“Okay. Are we headed to the theater after this?”
“I don’t have tickets.”
She grinned then sipped her wine. “I do. They have two shows tonight and the second curtain is at eleven o’clock.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Pillow Talk has been sold out for weeks. How—”
“Never mind how I got them. I’m just happy that Harry and I finally got you to take me on a date.”
“You and Harry had this all planned?”
She grinned like a mischievous kid. “Yeah, he was the one who thought up the phony man in the parking lot.”
An hour later, I pushed away the plate with the shell of the twelve-inch lobster tail. Half way through, Lori decided she couldn’t finish hers. After the busboy cleared the dishes, Paolo filled our wine glasses. The candlelight flickered, creating highlights in her dark eyes. She had used a light hand on the make-up but I still felt drawn into them. She smiled and I bit back a grin. A tiny piece of lettuce blotched her perfect teeth. I motioned with my finger as if scraping my own teeth. She used the back of the dessert spoon as a mirror and used the corner of the napkin. I winked and toasted her with my wine, melting her embarrassed frown. We sipped in silence, just looking at one another.
Softly she asked, “So how are you going to clear Tommy of murder?”
So we would get comfortable talking about the familiar. Okay. “I need to talk to him.”
“Harry told me what Roy said. Sounds like you’re going to have to wait until after he’s convicted to question him.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Do you know much about that costume-and-uniform shop downtown?”
“Of course. I used to make trips there once a week. I have an open account.” She leaned forward so only I heard her husky words. “Some of my johns wanted me to dress in all kinds of weird shit. Is that your plan or is it time to order a Halloween costume?”
“Guess.”
Chapter 4
I stood just under the protective edge of the awning stretched over the green ground cloth and the casket. Cloudy skies and a drizzle painted the correct special effects for the solemn event. In front of me, Lori held herself stiffly erect, her attention on the Salvation Army minister. The canvas overhead swelled like a hot-air balloon then settled, shielding the small group from the weather.
The uniformed minister finished up his message of peace without judgment. Lori bent forward to take the elbow of the elderly woman in the only chair. I wondered if she had been kin to Penny.
Less than twenty others shared the crowded space. Three were obvious co-workers according to their short, tight skirts, fuck-me high heels and thick make-up. For a moment I wondered how many of the males were former johns. Of course, beside me was Harry who fell into that category.
He gently bumped my arm and motioned with his head to the far right of the mourners. Dressed in a long, filthy trench coat, a man with the street name Worm shifted from one muddy sneaker to the other. The smell of decay drifted to me. Since Penny was sealed in a coffin and down-wind, I guessed the smell came from him. The rain had pasted his ratty hair against his unshaven face and his jaw hung open showing discolored, rotting teeth. Each time he blinked he worked to force his eyes wide as if he might fall asleep, probably fighting the cheap booze in his blood stream.
His back to Worm and upper lip curled, Penny’s tall, heavy-set pimp, Fox, stood with two of his thick-armed toughs. Business looked to be good. He wore a Cipriano dark suit under an open and obviously expensive trench coat.
I edged by Harry and shook off my friend’s hand as I caught Fox’s attention. The man’s bushy Afro hair showed specks of gray. He seemed much older than I remembered from two years before.
Both of the bodyguards eased forward to block me, but he growled, “Let him by.”
I stepped to his side and turned to stand shoulder to shoulder facing Lori, the minister and the old lady beside the casket. I kept my voice low in respect for the droning minister Lori had paid. “Long time, no see, Fox.”
“How you been, Mr. Norris?”
“Fine. You?”
“Good days and bad. Lori speaks well of you. You’ve been taking good care of her.”
“Hope you don’t want her back, now that you’re down a girl.”
He smiled. The scar across his face deepened. “No, Mr. Norris. You just think of her as a gift from me. I remember after Alabama went toes up and I thought to move in, you called Lori’s cold sores herpes. Smart way of stealing a good piece of ass. She never had herpes, did she?”
