He told her so as he watched her undress.
She lay back, naked, on the stained mattress. “Yeah, lover, I’m a real Material Girl. Say, you could use a shower.”
“I don’t want a shower,” he said, removing his shirt.
“Uh-huh.Well, then, I get hardship pay.That’ll be seventy for the trip, lover.”
“Okay,” Ace said glumly. He slid out of his pants and wondered if he could afford dinner.
She gestured at his crotch. “What’s the matter, hon? Don’t like what you see?” She jiggled her breasts and smiled.
He sat on the edge of the bed, not touching her. “I got a lot on my mind. Sorry.”
“Shit. I get paid anyway, you know. You pay up whether or not you get interested, okay?”
“I got nobody to talk to,” Ace whined.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She pulled a stick of gum out of her bag but didn’t offer him any.
“Only one person in the world I can talk to. I love her. She wants to kill me, though.”
“I know how she feels,” the whore said matter-of-factly.
Ace watched a roach climbing the filthy wall. “I can’t live without her. She’s a goddess.What the fuck can I do?” A tear started down his face.
“Oh, Jesus. So she’s a goddess? She any good in bed?”
“She’s crazy,”Ace said. “I thought I was out there on the edge. She scares the shit out of me.”
The door splintered open and crashed against the wall. Jackie Why stood in the threshold.Water dripped from the brim of his white Borsolino.The ember at the end of his cigarette glowed furnace red.
“What, what, what?” Ace spluttered.
The whore screamed and covered her breasts.
“Hey, shit-for-brains,” Jackie Why said. “You owe me four bills. It’s collection time.”
Ace and the whore scrambled into their clothes as Jackie Why laughed at them. She eased past Jackie Why and ran down the stairs.
“You come all the way from the city to get a lousy four hundred?” Ace said, his mind whirring to come up with a peace plan. “That’s chump change for you, Jackie.”
“I had nothing better to do,” Jackie Why said. “Give me the money, and maybe I won’t kill your sorry ass.”
“I don’t got it,” Ace said. “I mean, I got maybe seventy-five. But I ain’t got no four hundred.”
Jackie Why took a huge drag on his cigarette. “You been spending your money — which is my money — in the wrong places, my man. How much did it cost you to fuck that little butterball?”
“Nothing,” Ace said. “I didn’t fuck her yet. Hey, I can pay you back. Honest. I need a little time.”
“You don’t got no more time,” Jackie Why said. He unbuttoned his leather jacket. He wore his gun in a holster on his left hip.The butt pointed frontward.
Ace started to hyperventilate. “Please, Jackie. Please give me a chance.”
Jackie Why pulled the cigarette from his lips and, grinning widely, jammed it against Ace’s forehead.
Ace hollered as his flesh sizzled.
Then Big John suddenly appeared behind Jackie. He grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. Ace scuttled backward behind the bed. He thought he saw Big John reach for Jackie’s gun. He ducked his head and could only hear the scuffle until the gun went off.
Torn between hiding his face and desperately wanting to know the outcome, Ace burrowed down for another full minute of silence and then gingerly peered over the edge of the bed. He saw Big John standing over Jackie. Ace couldn’t tell if Jackie was alive or dead, but as he watched, Big John shoved the gun up against the pimp’s chin and pulled the trigger.The pimp’s Borsolino blew off his head in a fountain of blood and brains.
Ace, stunned, watched in silence. Eventually, Big John looked at him. Numbly, Ace clambered to his feet and staggered toward the door, skirting Jackie Why’s sprawled body in awe and wonder. A crimson lake was growing around the pimp’s mangled skull.
Big John tossed the gun at him and Ace caught it awkwardly. “You stupid little turd. Christ almighty.”
“I’m sorry,” Ace babbled inanely. “I didn’t mean to.”
“You’re dead fucking meat, is what you are,” Big John said. “Now get the fuck out of here. I’ll clean this here up.” He rummaged in his pocket and shoved a fistful of bills at Ace. “Go on. Get back to the city. Where you belong.”
A light seemed to go on again in Ace’s eyes. “Where I belong,” he tittered excitedly, thinking of Nita.
