Ladykiller

by Lawrence Light

  Then Dave got up to put the steaks in the broiler and toss the salad. Megan wandered about his apartment, impressed by its neatness and the solid, manly but tasteful furniture.

  She went into the wrong room.

  “Jesus,” Megan said, spilling her wine. She stumbled back out holding her hand to her mouth.

  Dave rushed to her side and held her shoulders. “God, I’m sorry,” he said.“I forgot to take the pictures down. They’re a part of my life now, and well —”

  “It’s so gruesome. And poor Reuben. My God.”

  “I told you that I — Well — Why don’t you sit down? I’ll get you more wine.”

  “Where’s the bathroom?” she asked in a choked voice.

  He pointed, and Megan ran inside, shutting the door after her. Dave poured more wine and watched the door, troubled. He shouldn’t have left the pictures up but he hadn’t figured her for quite so squeamish.

  When she emerged, her pallor was corpse-like. “I’m okay,” she said weakly. “I’d better go.”

  “Please stay,” Dave begged. “Let me take care of you.”

  “I need to make a phone call.” Megan picked up the phone and stabbed out a number. No one answered and she hung up.

  “That was to Nita, wasn’t it?” Dave said.

  “She wasn’t home. She’s doing the hotline later tonight. I’d feel better if I talked to her.”

  “You’re so very loyal, aren’t you?” Dave blurted angrily, and instantly wished he had shut up.

  The color came back to Megan’s cheeks at the mention of her friend’s name. “Absolutely. She cares about me. Why, do you have a problem with that?”

  Dave knew he should be conciliatory, yet some gremlin inside kept driving him on. “Cares about you. Like Robin Tolner, your professor?”

  “What?”

  “I did some checking on the crisis center staff.”

  “Dr.Tolner was my adviser,” Megan said.

  “And your lover.”

  “Checking on the staff? More like snooping. My relationship with Robin is none of your business.”

  “I was curious what was behind your obsessive relationship with Nita. I guess you always get hung up on your mentor, don’t you, Megan?”

  “Don’t play amateur psychologist.You’re no good at it.” Megan shook her head. “I don’t believe this. I’m proud that Nita takes so much time with me. I’ve learned a lot from her.”

  “Is that why you don’t make a move without consulting her?”

  “Who are you to point a finger at me? You, the one who had a hooker for a girlfriend.You who killed her pimp out of jealousy.Who do you think you are?” Megan stormed past Dave and out the door.

  The cat, no fool, had gone into hiding.

  With deadline over, Jimmy Conlon worked the phones. The newsroom, a cavernous expanse of computers and well-clipped heads, had hunkered down to an early-evening buzz. It would be at least an hour before Jimmy’s story went through the copydesk. Tonight’s effort, which would appear in the next morning’s paper, wasn’t spectacular: a recounting of the pressure on the police to catch the Ladykiller, now that Ace Cronen had proved to be inconveniently innocent. But his story last night, about police doubts of Ace’s guilt, had set the city afire today.

  Chip, resplendent in his power tie, summoned Jimmy over to the city desk with an imperious wave of the hand. He gestured disparagingly at Jimmy’s story, which was gracing his computer screen. “Can’t you do any better than this, Conlon?”

  “Chip, I’m glad you’re reading my stories. Did you, by chance, happen to read the one in today’s paper?”

  “Conlon, a story like that was overdue from you. To me, it only illustrated how far behind you’ve been on the Ladykiller beat.”

  “Chip, while I realize I should have solved the case by now for the cops, could you please show me who else in this city has beaten me on Ladykiller stories?

  “That’s not the point, Conlon —”

  “No, the facts are never the point, Chip.”

  “What is the point, Conlon,” Chip said, “is that we’re giving Laird Caruthers the job as lead reporter on the Ladykiller story. We need someone a little more aggressive.”

  Jimmy felt as though someone was shoving a glacier down his throat. “Laird Caruthers? You mean, your younger brother’s roommate at Andover?”

  “I mean, someone who can deliver. We’ll allow you to backstop him, doing sidebars and day-to-day routine stuff. I expect you to give him access to all your sources.”

