by Norman Green
The driver glared at the two of them, then grabbed Baldie and heaved him to his feet. He glanced back at them once more. “I’ll see you around,” he said.
“Okay, pato,” the kid told him.
Marisa felt her face flaming red. She looked at the kid standing there with Baldie’s pistol in his hand. “Who are you?”
“Your father sent me,” he said, without looking at her, and she felt a chill run throughout her body. “This way, come on.”
“My girlfriend’s car…”
“No time for that,” he said. “Come on.”
He was parked in a lot behind a warehouse a short distance away. He had the car started and moving before she even got her door closed, but he stomped the brake before he got to the street. “Where’s your bag?”
“Back…Back there.”
“Shit. What’s in it?”
Her costume, the one she kept in Jeannette’s trunk, along with the money she’d made. “Nothing,” she said.
“You sure? Nothing with your name on it?”
“Nothing. Go.”
He parked next to an all-night drugstore in Hackensack, and the two of them went inside for first-aid supplies for Marisa’s bleeding hands. They stood outside by the car in a pool of light from the drugstore window while he used tweezers to pick the pebbles out of her palms, dabbing iodine on the holes they left behind. “You didn’t tell me your name,” she said, biting her lip as he probed with a pair of tweezers.
“Tuco.”
“Tuco? Is that your real name?”
“The name my mother gave me is Eddie. Nobody but her uses it.”
“Do you mind if I call you Eddie?”
“Whatever,” he said. “Gimme your other hand.”
“Did you go inside, Eddie? Back at the Jupiter?”
“What difference does it make?”
“I just want to know how rotten I should feel,” she said.
He looked up at her and nodded. “Hadda pay the door guy an extra twenty to let me in, on account of being underage.”
“Oh,” she said in a small voice. She winced as he dabbed iodine on one of the deeper cuts. “I’m sorry you saw that.”
“Me, too,” he said. “If it bothers you, why do it?” She didn’t answer.
“Who were those two guys?”
“Bodyguards,” she said. “They work for a man named Prior. He’s obsessed with me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Before me, he was all over this girl from Colombia, until she disappeared. Everybody thinks she went home, but nobody knows for sure.”
“You think he could have did something to her?”
“If he wanted to. He does whatever he wants.”
He finished with her hands, took the rest of the first-aid stuff, and dumped it in a trash can over by the pharmacy door. She stood by the car and waited for him to come back. “What now?” she said.
“Now I take you home.”
“No!” she said, alarmed. “You can’t! My mother thinks I’m staying at Jeannette’s house. If I go back now, she’ll…She’ll have all sorts of questions.”
“You’re in too deep,” he told her. “Your parents gonna find out anyhow. Might as well get it over with.”
“Oh, come on, Eddie! Can’t you give me a break? I’ll never go back to that place, I swear to you….”
“You don’t gotta swear nothing to me,” he said, turning away.
“If my father finds out, he’ll kill me.”
“If he finds out I knew about it and didn’t tell him, he’ll kill us both. Besides, those two assholes will be ready for me next time around. You won’t be so lucky.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Oh yeah?” His voice rose in disbelief. “Is that what you was doing back in that parking lot? Is that what that was? Because if it wasn’t for me, you’d probably be in the back of that fucking Lincoln right now, sugar, and telling your mother how you spend your nights wouldn’t be your number one problem.”
“I know, but…”
“But what? This is fucking stupid, you know that?”
She looked around the darkened street, but there was no one else in sight.
“Let me ax you something,” he said. “What do you got up in that head of yours, anyhow?”
She stood there, looking off down the empty street.
“Look at yourself,” he said. “You got everything.” She could hear a kernel of resentment in his voice. “I seen that house you live at, and I seen that that country-club school, too. You got everything, but you wanna piss it all away to go dance in some fucking hoochie joint?” He shook his head. “I been through this before.” He turned away from her. “I can’t do it again. It’s too hard.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You think you’re the first empty-headed female to piss her life away?” He turned back to face her. “I wouldn’t care, you know, if I didn’t, already like, talk to you and all that. But I can’t take this shit.” He shook his head. “I’m gonna tell your father I can’t do this anymore. He’s gonna have to lock your ass up in a convent or some shit.”