SIXTEEN
Dave was sitting in his unmarked car in the rain, staring at the West Side Crisis Center, when Megan charged out of the door.
As she ran past, her face wild with rain and tears, Dave sprang from the car and grabbed her. He crushed her to him.
She fought his arms for a minute until she realized it was him. Then she sobbed against his shoulder.
“We’re getting wet,” he said as he held her. “Let’s get in the car.”
He led her, like a child, into the car. Inside, with the storm pounding on the roof, she cried harder.
“Nita?” Dave asked gently.
Megan nodded, just once.
“What happened?”
Megan shook her head, took out a Kleenex, and blew her nose.
“Was it about me, by any chance?”
“Yes,” Megan said, hiccupping against her sobs.
“Did she ask you to choose between us?”
“Can we do something? Drive around?”
“Sure.” Dave fired up the engine, called in on the radio that he was changing locations, and eased through the cascading downpour. “Anywhere in particular?”
“No,” Megan almost whispered.
By its own instinct, the car found itself rolling over the bridge into Queens. The Dillon house, identical to all those to either side, had a damp bleakness.
“Come on in,” Dave said. “There’s someone I want you to meet.” He smiled encouragement.
“Oh, God. I look terrible,” Megan said. “My make-up —”
“You look beautiful,” Dave said. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world today. Or any other day.”
He took her hand, and led her into the house.
His mother sat beneath a shawl, a trashy paperback on her lap. She didn’t smile or move.
“This is Megan Morrison,” Dave said. “I told you about her. I decided that, well, you two should meet.”
Megan summoned up a smile and shook the old lady’s reluctant and brittle hand. “I’m so pleased to meet you, Mrs. Dillon. Dave has told me a lot about his childhood and this house and you and everything, that, I . . . uh . . . am delighted to be here.” Aware she was babbling, Megan subsided nervously.
“Good to have you,” his mother said shortly with a saccharine smile. Then to Dave, “I’m getting tired. Could you help me into the bedroom before you make your friend some tea?”
As he eased his mother to her feet, the old woman said, “The Conlon wake is tomorrow night. So quick.”
“I know,” Dave agreed. “I got them to release Jimmy’s body early from the medical examiner’s. Usually, in a homicide — Well.” He didn’t want to talk about that.
Dave shrugged at Megan apologetically and escorted his mother slowly along a creaking passage to the bedroom.
In the bedroom, his mother regained her strength suddenly. She held his arm and shook her head. “Get rid of that one. She’s no good. I know a bad girl when I see one.”
“Ma, that’s silly. Megan’s a sweet girl.” Dave was caught totally off balance.
“Your father went wrong because of a bad woman. I can sniff them.”
“Ma, I’m not going to discuss this with you,” Dave said, beginning to be angry. “I’ll take you to the wake tomorrow. Goodbye.”
“I can sniff them,” she said with a hiss. He practically had to pry her hand off his arm.
Running out to the car, Megan said mournfully, “Your mother hates me.”
“S
he’s just hard to warm up to. It takes a while. She’ll be okay.”
As the row houses slid past the car windows, Megan said, “Nita went off the deep end when I told her about us. She smashed her fish tank. She loved those fish.”
They rode in silence into Manhattan. Megan asked to be dropped off at the crisis center.They made plans to meet that night.
She kissed him briefly but with the promise of passion, and he watched her hurry into the building.The rain seemed to be letting up.
Before Dave could pull away, he noticed Nita go past, wearing no raincoat, carrying no umbrella, soaked. She had been someplace else and was headed for the crisis center, as well.
On an impulse, Dave leaned out the window and called her name. At the sight of him, Nita’s lip curled. “The great lover himself,” she said. “Enjoying your latest conquest, Dillon?”
“You don’t need to talk like that to me.”
“Why not?” Nita taunted. “Is there a law against it? Are you going to arrest me? Take me back to the precinct and book me, so I can listen to you brag to your buddies what a great lover you are.”
“What do you know about love?”
“That it’s a foolish illusion.” The rain made Nita’s hair hang in ropes about her face. She laughed without mirth and a little too long. “You’re trying to make me lose control, aren’t you, Detective Dillon? Aren’t you?”
