Riding the Rap by Elmore Leonard Page A

bought a car, too, a Mercedes.” He said, “That could be the unfinished business. I have to do something about the car.”
    He heard her say, “Maybe,” as her hand left his shoulder and he watched the light reflecting on the ceiling dim and heard the rattle of venetian blinds being closed, her voice saying, “But I don’t think the car’s the reason you’re drawn to Rapallo. Where is it exactly?”
    â€œOn the coast, not too far from Genoa.”
    â€œI’m trying to picture it. I know Italy’s shaped like a boot. . . .”
    â€œThat’s right, so Rapallo’d be up there on the shin, just below where the boot spreads out to cover your knee.”
    â€œIn the northern part,” her voice said. “And you like to travel, don’t you?”
    â€œYou bet. That’s one of the advantages of Rapallo, it’s centrally located. Drive down to Rome, couple of hours to Milan. Anywhere you want to go’s fairly close.”
    â€œVisit other countries,” Dawn Navarro’s voice said. “Isn’t Switzerland right there?”
    â€œNot too far.”
    â€œYou’ve been there.”
    â€œYeah, a number of times; it’s beautiful.”
    â€œHarry, use that lever to tilt back; the footrest comes up.”
    He eased back all the way.
    â€œHow’s that?”
    â€œFine.”
    â€œYou’re comfortable?”
    â€œI could go to sleep.”
    Her voice said, “Close your eyes, but not too tight, and breathe slowly. I’m gonna count backward, Harry, down to one and then start to regress you. Okay? Here we go. Ten. Imagine all of your muscles relaxing, going limp. . . . Nine. In your face . . . your shoulders . . . down through your body . . . into your legs . . . Eight. You feel yourself drifting into a deeper state of relaxation . . . Seven. But you’re completely aware of everything that’s happening. . . . Six. You’re drifting deeper and deeper. . . .”
    Â 
    Bobby came around back to the kitchen door, Louis following with a roll of duct tape. Through the screen they could see Chip on the other side of the kitchen, by the door that opened into the living room, but couldn’t see what was going on in there. Chip, standing with his back to them, blocked their view—until Bobby opened the screen and Chip turned, pressing a finger to his mouth. Bobby went in first, moved across the linoleum to the doorway and shouldered Chip over to make room. He didn’t like it. He put on a look Bobby caught but ignored, Bobby watching the fortune-teller standing next to Harry in the recliner, the fortune-teller looking this way now, brushing her long hair from her face with the tips of her fingers, looking this way right at Bobby—checking him out—Bobby sure of it, the woman calm, still looking this way as she said, “Two. You’re deeply relaxed, Harry, you feel safe, comfortable.” Now she was looking at Harry again. “And one, you’re
ready to begin. First, though, I’mgonna take your hand in mine and stroke it, okay? You tell me what you feel.”
    Bobby watched her pinch the skin on the back of Harry’s hand, hard, and was surprised Harry didn’t jerk his hand away.
    She said, “Harry?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œDid you feel anything unpleasant?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDo you want to look at your hand?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œAre you willing to talk to me? Yes or no.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd go back in time? Yes or no.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWe’ll go back gradually, Harry, regress you to last year when you were in Italy for a short time. You said your money is over there in a Swiss bank? Yes or no.”
    â€œNo.”
    Bobby could see the fortune-teller, frowning now at Harry, didn’t expect him to say that. He watched her use two