“Not that I ever knew of. How’s your son doing?”
“A teacher now. Real proud of him. I feel I still owe you. A lot.”
“In that case, maybe you can help me.”
“That so? Maybe, maybe not.”
“Who killed Penny?”
Fox glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “The papers say Father Manning.”
“I’m asking you. You seemed to have the straight shit on what’s going down on the streets.”
“You got a brain, Mr. Norris. I think you’re smart enough to know you shouldn’t dig into this one. Unless, you want someone to find you dead.”
“Ah, so you agree with me. The priest didn’t kill her.”
He huffed a quick sigh. “Okay, you’re right. I wish I knew who did kill her. All I have is a name. I ain’t had time to find her, but couple of my other girls told me she calls herself Harpies. Penny makes two whores I’ve lost because of her.”
Lori had put her arms around the old woman and the minister was patting Lori on the back. I turned to face Fox. “You’re telling me a woman killed Penny?”
“Yeah. Something wrong?”
I shook my head then wiped a hand across my forehead. “I just never thought about a woman being a whore’s murderer. When was your other girl killed?”
“Couple of months ago. Just like Penny, she was shot in the head.”
“Was sex involved?”
“You mean lesbo or turf?”
“Either, I guess.”
“No. Penny and Roxanne were careful. My boys kept an eye on their tricks when they worked. They weren’t working when they bought it. I’m thinking maybe a drug deal.”
“You never talked to the cops about it?”
He rolled his eyes. “You really asking me that? If I bumped into a cop at a donut shop, I wouldn’t give him the time of day.”
The minister laid a solemn hand on the casket and bowed his head then called out a loud “Amen.”
“Harpies is an unusual name. Is it some sort of nick name?”
Fox closed his trench coat in preparation to hurry through the rain across the expanse of the old cemetery to his waiting limo. “I know nothing about her. She’s new in town. Give me some time, maybe a week or two. I’ll find out something.”
“You know how to reach me.”
“Oh yeah, but, Mr. Norris,” he bent slightly to look me in the eye, “You mind your p’s and q’s or you’re gonna get yourself killed.”
“I think I’ve learned about being careful.’
He grunted and nodded his men toward the limo.
I caught his arm. “How about doing something else for me, Fox?”
“What?”
“Lori spent a lot of money for this funeral.”
His white teeth flashed in genuine smile. “Say no more. Give me her bank account number and I’ll put it all back.”
I pulled a slip of paper from my breast pocket. “Hoped you might. Wrote her information here. But just half. I took care of the other half.”
He winked at me. “Like I said, you’re taking real good care of her.”
Harry and I returned to Lori’s side as she slid a rose into the sparse bouquet on the casket. As if tired, she slumped with her hand on the wood, just staring without seeing. Harry stepped close to her and leaned in to whisper, “Bob’s right. Father Manning didn’t kill Penny.”
Her shapely black-clad form stiffened and she turned those razor-l
ike eyes on me then simply waited.
I glanced around but we were the only three remaining under the canopy. The rain had stopped and the mourners wove their way to the far away drive and the few waiting vehicles. “Did Penny ever mention someone named Harpies?”
Lori pursed her lips then swallowed hard. “Yes. She’s some mystery bitch who’s looking for the girl who broke up her marriage. No one knows what she looks like. She snuck around in the dark, threatening the girls in alleys and stairwells. Like some vampire weirdo, she doesn’t come out in daylight. Penny talked about her right after Roxanne died. She was sure Harpies took her out. Who told you about her?”
“Fox.”
She slid her arm under mine. A fragrance drifted from her hair, similar to what Eileen wore on rainy days. Amour Parfum. We started across the wet grass toward the funeral home limo. A distance away to my left I recognized the elderly man who had shared the elevator with me at Bison.
“Lori, who’s the man standing by the angel stone?”
“Mr. Nelson. I wonder why he’s here in the middle of the day.”
“I rode with him in the elevator at Bison Insurance. Who is he?”