“Control of what? Of Megan?”
“You’re not going to do it, Detective Dillon. Oh, no. I swear that to you.”
“Lady,” Dave snapped, “the only things you control are your fish. Or should that be past tense?”
Nita opened her mouth to reply but didn’t. She was clearly stunned by Dave’s remark. She turned and walked into the building.
•••
Ace cruised along the Deuce in Jackie Why’s Mercedes. Aside from the bills that Big John had given him, Ace carried Jackie Why’s fat billfold in his pocket and Jackie Why’s gun in Jackie Why’s holster on his hip, hidden by Jackie Why’s own leather jacket.There were only a few flecks of blood on the jacket. The gun rode on the left hip, butt forward, just as Jackie Why himself had worn it.
The rain had subsided to a spattering. Ace had the windshield wipers on intermittent.They swiped the glass clean at their own occasional pace, like a sudden and unexpected twist of good luck.
Spotting Falstaff, who had come out to panhandle now that the rain was ending,Ace slid the Mercedes up to the curb. “Hey, my man,” he called to the wino, “you want a ride?”
Falstaff’s beard bristled in surprise. “Odds bodkins. Is that you, Ace?”
“I’m coming up in the world. And I’m back in town on serious, big-time business.”
“Per chance, is that Jackie Why’s car you’re driving?”
“Damn straight,” Ace said with a bright grin. “I killed him. I shot his ass. He came out to New Jersey, which is my turf. And the fucker died for it. Well, guess what? The Deuce is my turf now. Hell, the whole fucking city is my turf.” He cackled in glee.
“Stone the crows,” Falstaff said in genuine amazement. Then he seemed to get an idea. “That being the case, would you be kind enough to part with some change?”
“Change?”Ace rummaged in his pocket and produced Jackie Why’s bulging wallet. He peeled off two twenties. “Here you go.Time to get gooned out of your mind.”
Falstaff accepted the money in lip-smacking appreciation. “Bless you, good sir. My first drink, I’ll raise the bottle to you. Then, I’ll toast the late, great Jackie Why.”
Ace’s smile vanished and his face slid into a dangerous frown. “You don’t believe I popped him, do you?”
“Ace, drunkards are God’s innocents. We believe all. If you say you dispatched Jackie Why to his reward, it is as good as true.”
Ace pulled out the gun and pointed it at Falstaff. “I popped him with this fucking piece, you sack of shit.”
Falstaff held up his hands, the bills clasped between thumb and index finger. “I believe, I believe. Sirrah.”
Lowering the weapon, Ace said, “Good. Lots of people don’t believe me. Before the day’s out, they sure as shit are going to. Hear me?”
“Perfectly, perfectly.Yes indeed.”
Ace nodded and drove on. He parked the Mercedes in front of the Foxy Lady. Tony Topnut, standing at the front door in a Hawaiian shirt that pictured hula girls giving fellatio to elongated pineapples, grabbed Ace by the shoulder.
Ace jerked away from him and drew the skirt of his jacket back to reveal the holstered gun. “Hands off, you fat turdball.”
Tony ignored the gun and shook his prey until his teeth rattled. “Where’s my fucking two hundred, you fuckhead?”
“Keep it in your pants.”Ace pulled away and slid out Jackie Why’s billfold. He counted out the money. “I got money and I want a drink.”
“Fuck,”Tony Topnut said, pocketing the bills. “Go on in.”
Ace swaggered in, barely limping now.
At the bar, he laid out some bills. “Scotch. And none of that watered-down piss you serve.”
Finesse sidled up. “Well, if it ain’t Mr. Dude. Where’d you get that bodacious jacket?”
“Popped Jackie Why for it.” The bartender put Ace’s drink in front of him. Ace took a slug.
“Mmmm-mmmm-mmmm.You are one crazy motherfucker.”
“Give this black bastard what he wants.”
Finesse cocked an eyebrow and ordered a Manhattan. “And after that, my friend here’s gonna buy me the Bronx and Staten Island, too.”
“Friend, shit.You don’t like me.”
“Nobody likes you,” Finesse said. “So, you living large now. Considering that the police want you for questioning and that Jackie Why wants you for four hundred semolians, that’s a good idea. Where’d you get the money again?”
