How to Rob an Armored Car Read Free Page B

something to do with that.”
    “I know he does,” said Doug. “No matter how many times I deny it. I mean, if you’re accused of something you didn’t do and you can’t really prove you didn’t do it . . .”
    He trailed off, hurt just thinking about it. About two and a half years ago, when Kevin had been growing a field of marijuana plants in his basement and Doug had been selling the harvest for him, it had all ended suddenly. One day, cops had come in and seized the whole lot, thousands of dollars worth of lights and fans and fertilizer, and thrown Kevin in jail for ninety days. Kevin’s theory was that Doug had been busted for possession and had told the cops who was growing the plants as a condition for immunity. Doug had, in fact, never been busted, and the whole thing was a hurtful and miserable episode he was always hoping was behind them but which never actually seemed to be. Kevin would often claim it was over, that he believed him, and then the next time they were out drinking, after a shot of tequila or two, Kevin would put his arm around him and say something like, “Really, man. I won’t get mad. Just tell me what happened.”
    Linda was looking at Doug, studying him, and for a paranoid second he thought that Kevin had put Linda up to this—have him over, make him tea, and see if he confesses. Then he decided that the paranoia was probably just the joint he had fired up on his way over. He doubted Kevin and Linda ever spoke to each other long enough to hatch a plan. But just to make sure, he added, “I didn’t do it. I never got busted.”
    “I know, sweetie,” Linda said. “I never thought you did.”
    Her voice was warm and friendly, revealing a side of her Doug had never noticed before, and she suddenly struck him as a person, a woman, a different entity from Kevin, with whom Doug had always associated her. It was always Kevin and Linda. For four years, he had seen her come and go and occasionally spoken to her, but she hadn’t existed for him except as Kevin’s accessory, much like his car or his sunglasses. He liked being called sweetie too.
    “Why does he think I did it? I mean, after all this time, I’d admit it if it had ever happened. Does he really think I’d turn him in? Dude, you know what they do to you for dealing? It’s like a slap on the wrist. I wouldn’t ruin his life for a slap on the wrist, you know.”
    Linda looked at him thoughtfully. “You know, honestly, I always thought of you as a waste case,” she said. “You’re really a nice guy. I can see why Kevin likes you.”
    “I always thought of you as a nag.”
    There was a moment of silence, and then they both laughed. Linda leaned across the table and said with a conspiratorial grin, “Hey, you don’t have any smoke with you, do you?”
    “Yeah, I do,” Doug said. “Do you have any . . . like, uh . . . fuckin’ double-A batteries?”

    KEVIN WAS WALKING a pit bull in the rain. The pit bull was named Jeffrey, and he belonged to a shifty doctor who lived alone in a million-dollar house in Westlake. Kevin figured the dog had not been bought for companionship, but because the doctor was too cheap to install a security system. Or maybe not too cheap. Maybe he liked the idea that, instead of hearing an impotent alarm go off, a burglar should be torn to shreds. Having been banished to the yard, even during the harsh winters, Jeffrey was usually in a state of physical neglect and starved of human contact, and was always so happy to see Kevin on his daily half-hour visits that it was often difficult to get his leash on for all the joyful bouncing around. Eyeing the sores on the poor dog’s back as the rain grew heavier, Kevin wondered if the alarm system wouldn’t have been a better decision for all involved.
    Kevin had started his dog-walking business two years ago, purely by chance. Fresh from a ninety-day stint in jail and convinced that no one would ever hire him, he had been moping around the house when