“Rachel called me. Said she hadn’t seen you for three days, and that an albino dwarf and a redheaded giant had come to see her, asking about you.”
“Jesus. She all right?”
“Oh yeah, what were they going to do, beat up a cripple? She told them the truth, that you’d stayed a couple of days, then disappeared without a word. They took your stuff and left her alone. But I don’t think it’d be a good idea to go back to her place.”
“No.” Images of Francie Miller surfaced, then sputtered away. At least Rachel was all right. “I’m not even going back to my own place for a while.”
“You’ve got another problem,” Alexandra said.
“What’s that?”
“Connie.”
“Connie?”
“Yes. She showed up in the building courtyard two days ago, waiting for you. I told her you weren’t around, but she wouldn’t leave. I’ve put her up in my place, but she won’t go home until she’s had a chance to talk to you.”
“Christ.” Tanner rubbed at his face, at the rough stubble on his cheeks.
“She’s a good kid, Louis. I’ve spent a lot of time with her the last two days, and I really like her.”
Tanner sighed. “Yeah, she is, but right now she’s being a goddamn pain in the ass.”
“Louis…”
“I know, I know.” He paused, closing his eyes. “Is she there now?”
“Yes. Will you talk to her?”
“Sure.”
Tanner sank back in the overstuffed chair, gazing up at the ceiling. The plaster was heavily cracked, the paint peeling away; someone had painted the cracks blue so they looked like rivers on a map.
“Hi, Louis.”
“Hello, Connie.” He wanted to ask her what the hell she thought she was doing, but he didn’t think that would be very constructive. Instead, he waited for her to take the initiative.
“I need to talk to you, Louis.” Her tone was even and self-assured, without a hint of pleading.
“Now is not a good time,” Tanner said. Jesus, he thought, what an idiotic thing to say. “What I mean is, I’m in the middle of some things, I’ve got too much going on. Give me a couple of weeks, until I can finish things here, then I’ll come down to San Jose and talk to you. Take a day, spend all the time we need together.”
“Don’t patronize me, Louis.”
“I’m not, Connie. I’m in the middle of some complicated shit, and I just can’t pull away from it. It’s important.”
“So is this. And I’m not going back until I see you. I just won’t.”
Tanner did not say anything, unsure of how to respond.
“Do you understand me, Louis?”
“Yes.” He understood how damn stubborn she could be.
“Do you believe me?”
“Yes, Connie. I know you, testa dura.” Hard head. What his Italian grandmother had called him when he was a kid. He heard her laugh; it was a term of affection he’d had for Connie for years. “All right. But listen, it’s not a good idea for me to go back to my apartment right now, so how about we meet for dinner? Alexandra can bring you.”
“Okay.”
“And will you go home after we talk?”
“Yes.”
“Have you talked to your mom, let her know you haven’t been kidnapped or anything?”
“Of course, Louis. She doesn’t know where I am, but she knows I’m okay.”
“All right, why don’t you put Alexandra back on, and I’ll see you tonight for dinner.”
“Okay. Bye.”
A moment later Alexandra came back on.
“So what is it?”
“Dinner at Joyce Wah’s tonight. Make it seven o’clock. I’d like you to come with her, then bring her back. It’s not a good idea for her to be…”
“I know, Louis. We’ll be there.”
“All right, see you then.”
“Ciao.”
He hung up the phone and looked back up at the ceiling. Rivers in the plaster. The shower was still going. What the hell was Rossi doing?
Tanner got up and hurried into the bathroom, afraid something had happened to Rossi. The shower curtains were wrapped completely around the big old clawfoot bathtub, and the water hissed steadily behind them. Tanner pulled open the curtain. Rossi was curled up in the bottom of the tub, fast asleep and snoring under the steady shower of lukewarm water.
Tanner reached in, turned off the water. He thought about waking Rossi, but decided it wasn’t worth it. Let the bastard sleep. He folded a towel, put it under Rossi’s head for a pillow, then walked out.