“He’s one of the new vice presidents. He hired on just when you turned over Henry’s place on the Board. Remember the share holders fired a lot of top people? Well, he was one of the outsiders they brought in.”
We moved slowly because of Lori’s high heels and the wet ground. I took her elbow when she stumbled. “Eventually I’ll be the only trace of Henry left at Bison. Anything else about Mr. Nelson?”
“Not really. Shit!” She pulled a heel yet again from the soaked ground then frowned. “Oh wait, he brought in Godzilla, I mean, the Godfrey bitch. I heard she’s a relative, maybe his niece.”
Looking back over my shoulder Harry whispered, “Roy just arrived. Coming up behind us.”
I turned. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“I never miss these big funerals. I get a chance to see everyone.”
“Well, you missed this one, asshole,” Lori snapped. “And everyone’s headed to their cars, so you’re just seeing their asses.”
Harry looked around then frowned, “Doesn’t showing up kinda blow your cover?”
“Harry, Harry. I wouldn’t have lasted this long if I was stupid. So far, the bad guys think I’m a drug dealer. Want to act like you’re giving me money and I pass you a baggie?” Harry flipped him off. He laughed and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “So I’ll deal with Bob here.”
I shrugged him off. “Oh, that’s nice.”
He lowered his voice. “Seriously, I saw you talking to Fox. Are you two friends now?”
I glanced at Lori’s angry face. “Maybe.”
“Let me walk with you to your car.”
Lori turned and grabbed Harry’s arm to get away from us. The two of us moved on their heels as their path wove in and out of the upright gravestones. Lori had bought the only plot she could afford, one on the very edge of the old, old cemetery. Our feet squished in the grass as we passed the water-streaked memorials.
“What do you and Fox have to talk about?”
“Nosy, aren’t you?”
“Just doing my job.”
“Maybe it’s none of your goddamn business.”
He jammed his hands in the pockets of his denim vest. “It is if Fox had something to say about Penny’s death.”
“Father Manning isn’t her killer.”
“Fox confirmed that, did he?”
“No, Penny whispered to me from the coffin.”
Roy narrowed his eyes at me. “So, who did kill her, according to Fox, anyway?”
“He doesn’t know, but I’m sure he’ll find out something.”
“You hard headed sonofabitch, you’re going to keep looking, aren’t you?”
We stopped as Harry steadied Lori whose high heel had once again sunk in the ground. She pulled off her shoes to finish the walk in just her nylons. The thought flashed that I liked her barefoot right then. Weird.
I nodded at Roy. “Yes, I think I will. Did you go to court this morning?”
“No. That’s one place I do stay away from. I called my buddy who works outside the judge’s chambers. Father Manning was bonded over to District.”
“What’s that mean?”
“He had a five hundred thousand dollar bond set and his case will go before a jury.”
“When?”
“In a month or two, whenever the District Court can get it on their schedule. And, no, you can’t see him.”
A sharp crack sounded. To our right, a man just passing Fox, slumped to his knees and fell face forward onto the damp ground. In the next breath, I was slammed forward onto the ground, my face slapping into the wet grass. Rolling over, I looked up just as Roy fired his Desert Eagle twice, the mini-explosions echoing off the nearby marble and granite headstones.
I came to my feet facing the way we had come. There was Nelson stepping into the aisle between markers, pointing a gun. I spun and dove, taking the crouching Lori all the way to the ground. The bullet’s whistle shrieked by my ear, immediately followed by Roy’s gun blast. I jerked a glance over my shoulder in time to see Nelson’s feet leave the ground with the impact of the .50 Magnum.
Gasping for breath, I looked around. “Harry, where are you?”
“Over here, behind the stone that says Gabriel.”
“You okay?”
“I might have pissed my pants. You? Lori?”
Lori bucked underneath me. “I think she’s okay.”
“Get off me, smart ass,” she mumbled then spat. “Shit! I have a mouth full of goddamn mud and grass. Off!”
