$16,949.00


	When the phone rings late at night, there is a limit to who it can be. I had three guesses as I picked it up: a wrong number (all wrong numbers are the same person), or Lois, or-I didn't bother to think his name. It isn't his anyway.
	"Hello?"
	"Hello," he said. "You know who this is?"
	"Kelsey." It's the name he tells me. "What is it, Kelsey? You're not due for another four months."
	"I need an advance. Are you sitting down?"
	'Tm in bed, you son of a bitch." Reading a book, but I didn't tell him that. Better he should be off balance.
	"Sorry. I just wanted you braced. I need sixteen thousand-"
	"Bug off!" I slammed the phone down.
	There was no point in picking up the book. He'd call again. Sometimes he waits a few minutes to make me nervous. This time the phone started ringing almost immediately, and
I snatched it up in the same instant and held it to my ear without saying anything. It's a kind of bluffing game, a game I always lose.
	"Kelsey again, and I'm not kidding. I need sixteen thousand, nine hundred and forty dollars. I need it by the end of the week."
	"You know perfectly well I can't do that! I can't make that much money disappear without somebody noticing: Lois, the bank, the Bureau of Internal Revenue. Dammit, Kelsey, we've worked this out before."
	"The best laid plans of mice and men-"
	"Go to hell." Something hit me then. "That's a funny number. As long as I can't pay anyway, why not make it seventeen thousand, or twenty? Why, uh, sixteen thousand nine hundred and forty?"
	"It just worked out that way." He sounded defensive.
	I probed. "What way?"
	"You aren't my only client."
	"Client? I'm a blackmail victim! At least be honest with yourself, Kelsey."
	"I am. Shall I tell you what you are?"
	"No." Someone might be listening, which was the point he was trying to make. "You've got other clients, huh? Go to one of them."
	"I did. It was a mistake." He hesitated, then, "Let's call him Horatio, okay? Horatio was a bank teller, long ago. He owns a hardware store now. I've known him about five years. I had to trace him myself, you understand. He embezzled some money while he was a teller."
	"What did he do, die on you when the mortgage was due?" I put sarcastic sympathy in my voice.
	"I wish he would. No, he waited for my usual call, which I make on April Fools Day. Not my idea; his. I call him once a year, just like you. So I called him and told him he was due, and he said he couldn't afford it any more. He got kind of brave-panicky, you know how it goes-"
	"Don't I just, damn you."
	"-and he said he wouldn't pay me another red cent if he had to go to prison for it. I got him to agree to meet me at a bar and grill. I hate doing that, Carson. I thought he might try to kill me."
	"Occupational hazard. I may return to this subject." I had threatened to kill Kelsey before this.
	He sounded disspirited. "It won't help you. I'm careful, Carson. I took a gun, and it was a public place, and I got there first. Besides, there are my files. If I die the cops'll go through those."
	I was going to need that information, someday, maybe. But it wasn't fun to hear. "So you met him in this bar and grill. What then?"
	"Well," he had the money right with him. He put it right out on the table, and I grabbed it quick because someone might be watching. Someone was, too. I saw the flashbulb go off, and by the time my eyes had stopped watering whoever it was was out the door. Ra-" He caught himself. "Horatio stopped me from getting out. He said, 'Do you know what the statute of limitations is for embezzlement?"
	"I remembered then. It was seven years, and Horatio had me by the balls. Blackmail. He figures I've taken him for sixteen thousand nine hundred dollars and no cents, plus forty bucks for the guy with the camera. He wants it back or he turns me in to the police, complete with photographs."
	Kelsey had never heard me laugh before and mean it. "That's hilarious. The Biter Bit bit. If you turn in your files it'll just be more evidence against you. You'll just have to fight it out in court, Kelsey. Tell 'em it's a first offense."
	"I've got a better idea. I'll get the money from you."
	"Nope. If I make that much money disappear, too many people would start wondering why. If they find out, I'm dead. Dead. Now I want you to remember that word, Kelsey, because it's important."
	"Files, Carson. I want you to remember that word, because it's important. If I die, somebody will go through my files and then call the cops."
	Well, it hadn't worked. Poor hard-luck Kelsey. "Okay, Kelsey. I'll have the money. Where can we meet?"
	"No need. Just get it to me the usual way."
	"Now, don't be a damn fool. I probably can't get it until Saturday, which means I'll have to get it to you Sunday. There isn't any mail Sunday."
	He didn't answer for awhile. Then, "Are you thinking of killing me?"
	I kept it light. "I'm always thinking of killing you, Kelsey."
	"Files."
	"I know. Do you want the, money or don't you?"
	I listened to the scared silence on the other end. Dammit, now I didn't want him scared. I was going to kill him. I'd have to find out where the files were first, and for that I'd have to have him alone, somewhere far away, for several bouts. He was going to be too wary for that. I could sense it.
	"Listen, there's a third way," he said suddenly. "If you move the money someone's likely to notice. If you kill me someone's sure to notice. But there's a third way."
	"Let's hear it."
	"Kill Horatio."
	I yelped. "Kelsey, what do you think I am, Murder Incorporated? I made one mistake. One."
	"You're not thinking. Carson, there is no connection between you and Horatio. None! Zilch! You can't even be suspected!"
	"Um." He was right.
	"You've got to do this for me, Carson. I'll never tap you for another dime . . ." He went on talking, but now I was way ahead of him. If I could get Horatio's photograph of Kelsey, I'd have Kelsey. No more payments. We'd have each other by the throats.
	Poor hard luck Horatio.