I said in a quiet voice, “How much do you want?”
“What can you afford?” He looked over at Mardi, then back at me. I knew he was playing with us.
“Fifty bucks a week,” I said, for something to say. I knew he’d got a figure, so I wanted to get to it quick.
He laughed. “I want fifteen grand now, and a hundred bucks a week until I get tired of asking for it.”
So that was that.
I got to my feet slowly. “You’re crazy,” I said. “We ain’t got fifteen grand.”
He shrugged. “You had twenty grand from me. You’ve got half of it salted away. You can sell the house and the furniture. She’s got some trinkets—you’ve got a few things around that’ll fetch something. You’ll make it up all right.”
“So you’re stripping us clean.”
He nodded. “Sure—ain’t she worth it to you?”
I wandered over to the window and looked out. “The Feds, are after you, too,” I said. “Suppose I turn you over to ’em?”