Clark was looking at me.
I looked at Evelyn.
She hadn’t taken her hand away from his. She hadn’t answered him either.
“We haven’t got much time,” I said.
“Then stop wasting it.”
Evelyn turned towards me.
“Jerry. Please.”
I started to tell her everything I thought was wrong with that.
Then I stopped.
I remembered my wife standing in our hallway with her coat on. She’d told me she was leaving. I’d spent the next hour explaining why she shouldn’t.
I could remember most of what I’d said.
Not much of what she had.
“You want to talk to him?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Alright.”
I got up.
“I’ll be at the bar.”
Clark watched me go.
* * *
The man who’d been working on the piano was behind the bar now. He had a sandwich on a plate.
“You want something?”
“Coffee.”
“Pot’s been on since this morning.”
“That fresh?”
He poured me a cup.
From there I could see their table in the mirror behind the bottles.
Clark had moved his chair closer. He was talking quietly now. Both hands around one of hers.
Evelyn listened.
I took a drink.
The coffee was worse than advertised.
Clark said something that made her look towards me.
I kept my eyes on the cup.
When I looked again, she was shaking her head.
He spoke. She answered.
He reached into his coat.
I put the coffee down.
His hand came out with a cigarette case.
I picked up my coffee again.
“Friend of yours?” the man behind the bar asked.
“Which one?”
“The fellow.”
“No.”
He looked past me.
“Didn’t think so.”
In the mirror, Clark offered Evelyn a cigarette. She shook her head.
He put the case away.
Then he stood and picked up her coat.
For a moment I thought she was going with him.
He held it out.
She stayed in her chair.
He said something.
She looked up at him and answered.
Whatever it was, he didn’t like it.
I turned on the stool.
The front door opened.
Pembroke came in with a plainclothes man behind him. He saw me at the bar, then looked towards the table.
Clark saw him too.
He put Evelyn’s coat down.
“Come on.”
She didn’t move.
“Clark.”
He took her arm and pulled her to her feet.
“We’re leaving.”
I got off the stool.
Pembroke stopped a few tables away.
“Mr. LeClaire.”
Clark turned towards the passage beside the stage.
Evelyn caught the edge of the table with her free hand.
“Stop.”
He pulled again.
Her chair fell over.
“I’m not going.”
He looked at her then.
Really looked at her.
“You told them?”
She didn’t answer.
“You brought them here?”
“I told Jerry the truth.”
Clark’s grip tightened.
I could see it in her face.
“Let go of her,” I said.
“Stay out of it.”
Pembroke moved to his left.
“Clark. We need to talk.”
“I’ve done enough talking.”
He pulled Evelyn away from the table.
She stumbled, caught herself, and tried to free her arm.
Then his other hand went inside his coat.
This time it wasn’t cigarettes.
The man behind the bar ducked. Pembroke’s hand went to his jacket.
I drew Sabbath.
“Easy,” Pembroke said.
Clark held the gun low, beside Evelyn. His eyes moved from the Sergeant to me.
“Back up.”
Nobody moved.
“I said back up.”
Evelyn was staring at the gun.
“Clark.”
“Quiet.”
He’d said it to her like she was making a fuss over nothing.
I kept Sabbath on him.
“Let her go.”
“I’m walking out.”
“Then let her go.”
He looked towards the passage.
Evelyn tried to pull away again.
“Stop that,” he said.
“You’re hurting me.”
He shifted his grip.
She twisted free and stepped behind the table.
Clark reached after her.
“Evelyn.”
She kept moving.
I stepped between them.
He brought the gun up a little.
“Don’t,” I said.
His eyes went to Sabbath.
Then over my shoulder.
Evelyn was beside the bar now. The plainclothes man had moved where he could cover the passage. Pembroke stood on Clark’s other side.
There wasn’t much room left for him.
“Put it down,” Pembroke said.
Clark looked at Evelyn.
“Tell them.”
She held her arm against her body.
“Tell them what happened.”
She didn’t answer.
“You saw him. You saw what Arthur was going to do.”
Her eyes were wet.
“I saw you shoot him.”
Clark stared at her.
Pembroke took another step.
“The gun.”
For a moment, I thought Clark was going to make us do it.
Then he lowered his hand.
Pembroke took the gun from him. The other detective came forward and turned Clark towards the table.
I put Sabbath away.
The cuffs sounded loud in the empty room.
* * *
Clark watched Evelyn while they searched him.
They took his wallet. His cigarette case. A few folded bills.
Then the detective held up a ring.
A square face. Musgrove’s initials.
Pembroke looked at me.
I nodded.
Clark watched the ring go into an envelope.
“Evelyn.”
She looked at him.
“We need to finish talking.”
Her coat was still on the table.
She went over and picked it up.
For a second his face changed. He thought she was coming to him.
She stopped beside Pembroke instead.
“Miss LeClaire?” the Sergeant said.
“I’ll tell you what happened.”
Clark looked away.
The detective took him towards the door.
Nobody said anything until they were outside.
The man behind the bar stood up slowly. He looked around the room, then at his sandwich.
Pembroke took out his notebook.
“We can do this at the station.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Give her a minute,” I said.
He looked at her arm.
Then he closed the notebook.
“I’ll be outside.”
* * *
I picked up her chair.
She sat.
There were red marks where Clark had held her. She pulled her sleeve down over them.
“What did he say to you?” I asked.
“When?”
“When I was at the bar.”
She looked at the empty chair across from her.
“He said he could get away if I gave him some money.”
“Did he ask you to go?”
“Yes.”
I waited.
“He said we could start again somewhere.”
“What did you say?”
“I asked what name I’d have to use.”
I sat down.
“He didn’t like that.”
“No.”
She smoothed her coat over her knees.
“Do you think he meant it?”
“About starting again?”
She nodded.
“I don’t know, Evelyn.”
She looked towards the front door.
“I wanted to.”
“I know.”
For a while, we sat there.
Then she stood.
“Will you come with me?”
“To the station?”
“Yes.”
I picked up my hat.
“Yea. I’ll come.”