  Jimmy wanted to say much. His mouth no longer worked.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Chip said, “I have a dinner engagement.”

  Jimmy watched him sling his suit jacket jauntily over his shoulder and cross the newsroom to the managing editor’s office.The managing editor stood there talking to Laird Caruthers. The three of them headed off for dinner.

  Dave cooked the two steaks, regardless. Maybe Megan would return. Or maybe, he figured, he would recover his appetite and then some. He piled the steaks onto one plate and plunked it on the table.

  “Is steak good for you?” he asked the cat.

  The cat replied by about-facing and showing him its ass. The buzzer went off.Without using the intercom, he pushed the

  button to let his visitor in the front door below. He mentally timed how long it would take her to ride the elevator.And when his doorbell rang, he threw the door open.

  To Jamie. She wore a marvelous clingy blouse, pleated pants, and carried a bottle of wine.

  Dave blinked. “What are you doing here?”

  “Nice greeting. I’m dropping by.You busy?”

  “No, I was just fixing dinner and — Come on in.You hungry?”

  “You always set your table for two with flowers and a candle?” She swept by him in a cloud of sexy perfume.

  “Every day.” He watched her put the wine on the table, circle the room, taking in the posters and bookshelves, ducking her head into the kitchen.

  “You know,” he told her when she came back to him, “I’m really glad to see you.” He was surprised to find that he meant it.

  Jamie gave him a dazzling smile, a quick peck on the cheek, and a squeeze of the hand.

  “Let’s eat.”

  They had a pleasant meal, ate the food, drank the wine, talked, and laughed. Dave felt much better. The only work talk was Jamie’s recitation about her findings in the crisis center files: nothing. They quickly moved on to other subjects.

  After dinner, he poured two glasses of good port. When he sat down on the couch, Jamie surprised him by sitting down close to him. Very close.

  “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “I, well —”

  She set aside her glass and kissed him. He let himself open his lips. Her mouth moved against his, gentle but hungry. He could lose himself in a kiss like this.

  But a few moments later, he broke from her and eased away from her down the couch.

  “Jamie, I can’t.”

  “What’s the matter, Dave?”

  “You’re extremely attractive. I like you, but I can’t.” “Talk to me.”

  “Megan was here a while ago.We had a fight and she left. I’m just incredibly hung up on her. I can’t help it.”

  Jamie compressed her lips and got up. Dave looked up at her unhappily, but did not ask her to stay. She picked up her purse and stood looking down at him.

  “Is she good for you, Dave? Will she give you what you need?”

  “I don’t know. I think so,” Dave said helplessly, sounding less than convinced.

  “God help you, my love.”

  When Ace met Billy Ray outside the Foxy Lady, where midnight’s bone-crunching music refused to end, he had one question for the big man:“You packing?”

  “What?” Billy Ray cupped his ear over the racket. The later the hour, the louder Tony Topnut turned up the music out on the sidewalk to attract roaming wastrels too far gone to discriminate between rotten and bad.

  “Y
ou packing? You armed?”

  “Fuck no.” Billy Ray guffawed. “Cops took my .45 same as they took yours. I don’t need no gun to go meet some pussy.”

  “I told you. She’s nuts. She’s got one. She can use it, too.”

  “Can’t tell you how scared I am. I’m shaking like a fucking leaf.” Billy Ray punched Ace’s shoulder hard enough to make him stagger. “Let’s move out. Show me this girl who got you so scared.”

  As they walked away from the Deuce, the streets took on a graveyard quiet.Ace wished he had Billy Ray’s bravado.Ace’s lips were dry. A manic butterfly was trapped in his throat.The only people they passed on the street were solitary and spectral.

  “This lady,” Ace said nervously, “she’s something else.”

  Their shift over, the hotline torments of the late hours dealt with, Nita and Tim finished their logbooks.

  Tim broke into a chorus of Paul Simon’s “Still Crazy After All These Years.” He giggled. “This guy called who said his pee-pee was missing. I asked him where it went. He said the cat took it. I suggested he get some catnip.To ransom it.”