“Come on, Eddie. So I messed up. Haven’t you ever done anything stupid in your life?”
He stared at her. “That’s it? You think this is just, some little thing, like you bought the wrong color shoes, and now you got to take ’em back to the store?”
“Was it really that terrible?”
He shook glanced at his watch. “Anybody gonna be looking for you tonight?”
“Jeannette, maybe,” she said. “My girlfriend. I can leave a message on her voice mail.”
“Get in the car, then,” he said. “Somebody I want you to meet.”
It was well after midnight when they cruised down Troutman Street, just west of the Brooklyn/Queens border. The junkyards, sweatshops, garages, and factories were all boarded up tight for the night, but the whores and the dope dealers were still out, and commerce was still being conducted. Tuco cruised slowly past the small groups of neighborhood kids, waving off the few that approached the car. “She probably be down here somewhere,” he told her.
“Who is she?” Marisa asked him. “How do you know her?”
He didn’t answer.
“You live here?”
“Not anymore,” he said. “But my mother still lives right around the corner. I slept on her couch my whole life, almost.”
They passed a double-parked car. A man leaned his butt against the grille, his hands behind him on the hood. Marisa turned to look at him as they passed by, and the girl on her knees on front of the man paused to stare back. “What’s she doing?”
“What’s it look like? Hey, there’s someone, I think I know that kid.” He pointed to a knot of teenagers on the next block. “I only been gone a little while, but I was beginning to think everybody was gone.” He glanced at Marisa. “Lotta turnover in their business. Your father told me that.” He paused at the red light on the corner, then cruised through the intersection and pulled over, rolling his window down. “Yo, Mario,” he said. “That you?”
“Tuco!” One of the kids detached himself from the group and sauntered over. He looked like he was about fourteen, but Marisa had the impression that this kid was the real thing, and the guys in the rap videos were the poor copies. “Hey, muthafucka, wassup, bro? That look like yo lawyer’s car. You want some rims for that piece a shit, I could hook you up,” he said, laughing.
“No thanks, Mario.”
The kid peered past Tuco at Marisa. “You shoulda stuck around, back after you whacked out half a Dr. Jack’s crew,” he said, looking back at Tuco. He peered into the empty backseat. “You coulda stepped right up, bro, you coulda been the man round here. You coming back now, the shit is all tight. You gonna have some people up in yo face.”
“I don’t do retail, Mario. Listen, man, you know who I’m looking for. You seen her?”
“Miguel’s bitch? That ho is dead, yo.”
Tuco ex
haled, leaned back in his seat. “What happened? She OD?”
Mario shook his head. “Somebody cut her up. Cops found her down on Flushing, they took her to Woodhull, but you know how it is. You want me to find out who did her?”
Tuco looked like he was thinking it over. “No,” he said, after a minute. “She wasn’t mine. I was just trying to help her out.”
“Bitch was beat, anyhow,” Mario told him. “Used and abused, bro. Not like that sweet little white piece you got right there. Why you looking for some skank when you got that one?”
“She was no skank when she started out, Mario.”
“Well, she ain’t nothing now,” Mario said. “She ain’t even a whisper no more.”
“No,” Tuco agreed. “Thanks, Mario. I’m rolling.”
Mario pushed himself off the car, shot Tuco with an index finger as Tuco rolled up the window and pulled away. “Ain’t it nice?” he asked her, looking straight ahead. “This is what your father and Fat Tommy saved me from. Just makes me all homesick and shit.”
“Who’s the girl you were looking for?”