Widgie’s was something like an open-air cafe, a vast network of interconnected fire-escapes between two red brick buildings; swaying catwalks linked the fire-escape platforms across the alley, along with a seemingly random system of dumbwaiters that moved up and down among the dozen or so levels. Another network of pneumatic tubes for orders ran among the ladders and catwalks. A clear plastic dome covered the entire alley, shelter from the daily rains.
Tanner entered the alley, searched the platforms, and spotted Carlucci at one of the most isolated tables, up on the sixth or seventh level. Shit. It was going to be a climb.
A host approached Tanner to seat him, but Tanner said he was meeting someone. The host frowned, bowed, then retreated, and Tanner started up the nearest ladder.
After leaving Rossi’s place, Tanner had gone to a cafe down the street for breakfast, a tiny run-down place called Maria’s Kitchen, where he had an enormous, and delicious, plate of black beans, rice, eggs, and salsa. He had eaten every bit of it, including two warm tortillas, surprised at his appetite. He decided it had something to do with being alive. It was only now sinking in just how lucky he was.
Tanner stopped twice to rest on the way up, and felt exhausted by the time he reached Carlucci’s table, sweating heavily in the damp heat. But the exertion and sweat felt good, almost cleansing. He dropped into the seat across from Carlucci. There was a thermal pot of coffee on the table, along with two cups. Carlucci poured a cup for Tanner, pushed it to him. Tanner was ready for coffee, something to help get his head going again.
“You look like shit,” Carlucci said.
“Thanks. That’s what Hannah said, too.” He drank from the coffee, which was hot, but not too strong. It would help, and his stomach would survive it.
“Well, she was right. What the hell happened to you?”
“Long, painful story,” Tanner said. “You won’t like it.”
Carlucci grimaced. “I don’t guess I will.” He shook his head. “You know that name I gave you? For help in the Tenderloin. Francie Miller.” He breathed deeply once. “She’s dead.”
Tanner drank from his coffee, sipping slowly, not looking at Carlucci. “I know,” he finally said, turning to face him. “I watched her die.”
Carlucci didn’t say anything for a long time, staring back at Tanner. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost without inflection. “Jesus…Christ.” Another long pause, a shake of his head, then, “So tell me about it.”
Tanner did. Everything from the time he entered the Tenderloin until he emerged into Tornado Alley. Carlucci listened without interruption, occasionally grimacing or shaking his head or pressing his temples, but not saying anything. When Tanner was finished, neither one of them said anything for a long time. Tanner looked around Widgie’s, listening to the mix of voices, clattering dishes, dumbwaiter squeals, muffled thumps of pneumatic tubes, echoing footsteps.
“Well, shit,” Carlucci eventually said. “This is real fucking progress.” He leaned back and patted at his shirt pocket. “God damn it, times like this I wish I hadn’t quit smoking.” He set both hands on the table, stared at them for several moments, then looked up at Tanner again. “And we’ve got more bodies.”
“How many?”
“Four. One triple, and a single.”
“A single?”
“Yeah, that’s a new one. Kind of strange, guy chained to himself. We pul
led him out of a cistern back of a condemned warehouse.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “Not typical, but it’s definitely our old friend, the same mother fucker. Maybe he’s just ‘expanding his horizons.’” Carlucci made a harsh growling sound in his throat. “Wonderful thought.”
“Are they coming faster than last time?”
“So far, looks that way. Making up for lost time, that’s what Rollo says. He may have something.”
Carlucci poured another cup of coffee for himself. Tanner held his own cup with both hands, tipping it from side to side, watching the dark brown liquid swirl. High above them, rain started on the plastic dome, a high, echoing clatter; at the far end of the alley, Tanner could see it coming down in sheets, a real downpour. He did not like the way any of this was going.
“What about what Max said?” Tanner asked. “Rattan and some cops working something together.”
Carlucci breathed in deeply, slowly let it out. “May be true. I’ve heard some things the last few months. Didn’t pay much attention, really, none of it seemed too likely.” He paused. “No idea what it’s all about, but I guess I’ll have to check it out now.”
