by Adam Connell
Calder parallel-parked and turned off the ignition.
Rook woke up, looked around. “We in the city?”
“Majella left, I pursued.”
“All by yourself.”
“You weren’t much help,” Calder said.
Rook stared at the hotel, its ornate black awning. The revolving doors, the red carpet stairs leading up to them. And between, street level, what looked like a bronze jukebox. Guests coming, going. The liveried porters with shoes so heavily polished they gave off a reflection could blind flying pigeons.
“In there?” Rook said.
Calder nodded, his hands white on the steering wheel as if there was to be an imminent chase.
“Gotta pee again, goddam it,” Rook said.
“Not in the cup again.”
“I’ll go find someplace.”
“And don’t bring back anything to drink.”
Rook was gone twenty minutes.
“A lot of traffic on the way over?” Rook said when he returned.
“You care? You slept through it all.”
“A hangover’s a serious medical condition.”
“He’s still in there, ’less there’s a back entrance.”
“Went in the front?” Rook said.
“Yeah.”
“He’ll come out the front,” Rook said. “This is good, I got a feeling. Doesn’t no one go to a hotel in their own town unless it’s for something they wanna hide.”
They sat without a word for an hour. Rook slept some more, snoring, his head against the side window like he was on a long train ride. The church catty-corner to the hotel was having its facade pressure-washed by a team of men with orange hoses. Wet grey rind came off and clotted the sidewalk.
“I should scold you for being with the Queen last night,” Rook said. He was awake but sluggish.
“So scold me,” Calder said.
“You stayed at?”
“Her place.”
“And you talked about?”
“You’re not interested and I’m not feeling any need to repeat it.”
“I’m not interested. We been sitting here for hours and I can’t listen to that radio anymore. Turn it off.”
Calder did. “What do you want to know? She asked how my job was going.”
Rook had on a huge grin. “What is it you do?”
“I’m a hospital barber.”
“What?” he said, laughing. “They even have those nowadays? Told her you go around ICUs cutting hair?”
“People don’t think about it. They need their hair cut, some are kept there a long time. Comas, especially.”
“That is so asinine it sounds real.”
“Go ahead,” Calder said, “ask someone who doesn’t work in a hospital, is it true. It’s a good cover cause no one considers it. I’m in a new city, looking for hospitals new to me — ”
Rook chuckled.
“She felt guilty she hadn’t asked me sooner, was I making progress,” Calder said.
“Fucking barber. Least you didn’t tell her hairdresser. Can you cut hair?”
“I worked in enough funeral homes.”
“This is fucking hilarious. You give her a rinse and a blow-dry?”
“Laugh. There was a long time I couldn’t be around people.”
“Living people,” Rook said. “I could use a little off the sides. I like it high-and-tight. You do high-and-tight?”
Calder said, “Guy doesn’t always die, he’s got perfect hair way he wants it to be buried in. Ladies. Ladies especially. I’d get a photo and copy it.” Calder waited, then, “I was at Tattletail last night.”
“To see her dance? Did you catch the Winged Lady? No offense, but that’s the reason to go.”
“I was curious about Faraday.” He wasn’t sure why he was confessing this. Could be he felt the need to prove his daring, that’s what it seemed like to me.
“You talk to him?” Rook said.
“Came over to talk to me. He knew who I was.”
Calder wondered if Rook was impressed; Rook was, but didn’t let on.
“I can guess what he thought of you,” Rook said. “What’d you think of him?”
“He radiates a persona bigger than he has, like somehow he takes up more space than he needs. It was disconcerting, sitting there with him. I’d say he was controlling but patient.”
“Patient Faraday is not,” Rook said.
“He didn’t rush our conversation.”
“That’s calculating, then,” Rook said. “He was getting your barometer.”
Gridlock at the intersection on Madison created a staccato jumble of varied horn blasts.
“What else about him?” Rook said. He leaned in again but thankfully his breath no longer smelled of coffee.
“Eyes on his club most of the time,” Calder said. “On the dancers and the patrons.”
“I never shoulda taken you there.”
“His people are afraid of him,” Calder said.
“You should be afraid of Sotto,” Rook said.
“I don’t know Sotto well enough that he frightens me.”
“I’m telling you ya should be,” Rook said. “I’m less scared of Faraday, but I respect him more.”
“Respect Faraday or Sotto?”
“Faraday,” Rook said. “We worked together once. Look at her, in that sundress.” He pointed with his chin. “I swear, sit on any Manhattan corner for an hour and you’ll see the most beautiful women and wonder they’re not models. Maybe they are. Loose dresses like those, you wish it was windy. Thin material, those sundresses.”
“Worked for Faraday how?” Calder said.
“Together, for about two days ten years ago, twelve. Mother and father come to us both separately. Faraday got the mother. They were bidding on a house in Syosset.”
“Where’s Syosset?”
“On the Island, all you need to know.”
“Staten Island?”
“Long Island. Good house, nice school district, low taxes. Smart place to move, only there’s this other bidder.”
“The mother and father, they came to you and Faraday?” Calder said.