“The one that got sliced up?” Tuco turned left, headed up the hill. “She was as pretty as you are, once.” He exhaled, glanced over at her. “She didn’t come from Jersey, she grew up out on the island. Oyster Bay. Beautiful, out there. I wanted you to see her. I think—” He stopped, waited a moment. “I thought she really wanted to get out of it. I thought she was probably a good person, you know, besides being a addict. Maybe she was. Too late, now. Anyway, I wanted you to see her. She would have told you, you know, what she hadda do for ten bucks. Just so you’d know. You know what I’m saying? Because that business you’re in, it ain’t like it looks on television.” He looked away. “And I wanted to see her again, myself. Twist the knife one more goddam time.” He stopped at a red light, actually waited for it to turn green.
“Would you have wound up like Mario?” she said, after a minute.
“No,” he told her. “Mario’s way smarter than I was at his age. I probably woulda wound up dead. Anyhow, I could drop you on a good corner, that’s what you want. Might as well get right to it.”
“Stop it, Eddie,” she said. “Knock it the fuck off, okay? And take me home.”
It was still dark when Tuco slid the BMW up into Stoney’s driveway. He shut the car off, sat there listening to the engine ticking as it cooled down. Marisa put her hand on the door handle. “What did Mario mean,” she asked him, “when he said you whacked out half of Dr. Jack’s crew?”
“My cousin,” Tuco said. “My cousin Miguel.”
“Did you really kill him? And his crew?”
“He did it to himself,” Tuco said. “Listen, I’ll give you the day, all right? I’ll lie to your father one time for you. But work it out. Tell him straight up, that’s the best way. Because I owe him too much. You hear what I’m saying?”
“Yes,” she said. “All right.”
“You going to school today?”
“No,” she said.
“Well, do me a favor. Stay away from that other stupid cow, what was her name?”
“Jeannette?” She didn’t know whether to be outraged or not.
“Yeah, that’s her. From now on, I’m your dog. You wanna go somewhere, anywhere at all, you call me, I’ll take you. Can we do that?”
“Yes, Eddie,” she said. “Give me your phone number.”
“You got something to write on?”
“Just give me the number,” she told him. “I’ll remember it. I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”
The light over the garage door went on, and she got a good look at Tuco’s face, haggard in the stark white glare. “Oh, shit, that’s got to be my mother,” she said, and she opened her door. “I’m in for it now. I’m sorry about your friend, Eddie. The one they found on Flushing Avenue.”
“Me, too,” he said, and he gave her his phone number.
The front door opened, and she saw her mother standing in the doorway. “Eddie? Can you do me a favor? One more, I mean. I think you’d better come inside.”
ELEVEN
When Stoney called Tina Finbury, she suggested that they meet for a late breakfast. Stoney had resisted the impulse to grill her on the phone, but the two hours he had to wait before he saw her had been bad, and now he sat across from her in a booth at the Westwood Pancake House, sick to his stomach.
She reached across the table and put a hand on one of his. “You know, honey, this is not always such a nice business. But you can stop worrying, your wife isn’t seeing anybody.”
His head swam, he felt as though the chair he sat on and the floor under it were suddenly unsteady. Tina was still talking, and after a few seconds Stoney held up a hand to stop her. Relief and nausea washed over him in waves. God, it wasn’t true, what the hell had Marisa been talking about? But you still can’t assume that Donna feels anything for you. He closed his eyes, brought himself back under control. He took one of the paper napkins off the table and wiped his face with it. “All right,” he said. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “You ready? Your wife seems to be celibate. She goes to work, she goes home, she talks to her girlfriends on the phone. Attends some Al-Anon meetings. There are a few guys at those, but not many. Two alte kakhers in one of the meetings she goes to, some teenagers in another one. She didn’t talk to any of them, except to say hello.”
“How do you know that?”
“I went in,” she said. “I been, plenty of times, believe me. Okay, she uses her computer, but like an old woman. No chat rooms or any of that.”
“So what does that tell you?”