“Yeah, do that. I don’t like feeling like I don’t know shit about what’s going on. It’s my ass out there, and I’ve already come damn close to losing it.”
Carlucci nodded once. “Maybe it’s not a good idea to go back in there looking for him.”
Tanner gave him a brief, chopped laugh. “It’s a terrible idea. But have you got a better one?”
Carlucci shook his head. “I tried. I even set up a private session with one of the slugs, fed him the info about you and Freeman and Rattan, anything I had.”
“So what did he come up with?”
“A lot of useless bullshit, and one concrete course of action.”
“Which was?”
“Find Rattan.”
Tanner tried laughing. “That’s fucking great. The slug boosted all that brain juice to come up with that?”
Carlucci shrugged. “You want to reconsider?”
“I’m constantly reconsidering,” Tanner said. “But I’ll go back in. I’ll find the son of a bitch.” Tanner wished he actually felt that confident.
“Where you going to stay now?” Carlucci asked.
“Probably not inside. I’ll be better off now going in and out. And with Max running loose, I’ll have to stay away from my apartment.”
“I know it probably won’t do much good, but we’ll put out a warrant for Max’s arrest, try to pick up the little fucker. Another goddamn cop killing.” He paused, looking steadily at Tanner. “I wonder what the hell Francie was up to, trying to find Rattan.”
Tanner nodded. He had asked himself the same question. One more thing he didn’t know. “Trying to nail him for the cop killings?” Tanner suggested. “A boost for her career?”
Carlucci shook his head. “No, not the way it played out, something not right about the whole thing. So, where are you going to stay?” Carlucci asked again. “I want to be able to reach you.”
“With Hannah and Rossi, probably. I’m sure they’ll put me up.”
Carlucci nodded. He sipped at his coffee, made a face, then poured it back into the thermal pot. He swirled the pot, poured himself a fresh cup, then poured some for Tanner. “You don’t carry a gun, do you?”
Tanner shook his head.
“You should. Now, anyway.”
Tanner shook his head again. “A gun wouldn’t have done me a damn bit of good with Max. What I could use, though, is some cash. I’ll be able to get most of the money back from the streetbank, but I’m broke until then.”
Carlucci took several bills from his wallet, handed them to Tanner, who stuck them into his pocket. “I’m also trying to work up a few more grand,” Carlucci said. “In case you need it.”
“I hope I get the chance.”
They drank their coffee in silence. Tanner listened closely to the sounds of the rain, letting it wash out all the other sounds in Widgie’s. He was tired and depressed, yet somehow invigorated as well. A part of him wanted to just collapse and sleep for a few days. But another was anxious to get back into the Tenderloin, anxious to resume his search for Rattan, anxious to talk to Rattan. Tanner wanted to know what the hell was going on, and what, if anything, it had to do with the Chain Killer.
“I want to meet every two or three days,” Carlucci said. “We’ve got to stay in touch. We have got to keep together on this, or we’ll both end up in deep shit, and you deeper than me.”
Tanner nodded. “I’ll call you,” he said.
“You going to rest up a couple days?” Carlucci asked.
“No, I’m okay. I want to get back at it. I’m tired of hearing about more and more dead bodies.”
“Yeah, well just make sure yours isn’t one of them.”
Tanner smiled. “Good thinking. I’ll keep it in mind.”
23
SOOKIE FOLLOWED HIM all night and day. Behind him up the rungs and out into Tornado Alley. Creeping along a few feet back, silent and on all fours, crabbing among the bodies. What a stink!
Worse, though, was waiting all night across from the apartment building. He went in and didn’t come out, so she had to wait. She wedged herself onto a second-floor ledge directly across the street, jammed between a window frame and a sewage pipe. It rained once. Noises from the pipe all night; wood jammed into her side. She didn’t sleep much.
Morning, and nothing. Lots of other people came out of the apartment, but not Tanner. Maybe she’d missed him? She crawled down from the ledge, her ribs and knees aching, walked around, working it out. She had to keep moving to stay away from the pervs who kept after her.
