something."
"You got a call," said Don. Whatever this was about, he knew it would be nasty, and he wanted Bagatti just to get on with it.
"From the guy who used to own this place. Actually, from his lawyer. Seems he was suspicious about the way Cindy was handling the sale and how low the price was that she was insisting on. He wanted eighty, you know."
"House isn't worth eighty."
"Well, I guess that's for the courts to decide, don't you think?" Bagatti shook his head. "I mean, that's how the guy's lawyer puts it. He put a detective on her. Got pictures of you going into her house. Coming out of her house. Kissing in the car. Figures it'll prove collusion."
"You seen the pictures, Bagatti?" asked Don.
"Why would I have seen them?" said the realtor.
Don picked him up by the shoulders and jammed him against the wall. His head made a kind of bounce against the plaster, and he lost his silly smirk. "I guess I didn't ask sincere enough," said Don. "You take those pictures, Bagatti?"
"Like I said, a private detective. This is assault, you know."
"Got pictures?" said Don.
"All the guy did was call me."
"So why you telling me and not Cindy?"
"He's gonna name both of you in the suit. But he said, like, maybe it could all go away."
"He said? Or you say?"
"What do you think? What are you talking about?"
"Blackmail," said Don. "Extortion."
"Not me," said Bagatti. "But maybe him."
"Maybe?"
"He said twenty thousand. You still get the house for ten thousand less than he asked for. It's a bargain, right?"
"But I bet he doesn't want to go back and adjust the price on the records, right?"
"Why screw up everybody's taxes?" asked Bagatti. "You'll still get a profit on the house."
"And you came to me?"
"Cindy's got no money," said Bagatti.
"How do you know that? She wouldn't tell you where to point your dick when you pee."
"Like I said, the guy has a private investigator. Man, you're hurting my shoulders."
Don let him slide down the wall to stand on his feet. But when Bagatti made as if to go for the door, Don bounced him back against the wall again. And, again, his head did that little rebound from the plaster. "Careful," said Don. "This is a bearing wall, I don't want to have to replace it just because you put a dent in it with your head."
"Look, Mr. Lark, I'm just a messenger."
"Tell me the lawyer's name."
"He didn't say. He said he'd contact you."
"I don't want any lawyer dust in this house. I'll go to his office and we'll work this out, or he can go ahead and take us to court, because nothing illegal happened."
"I'll tell him."
"No, I'll tell him. Give me his number."
"He said he'd call me back. Didn't give me a - "
This time his head didn't bounce as much. "Don't hold your neck stiff when I do that," said Don. "It'll just make it hurt worse later. Stay loose."
"You're hurting me, man."
"His number."
"Let go of me and I'll write it down."
Don stepped between Bagatti and the door and watched while he pulled out a business card and with trembling hands struggled to write the phone number.
"Memorized it, huh?" said Don. "From calling it so much?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you're the office sneak. You're the one tipped him off that maybe Cindy and I liked each other. And he must have got you to hire the detective. Fast work, getting those pictures only a couple of hours later."
"So what? The ice queen starts getting lovey with a client, I get suspicious, and it turned out I was right, wasn't I? Getting a thirty-thousand-dollar discount on the house. So don't get all righteous with me, calling me a sneak when you're a thief."
Right then. That was when Don could have crossed the line. All these years of self-control. All those months when he wanted to go kidnap his daughter and hide her in Bulgaria or Mongolia and he didn't do it. All those months, all those years afterward when he wanted to find his ex-wife's lawyer and smash the sanctimonious snake's head into splinters against a lightpost, and didn't do it. All the violence that had gone unexpressed, he wanted so badly to let go... and didn't.
Bagatti must have guessed at the decision he was making, because he cowered, watching Don's eyes. And when Don finally stepped back against the outside wall, letting Bagatti pass, the realtor bolted like a squirrel, out the door, down the porch