I rolled to my feet and looked around at people cautiously peaking from behind monuments, trees and cars. One of Fox’s men brushed at his fancy coat while the other surveyed the area for more shooters. Roy checked his Eagle before holstering it. Harry pulled Lori to her feet.
I stared at the old man sprawled beside a headstone. “Roy, what in hell was that about?”
“You know as much as I do, but I think he was trying to get Fox.”
“Well, he missed. Fox is getting in his limo with his boys.”
Roy glanced at the darkened windows of the sleek vehicle pulling around the remaining cars. “Or maybe it was you. Bullets flew this way, too. You know the old bastard I just took out?” He stiffened, listening. “Sirens. Someone must have 911 on speed-dial. Shit! Paperwork and two-weeks of riding a desk just because I couldn’t keep my gun zipped.”
I didn’t laugh.
* * *
I opened the glass door for the young woman in the black habit. Either the lack of makeup or the white starched band across her pale, damp forehead made her appear old beyond her years. She held her hands properly tucked under the scapular draped down the front. At her back, the long veil flowed over the folds of the religious uniform. I could not understand why a church forced twelfth-century clothing onto a person, unless it was some kind of punishment. Of course, the clothing wasn’t meant to show off the beauty in a woman’s form or face, but this one had to be over-heated under all that cloth in the summer day’s sweltering temperatures. No wonder most nuns were foul-tempered.
I sympathized because my black suit and white collared shirt insulated my own body heat. My arm pits and back were sweat-soaked. I would have suffered more if I hadn’t endured the short haircut and close-cropped beard styling. As we stepped into the lobby of the correction facility, I sighed with relief when the air-conditioning dropped the air temperature twenty degrees.
Glancing at the nun beside me, I whispered, “Lori, you look a little pale. You feel okay?”
“Goddamn hot is what I am. And the name’s Sister Mary Catherine, Father Dumb Ass.” She smiled too sweetly as I frowned back and ran a finger around my choking collar.
Approaching the barred Plexiglas window, I spoke through the round hole to the officer watching us, “I’m Father . . . Dominic Assini and this is Sister Mary Catherine. We�
��re here to see Father Thomas Manning.”
The blue-uniformed, dark haired female at the desk, flipped through the papers on a clipboard. “I don’t see your names on the visitor’s list. I’ll have to call the supervisor. Please have a seat.”
Twenty minutes passed before our fake names echoed from the public address system. Preoccupied in our own thoughts, neither Lori nor I immediately responded to our fictitious names. The guard knocked on the window and thumbed us toward a door. It clicked as we approached.
I held open the heavy steel door for Lori to enter first. We walked a long, sterile hallway toward the arch of a metal detector. Since Lori’s beads and crucifix were wooden and I had no keys due to our taxi ride, neither of us set off the alarm. We continued following the yellow arrows taped on the floor.
I whispered, “Watch your feet just in case Toto took a shit.”
“Careful, ah, Father, since big brother might be listening. Who the hell is Toto?”
“You never saw the Wizard of Oz?”
“Nope. There’s big brother.” She pointed to a camera on the ceiling.
“Like in George Orwell’s book, eh?”
“Who?”
“Nineteen Eighty-Four?”
“Never read it.”
We turned a corner finding an open area where a long bench-like table split the room in half. A glass partition over the counter separated the two halves. Phones had been mounted in the partition with a floor-anchored chair before each phone. We each took a seat.
Moments later, a door on the other side opened. A guard stepped into the room followed by Father Manning. His pinched face looked stressed and, overall, he seemed shrunken without his collar and wearing an orange jumpsuit. Frowning at us, he took a seat facing me. He picked up his phone as I did on my side. After glancing at Lori, he focused on me. “I-I am sorry, Father, I don’t recall knowing you.”
Thinking about “big brother” I responded, “We met briefly. Do you remember Ann Piston’s birthday party?”
He stared harder through the glass, then blinked as I raised a finger to tap my lips as if by habit. “You’re . . . Oh! Why, yes I do remember now.”
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