Then, close to noon, he came out, and she followed him to Maria’s Kitchen. Hung out while he sat inside and ate. Crouched behind a trash bin, she could see him in the window. Her stomach twisted in on itself, a few sharp pains. A long time since she’d eaten, but she was afraid of losing him.
On to Widgie’s, more than an hour in there, then back to the apartment for a couple more hours. What was he doing in there, taking a sleep? Maybe. And what was she doing out here, waiting for him? Goofball.
Finally, early evening, he came back out again. She followed him over to Chinatown and a restaurant on the edge of the Tenderloin. Joyce Wah’s. He met two people in front. A very tall, long-haired woman, beautiful in a dark shimmer coat. And a girl wearing white jeans, brown jacket, and blinking sneakers. Fifteen or sixteen years old, Sookie thought. Tanner hugged the girl, and that made Sookie feel funny. Then they all went inside.
She waited a few minutes, then went in and ordered some food to go. Three small cartons and a pair of chopsticks. She liked eating with chopsticks, they were like funny long fingers. Sookie took the food and crossed the street. When she looked back, first at the ground floor, then up, and up again, she saw Tanner and the woman and the girl in one of the third-floor windows. The girl was sitting across from him, and they were talking to each other. Arguing, maybe. The woman didn’t seem to be talking at all, sitting back a little.
Sookie squatted down against the brick wall, opened one of the cartons, and dug in with her chopsticks. Ate and watched. She didn’t really know why she was following him. She wanted to talk to him again. The way he had kept looking at her. What was that? She wanted to ask him.
But there was something else, too. Something she wanted. She just couldn’t figure out what it was.
Sookie sat and ate and watched…and waited.
24
“WHY DID YOU stop seeing Mom?” Connie asked.
There it was, Tanner thought, the point of all this. He drank from his tea without taking his eyes off Connie, trying to decide how to answer her. Alexandra was silent, sitting back and away from them. She had offered to go somewhere else, or eat at a different table, whatever, but Connie had insisted she stay. Moral support?
Dinner itself had been relatively quiet, no one talking much. No one ate much, either. A lot of picking a
t the food, picking at conversation, both Connie and Tanner biding time. Then the meal was finished, the plates taken away, fresh tea brought to the table. And Connie asked the question.
There was not, of course, a simple answer to it. He had learned that a little over a year ago when he had tried to explain things to Valerie. Tanner wondered why Connie had waited so long to come to him with the question.
“I was afraid of hurting her,” he finally said. The statement was so broad and general that it was true to a certain extent. Tanner felt almost embarrassed at giving it as an answer.
“What do you mean?” Connie asked.
“You remember the time I broke your mother’s nose?” He felt a little sick now just thinking about it.
“You said it was an accident.”
“It was. I’d had a nightmare, and I’d come out of it swinging my fists. It wasn’t the first time I’d hurt her like that, but it was the worst.” He paused. “I didn’t want to risk doing that again to her.”
“Nightmares that bad?” Connie said.
Tanner nodded, glancing at Alexandra. She was not looking at him.
“Do you have them a lot?” Connie asked.
Tanner breathed in slowly, deeply, then gradually let it out as he shook his head. He did not like talking about this. “Not really,” he said. “Now and then. More than I’d like, though.”
Connie didn’t say anything for a minute or two. She sipped at her tea, and Tanner could see she was thinking about what he had said. She frowned, shaking her head, and set her teacup carefully on the table.
“You know, Louis,” she said, “that’s just bullshit. If that was the real problem, it’s so easy to take care of.” She stopped; hesitating, Tanner thought, to actually mention sleeping arrangements. She finally went on. “If you really loved each other, you could live with that. And you did love her, didn’t you? I know she loved you.” She paused, looked down at the table, then back up at him, defiant. “She still does. Do you?”
Jesus, Tanner thought, how was he supposed to answer that? He looked at Alexandra, who was holding her teacup without drinking from it, gazing out the window. She glanced at him, then looked away without expression. Alexandra had asked him the same questions a year ago, trying to pull answers out of him with patience and persistence. He resisted now, as he had then, and said nothing.
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