocked the door.
”You can come out,” he said, ”or I can drag you out.”
She scurried across the floor to the open door, which caused her skirt to rise even higher.
Peggene had legs like that when I first met her. Now her legs look like s.h.i.+t.
He took the girl's arm and led her into room 138 and closed and locked the door without letting go of her arm.
When she saw Ketcham handcuffed to the c.r.a.pper, she sucked in her breath.
”What you are, honey,” Prasko said, ”is an accessory to a felony, possession of controlled substances with the intent to distribute.”
”Ronny?” the girl asked, looking into the bathroom.
”We're working something out, Cynthia,” Ketcham said. ”Just take it easy.”
The girl looked at Prasko defiantly.
Prasko walked to the bathroom door and closed it. ”He had some money,” he said to the girl. ”I may let him go. What have you got to trade?”
”I've got a little money,” she said.
”He had twenty thousand. You got that much?”
”No!”
”Then I guess you're both going to jail.”
”I could probably get you some money,” the girl said.
”Twenty thousand? That kind of money?”
She shook her head, no.
”How about five minutes of your time?” Prasko asked.
”Five minutes of my time? I don't understand.”
”Yeah, you understand,” Prasko said.
”Oh, my G.o.d!”
”That's probably what your mother'll say when you call her from Central Lockup and tell her you need bailing out, and for what.”
The girl started to whimper.
”You gonna start taking your clothes off, or not?” Prasko said. ”I don't have all night.”
Sobbing now, the girl unb.u.t.toned her blouse and shrugged out of it, then unfastened her skirt and let it fall to the floor.
”All of it, all of it,” Prasko said.
The girl unfastened her bra.s.siere and then, now moving quickly, pushed her white underpants down off her hips. Then she backed up to the bed and lay down on it, her legs spread, her face to one side, so she didn't have to look at Prasko.