  Nita didn’t respond. “You’re tired. Go home and get some sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

  “Walk home?”

  “No, thanks. I have to stay here for a while and catch up on the paperwork.”

  “No, I meant, walk me home,”Tim said. “This time of night I get scared.” He giggled some more.

  Nita waited a few minutes after Tim slammed the front door. Sweeney was deeply asleep, sitting in a chair tipped back.

  Midway down the stairs, she took the .45 out of her bag and checked the action.

  Tailing Ace in the night was not what Safir and Wise had in mind as sweet duty.

  “Where they going?”Wise asked.

  “They’re crossing that parking lot,” Safir said.

  “Shit. If we follow them across they’ll make us.”

  “No sweat. Hang back a bit.”

  “We could radio for somebody till we can close the distance.”

  “And have some snot-nosed uniform ragging us that we can’t do a tail by ourselves? I ain’t ready for that tonight.”

  Wise considered the alternative. “At least they aren’t moving fast.When it’s our turn to cross the lot, let’s not run, okay?” His new Florsheims felt like iron. “Not tonight.”

  Safir peered at Ace’s and Billy Ray’s departing backs. “This is where the Ladykiller iced the hooker.”

  “Yeah. One of my favorite tourist spots.”

  As soon as Ace and Billy Ray disappeared, the two detectives marched across the lot. When they got to the other side, they had a dilemma.

  “Fucking A,” Safir said. “Where did they go?”

  • • •

  “There she is,” Ace said. Nita, a shadow under the faint stars, was locking the heavy metal door to the crisis center.

  “Hey, ain’t this the psycho house you go to?” Billy Ray said. “And ain’t that the gorgeous piece of pussy what was on the news after they arrested your sorry ass? She was talking about this here loony bin and how it took care of sorry fuckers like you.”

  Ace gave him a look, but prudently did not say anything.

  Billy Ray did not notice the look in the dark. “But I’ll tell you this.You’re right about one thing. She’s a walking wet dream.”

  “Let me alone with her,” Ace said. “You stay here.”

  “Fuck no. I want to meet me this little lady.” Billy Ray hitched up his pants.

  “Please give me a minute, Billy Ray. I’ll pay you a hundred.”

  “You ain’t good for no hundred.”

  “Please.”

  “You pathetic sack of shit.” Billy Ray said disgustedly. “Go talk to the bitch. But then I get introduced.”

  Ace climbed out of the dense purple umbra and into the uncertain light of the street. He wished he had drunk more. But his throat was so tight that he doubted he could force one more drop down.

  “Good evening,” he said to her, trying for debonair. The result was more like strangled chicken.

  “Walk with me,” she said, all business.

  They walked in silence.

  “Have you ever followed me?” she asked.

  “Me?”

  “Like this afternoon on the street.Was that you, Ace? Was it?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Can we talk about important stuff? Can we —?”

  “In a moment. Did you mention me to the police?”

  “What? You kidding? Me?”

  “If you did, Ace,” she said, “I’ll find out. I’ll know.”

  “No. Never. I’d never betray you.”

  “Good.That’s good, Ace.You realize you let me down?”

  “It ain’t my fault,” he whined. “Honest. I tried.”

  They reached the playground, whose slides and jungle gyms were weird, otherworldly shapes in the pit-deep night.

  “Ace, sit on the end of that slide.”

  He did as bidden. “Shit, a slide,” he said with nervous laughter. “I never had no slide when I was a kid.”

  “I’m glad you’re having fun, now,” Nita said. She reached in her handbag.

  The constellations above threw a glint off her gun.

  “Oh, no,” Ace exclaimed, frozen to the spot. “Hey, wait. I love you. Please.”

  “It’s necessary, Ace,” she said. “The truth is I don’t need you anymore. Sorry.” She aimed carefully.

  “Hey! What the fuck you doing, lady?” Billy Ray bellowed from the edge of the playground.

  Nita turned her gun in the direction of the outburst. Ace used the opportunity to scramble off the slide and rat-run amid the equipment.