She smiled at him. “Try to keep up, honey. It means she’s not into any online funny business. She looks at the same stuff every time she logs on. She stays on for five, ten minutes, looks at the market, reads her e-mail and her horoscope, pulls the plug. That’s it. Now maybe, it’s remotely possible, she is seeing someone, or has in the past, and maybe they didn’t talk to each other this past week. But I’m telling you, my opinion, she’s an angel.”
Stoney leaned back in his chair. “God.”
“So that’s a good thing. But we’re not finished yet.”
“No?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Not quite. This next part is not so nice. I’m just gonna tell you straight out. On the nights your wife is out of the house, someone uses her computer to surf porn sites and adult chat rooms. At first, I assumed it was your son, you know?” She shrugged. “I mean, boys are boys, and they’re gonna look, if they think they can get away with it, and sometimes, even if they know they can’t. That’s how God made them. But he’s just thirteen, he’s all the time with the skates, I couldn’t see it. Didn’t feel right. And that only leaves you, honey, and your daughter, and you haven’t been home. Plus, your daughter spends a lot of time out of the house. Her girlfriend comes to pick her up, she walks out with schoolbooks and an overnight bag. Nobody said yes and nobody said no, but I thought I should go have a look.”
Stoney sighed. “Okay.”
She reached down into a bag at her feet, pulled out a red file folder, placed it on the table between the two of them. “Your daughter has been, aah, performing in what they like to call a ‘gentleman’s club’ these days. She’s a dancer.” Tina’s expression told him another word would have been more accurate, but she hadn’t used it, on his account. “There’s a written report in here, my name’s not on it anywhere, but it’ll tell you everything you need to know. Names, dates, phone conversation transcripts.” She hesitated, touched the folder with her fingertips. “I shredded everything I had. The only copy of any of this is right here. The phone taps are off, and the phone company has no record that they were ever there. There’s a disk in here, boot it up and follow the directions and it’ll clean out the spyware our chickenhearted friend put on your hard drive. It’s important you should do that, God forbid somebody comes looking later on, you don’t want anything there for them to see.” She cleared her th
roat. “Listen, I know it’s none of my business…”
He looked at her. “But.”
She nodded. “Don’t be too hard on her. Everybody makes mistakes.”
“Yeah, well.” He could hear his own pulse thundering in his ears. “I guess I made plenty.”
“We all do, love. I hired a photographer. The pictures are in the white envelope. Eight-by-tens. But, one thing…”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t look at them here. Take them home, do it in private.”
“Okay.” Stoney could feel his world resolving itself into black-and-white stills, becoming clearer, less complicated. Benny was right, he would know what to do when the time came.
“This gets worse,” she said.
“Jesus Christ, now what?”
“She worked for an escort service, too. I can’t say exactly what she did for them. Everything I do know is in that report.”
He leaned back as the room swam in a slow circle around him. His head seemed ripped in two separate directions as his relief over his wife’s loyalty competed with his distress over his daughter. What, exactly, had been her problem with Charles David Prior? “What’s the name of the escort service?”
“Perfect Angels.”
“All right,” he said, after a minute. “Listen, Tina, you did great. There’s just a couple of things we gotta cover.”
“Yes? My fee, for one, I know you’re too polite to mention it, but since this yutz you hired has taken a powder…”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you, but that’s not what I meant. Is there any way, say someone was looking for information, is there some way to tie you to this kid who is not your boss who took off on me?”
“No,” she said. “You told me before, he was looking into someone named Prior for you. Is he the one you’re worried about?”
“Yeah.” He told her about the dead security guard.
“Now I see why he ran away. Such a schmuck,” she said. “Well, I guess it was the smart thing. And no, honey, you don’t need to worry about me, my deal with him is strictly cash.” She smiled. “My ex-husband’s lawyers take such an interest in my career, I can’t tell you. But the stupid kid and his computer, sometimes you gotta shut the thing off and go look for yourself already. Microsoft Golf, he can beat Tiger Woods, but a real golf club, he don’t know which end to hang on to.”
