Lawyers, Guns and Money

Friday Evening, 5 August 1977

MEATPACKING DISTRICT, MANHATTAN

Kane drew his forty-five when he saw the matchstick on top of the black iron gate. A note was taped to his door. He recognized his landlord's scrawl by the glow of the street light, but didn't holster the gun since he was having a bad twenty-four hours and didn't see any reason for it to get better.

SHE INSISTED.

Kane entered, expecting to see Toni in the small sitting room, but it was empty. Kane went to the doorway to the bedroom. It was dark, but someone was in the bed. He flipped the overhead fluorescent, gun at the ready.

Truvey was in Kane's bed, the sheet strategically layered along the upper curvature of her bosom. She lay on her side, head propped up with one hand held aloft by her elbow, a pose that was too perfect to be random. She looked pretty good despite the awful lighting.

"How come you didn't ask if anyone wanted to kill me last night?" Truvey asked.

"Are you alone?" Kane asked.

"Am I not enough?" Truvey pouted. "Are you going to shoot me?"

Kane holstered the pistol. "You broke the sheets."

"I what?"

"What are you doing here?" Kane asked.

Truvey raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?" She sat up, the sheet falling to her waist, revealing her prominent assets.

"Seriously," Kane said.

"I didn't 'break' your sheets," Truvey said. "I got between them. The idea is—"

Kane interrupted her. "By the way, there's a bomb under the bed."

Truvey blinked hard several times as if that helped process the words. "You're joking."

"I've been accused by a number of people of not having much of a sense of humor and at this moment, I would trust their opinion."

Truvey scooted out from between the sheets, revealing a pair of thong panties and a plethora of skin. Kane tossed her the sundress draped over the books on top of the dresser.

As she pulled it on, he told her: "Let me dispel with the possibility so we don't waste time. I'm not interested in having sex with you. I'm more concerned with who attacked us last night and why."

As the dress settled over her body, with some hard tugging, Truvey backed away from the bed. "The bomb?"

"It's under the bed," Kane said. "But it's not armed. Technically it's just the explosives. For it to go off it needs--"

"Why do you have a bomb?"

"It was on the boat last night."

Truvey's voice climbed a few octaves. "What?"

Kane indicated the sitting room. "Come on. I'll explain."

Truvey sat on the couch while Kane took the chair that allowed him to see the foyer and the couch.

"My apologies for my social faux pas last night," Kane said. "Do you know anyone who'd want to kill you?"

Truvey shook her head. "No."

"You sound pretty certain."

Truvey spread her hands in innocence. "I'm a B-level actress trying to make my break. Who'd want to kill me?"

"That's what I was asking," Kane pointed out. "Why are you here?"

"I liked the way you handled things," Truvey said. "I wanted to express my gratitude. I think it could have gotten bad if you hadn't stepped up."