  She fired at his flitting shadow. Missed. Then she couldn’t see him.

  She ran after Ace toward the street, where she heard a scurry of boots racing into the sanctuary of the night.

  TWELVE

  Dave’s words echoed cruelly through Megan’s mind all night, spoiling her sleep, and into the day, distracting her.When she bought coffee at the doughnut shop, she forgot to scoop up her change.

  “Troubles, Megan?” asked the kindly old storekeeper after he’d called her back.

  “Sorry,” she murmured and picked up the coins.

  She went back to her apartment and tried to read the paper. But the news columns were an inky jumble. The coffee cooled, untouched, as she stared through the newsprint and into the past.

  Megan wished she had close friends to talk to. Or a mother. Or even a father. Both her parents were dead. And her old friends, the ones to whom secrets should be told, were years gone — married or in business school or law school, none of them near New York. What was she supposed to do? Pick up the phone and say, “Hi, remember me? My life is falling apart.”

  She shook her head ruefully. She only had one friend, but she realized she couldn’t talk to Nita about this.

  When she was younger, Megan expected that the coming years would make her more assertive and that her success was assured. She would be able to carve a career, a marriage, a family, and a boatload of happiness out of the future’s glittering raw material.

  Maybe she still expected that. Megan had obsessed about Dave and Nita all night.And now, thoughts of Robin kept assaulting her. She remembered sitting in his study, pretending to be reading her textbooks, and watching him write. He had seemed to glow, iridescent.

  How could she have been so stupid? So blind? And was she doing it again?

  She wanted Dave with a kind of physical craving. She also felt the kind of romantic longing for him that she had felt for Robin. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to swoon in his arms or fuck him — hard.

  She shook her head violently, laughing bitterly at her own distress. No. Enough. Maybe a walk would do her good.

  She emerged into the day and noticed what she hadn’t on her earlier coffee foray: How wonderfully spring-like the weather was. Then, as she strolled along, she noticed how many couples were out
and about, holding hands, kissing. She resolutely suppressed a pang of envy and shook her head to clear it.

  She marveled at how different her neighborhood was during the day, when the sunshine rendered it benign. She looked around with pleasure and the bounce came back into her walk.

  She was smiling at a dog walker who had eight dogs of various sizes and breeds on leashes and was bopping along briskly, his charges well behaved and in perfect harmony, when she thought of Dave’s cat. Why was it that every thought seemed to lead her back to him?

  Then she heard her name.

  Dave pulled up alongside her in his unmarked car. He was doing his best at a welcoming smile. Her heart skipped a beat.

  “I’m sorry for what I said last night.”

  “Me too.”

  Without a word, Dave let Megan take the lead. He trailed her into the Cristides’ coffee shop.They sat down at a small table.

  Lucy Cristides’ mother stalked over to them. “What you want?” she fairly snarled at Dave.

  “Two gyros,” Megan said. “And two Cokes.”

  Mrs. Cristides nodded tersely and left.

  “You do the ordering often?” Dave said.

  “Today I do.” When the woman returned with the sodas, Megan said, “Let me ask you one question before we eat, and we’ll leave you alone.”

  Mrs. Cristides sighed. “What you want?”

  “The food here, I’ll bet, is great.”

  “Is good. So what?”

  “About Lucy,” Megan said. “Did she like to eat this food?”

  “Sometimes.” The woman appeared to be warring with herself whether to walk away or stay.

  “I understand she was pretty thin,” Megan said.

  “You want me to say bad things about my daughter, my Lucy? That what you want?” Mrs. Cristides wasn’t belligerent now, but softer, even sorrowful.

  “Tell me what bothered her,” Megan said. “Tell me that, and we’ll catch the man who killed her.”

  Her husband came out of the back and said, “Gina?”

  His wife waved him away. “My Lucy —” She wiped a tear that had tumbled down her cheek. She pulled herself together with a visible effort. “My husband and I make people food. Sometimes Lucy served the food here for us. On weekends a lot, when we were very busy.”