50
Friday
A sharp knock on the door punctured the rumble of thunder and Willow’s mind flickered briefly to Kathy Bucknell and Poe’s raven…“‘Tis some visitor.’ I muttered…” Willow said, “All right,” and Lieutenant Buck Curtin came in, blowing on his hands, his teeth chattering. He growled, “Cocksucker of a night out there.”
Willow shrugged. “Only fifty-some shopping days till Christmas.”
Curtin stood in the center of the room, water dripping from the brim of his shapeless hat, his hands stuffed into his hip pockets. “We watched her come out. That broad moves like a cat.”
Willow said, “Yeah, and she’s just that crafty.”
“Her Mercedes is parked up the street. I got two guys tagging her and two more at her car. They’ll make the collar and go through the automobile. She isn’t armed, is she?”
“Hell, yes, she’s armed! She has an orchid tattooed on her ass!”
“Well, she sure ain’t gonna kill nobody with that.”
Willow frowned. “You don’t think so?”
Curtin was peering at Willow. “Regrets?”
“All the precincts aren’t in.”
“Uh-huh, well, don’t get moody. You’ve been cooperative and we’re gonna repair your Buick.”
“You’re gonna do a helluva lot better than that. I get pipes, rubber, and paint or you get another witness. Furthermore, I sue for whiplash.”
“Whiplash? Why, the only whiplash you ever got was from eating pussy! You weren’t even in that fucking pile of iron!”
“Yeah, you know that, and I know that, but nobody else knows that!”
“Okay, Willow, we’ll work it out. What color paint job?”
“You’re buying, you name it.”
“Hey, how’s purple? That way people will think you’re a pimp.”
“Why not blue and white? That way they’ll think I’m a whore.”
“Aw, c’mon, Willow. What you got against cops?”
“Nothing that I can’t prove.”
“You catch it all?”
Willow pulled the little tape recorder from a pocket of his jacket draped on the couch. He handed it to Curtin. “The whole shot.”
“She said enough?”
“Plenty. She talked up a storm.”
“Don’t feel bad, Willow. You know the Illinois justice system. She’ll be out in five years.”
“Then in five years I’d better be in fucking Tokyo.”
Curtin glanced at the Heffernan-Reese on the floor. “That’s the weapon?”
“That’s it.” He tossed the silencer to Curtin. “Her ammo’s in the bathroom flush-box.”
“Hey, Willow, tell me something.”
“Sure, I know damned near everything.”
“You could have taken her yourself, you had her cold turkey. Why didn’t you?”
“That’s one of the things I don’t know.”
Curtin yawned. “Well, anyway, you done real good. I’ll give you a lift home.”
“Decent of you.”
“Want a cool one on the way?”
“Probably.”
“Where should we stop?”
“Suit yourself.”
Curtin said, “How’s Raponi’s?”
“No, not Raponi’s, not tonight.”
“Hey, that’s a real nice joint! How come not Raponi’s?”
“How come not Raponi’s? Jesus H. Christ, Curtin, it’s Friday night!”
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