Ace bared his teeth and snarled, “I fucking told you. Don’t you listen, you black bastard?”
Finesse, unperturbed by the outburst, accepted the Manhattan from the bartender and took a sip. “My, my, my. You are the racialsensitivity poster boy today. What brings you back to town? NAACP meeting?”
Angry, Ace dismounted his barstool. “I’m going to straighten it out with my woman.The only person who ever cared about me.”
Finesse savored another sip of Manhattan. “A woman? Let me guess. She’s deaf and blind. And she lost her sense of smell.”
Ace smacked the glass out of Finesse’s hand and screamed, “Damn you.”
He yanked out the gun. “Talk about her like you done, and I’ll kill you.”
Finesse edged away, bumping into the stools. “I didn’t mean nothing. Hey, brother, be cool.”
Tony Topnut flung the door of the bar open and Ace saw the wrecker hoisting the Mercedes outside the bar’s front door.
Ace ran toward the door. “Put that down,” he yelled, waving the gun.
Tony flung his bulk forward and managed to bearhug Ace from behind, locking his scrawny arms to his sides, the gun pointed at the floor. “Give it up, you little scumbag,” he shouted in Ace’s ear.
Ace, squealing in pain, accidentally pulled the trigger.The bullet ripped through Tony Topnut’s shin. The bar owner howled, dropped Ace, and fell to the floor. He held his bloody leg, wailing. His bladder let go and his urine formed a puddle that spread faster than the blood that oozed from his shin.
“Holy shit,” Ace yelped and backed away, knocking over two chairs before he turned and ran out the back door.
The eternal day finally over, Nita headed back to her apartment. She had to get out of there, give herself some respite before the hotline shift began.Tim was on with her tonight, which was annoying. In fact, everyone in the center was annoying. Dr. Solomon had approached her and asked if she wanted to chat. Her vehement “no” had sent him back to his office refuge, not to be seen the rest of the day.
No one else dared to talk to her. Megan stayed away and kept her back to Nita. Just as well. Megan’s simpering concern was more than
Nita could stand. Fortunately, someone had cleaned up the mess from the shattered fish tank.
Nita paced along the drying sidewalk, her attention focused immediately in front of her. The cracks and stains and oily puddles of the concrete stood out like the world’s imperfections. She had to get a grip. Control.Where had it fled? She wanted to smash anything in her way. Simply destroy it. The hell with cool planning. She was making too many mistakes. She had to get back her control.
She needed a plan.To deal with Ace. With Megan. With Dillon. She wished she could smash Dillon. How dare he presume to judge her? She visualized his empty cop head lying in a spreading pool of blood. Like Jimmy Conlon’s. Yet a plan wouldn’t come to her. The sidewalk unrolled its ugliness beneath her feet.
Almost home, she heard footsteps behind her. Gripping the .45 inside her bag, once more she whirled around.
There was nothing there.
At home, she ripped off her clothes, left them carelessly in a heap on the floor, and turned on the shower as hot as it would go.The scalding, thudding water punished her skin. At last, when she could take it no longer, she shut off the shower. She was panting.
Slowly, Nita patted her reddened body dry with a towel. The shower restored her to life. Pain cleansed. She blow-dried her hair and slipped into fresh clothes — a light sweater and leggings.
She had the feeling something would happen tonight. The air, breathless from the rain, had that expectant quality. Well, let them throw the worst at her. She was ready. She checked the action on her .45 to assure herself that it fed rounds smartly into the chamber. Control. She was getting it back.
Then she noticed the fish tank. What was wrong with the fish? She squinted toward the bright stillness, remembering that she hadn’t fed the fish for — How long? In dread, she tiptoed past her desk with its silent computer, to the tank.
Only the large blue fish was alive. A few scales and fins from the others were floating in the murky water.The blue fish, eyes wide as it stared at Nita, had the guilty look of the reluctant cannibal.
Nita looked at the acquarium. Somewhere deep inside her a bubble of pure rage swelled. She began to scream at the blue fish, her voice rising to a shriek of frustration and fury. She screamed and screamed.
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