"Memory's fine. Especially for enemies. I'm sure it wasn't Roland."
Evelyn turned to me. "So Jack killed his dog, and then he tied Roland to his bed and took away the phone."
"Huh," Jack said. "That's right. Wasn't Roland, though."
"What happened then?" I asked Evelyn.
"Nothing," Evelyn said. "Jack left him there. The poor guy lived alone, him and the dog, a mile from the nearest neighbor. It was three days before one of Roland's confederates came by and found him."
"Three days?"
"Left him water," Jack said.
Evelyn turned to me. "The dog's water dish was beside the bed."
"Food dish, too."
I laughed.
"Roland didn't think it was quite so amusing," Evelyn said.
"Reggie," Jack said. "That was the guy's name. I remember now. Reggie outta Miami. Left the business . . ." Jack glanced at Evelyn. "Ah, fuck."
"Fuck, indeed. The colleague who found him couldn't keep his mouth shut. He made Reggie a laughingstock in the business. Reggie was smart enough to not say who'd tied him up and left him eating dog food, but his career as a middleman was over. He retired. Then, ten years ago, he got tired of the regular life and came back as Roland."
"You never told me?" Jack said.
&n
bsp; "You don't deal with middlemen. There was no chance you were going to accidentally bump into him. It seemed best for all if I let him keep his cover."
"But if you know who he really is, can't we use that?" I asked.
"It's been too long," Jack said. "Seventeen years. No one left to remember. Just us."
"And Roland," Evelyn said. "I bet if you paid him a visit, he'd be happy to give you the name of his client. In return for getting the hell out of his life and staying there." She paused. "I hear he has a new dog."
"Yeah," Jack said. "Great fucking plan. I show up. Demand to know who put out the hit on Dee. Who Roland knows by her real name. Linking her real life with me--a hitman."
"We could work it so he never realizes that you know her or--"
"No risk."
"Every plan has an element of risk and it's a matter of managing--"
"Not this. Won't risk tying Nadia to me. Or to you. Or to Dee."
Tying me to my hitman identity is what he meant. After a minute, Evelyn conceded his point. I had a real life, outside of this one, and even if she thought that was absolute foolishness, she knew Jack wouldn't do anything to ruin it.
We talked some more and settled on a reasonable plan.
"Dinner?" Jack said to me as the conversation ran down.
"We're going out?" Evelyn said. "Excellent. I've heard there's a wonderful--"
"Us," Jack said. "Not you."
"We just thought--" I began. "I mean, we know you don't like steakhouses, and I owe Jack for all of his help so I offered to take him out . . ."