“They wanted the house. I decide, forget about them, who needs the fucking Island. Week later, the husband, he comes to me, Faraday’s making more progress. And whoever gets the other bidder to cancel first, they get paid three times the initial fee.”
“You went to Faraday,” Calder said.
“He came to me.” Rook burped. It smelled of vomit.
“Christ, could you fucking sit back?” Calder said.
“Fuck you and no. One and only time Faraday’s at The Gossamer, ever. He tells me he knows the name of this other family but there are three families with this name and he doesn’t have the patience — not the time but the patience — to go hunting.”
“Sotto, he’s okay with Faraday at the bar?” Calder said.
“You kidding? He’s in the next booth. Crammed in there with Beryl, the twins, Kinkaid, Montford. They’re all listening, they’re picking at our thoughts, they’re about ready to do something.” Rook cleared his throat. “Right, he, so, so Faraday says he’ll give me the last name if I go out there and do the legwork. He gives me two days. We’ll split the money if I do, I owe him the whole fee if I don’t.”
“So you did, legwork and all,” Calder said.
“Didn’t take me long to find the three. What Faraday left me with was the easy part.”
“I’m sure he felt just the opposite,” Calder said.
“Everyone has their strengths,” Rook said and sat back again, only because Calder hadn’t asked this time. “You have to know what yours are. That right there’s the secret to success, that is. And the meaning of life is this, Avoid pain.”
“Avoid pain,” Calder said.
“Absolutely. Find fault with that.”
“Avoiding pain, that’s not a meaning,” Calder said. “That’s a suggestion, that’s a recommendation.”
“It’s a life
style,” Rook said.
“You’re the only person I ever met sometimes what you say you take yourself out of context. Faraday, what was your appraisal?”
“I wouldn’t wanna work with him more than the few days I had. He wears them down, his crew.” Rook crossed his legs; it was a small car, the cheapest they could rent, but he was determined to cross them. He needed to cross his legs cause that’s what people do in backseats. Besides sex, which in this car would have been a spatial feat.
“The Nicotine Queen,” Rook said.
“We already talked that out.”
“My dancer.”
“The one who I’m not allowed her name,” Calder said.
“I didn’t give you the whole ending. She died after I left her to get clean. I say this for your enlightenment but you won’t listen. I got her blood on my hands. I’m not saying it’ll end as badly for you, but it’s likely to end bad. Considering Faraday and Tattletail. I don’t know anyone dated a dancer it didn’t end in grief.”
“But you could care less,” Calder said.
“I couldn’t care less,” Rook said, and caught Calder’s eye in the rearview. “She does have great lively red hair, though.”
They sat in silence again. Without the sound of their voices to drown it out, the city’s noises invaded the car: harsh, sharp, bleating.
About half an hour later, around four, Majella left through one of the revolving doors and took to the sidewalk with another man, also in a suit. They were walking close enough to hold hands. Calder sensed they wanted to.
“He’s outside,” Calder said, left the car, ran across the street. He caught up with them as they rounded Fifth. Stepped in front of them. The other man was older this close, his face stenciled with handsome wrinkles and his hair fighting off grey.
“You,” Calder told him, “you can leave and don’t call our friend here for the rest of the day.” Calder had his hand around Majella’s wrist.
The other man walked away. He had his reasons, which Calder pressed at, for not wanting attention at this moment, on this corner, in this company.
“Who in the hell are you people?” Majella said, tugging his arm free. “What are you doing? You’re with that asshole of a man from yesterday morning, you have to be.”
“I have a car and we’re gonna talk in it.”
Calder took a few steps to the street, but Majella wasn’t coming.
Calder said, “I saw you go into the hotel alone and I saw you come out with him.” He pulled Majella over to the Mazda, shoved him into the backseat with Rook, then sat behind the wheel. He didn’t turn around but watched them in the mirror.
“I meant to ask, yesterday, that ring,” Rook said and pointed at Majella’s left ring finger. “Silver or platinum? They can look the same in the wrong light.” To Calder: “Man’s got a ring.”
“I’m divorced.”
“Bullshit,” Calder said.
“I got used to it there, haven’t taken it off cause I pick up more women with it on.”
“Bullshit,” Rook said.
“You’re not divorced,” Calder said, “and you never picked up a lady ever. I know this is true. Your wife’s the one approached you, I know that’s true as well.”
“Whe — ”
“Because we fucking know,” Rook said. “It’s our job. I been called an interpreter more than once.”
“I recognize you,” he said to Rook. “What you couldn’t get from Adelard you definitely can’t get from me.”
“It’s what you can get from Adelard,” Calder said.
Majella tried the door but Calder had engaged the child locks.
“What have I done? What? Nothing wrong, that’s what I’ve done. Nothing.”
“Your wife, she’d disagree?” Calder said.
Majella stared at Calder in the rearview.
“She suspects,” Calder said. “She had you tailed, what was it, a year ago? You bribed him — Ten thou — Fifteen thousand? Fifteen?”
“Christ, man, this is some expensive secret,” Rook said.
“I can come up with more,” Majella said. “How long ago’d she hire you?”
“We’ve never even seen her, talked to her,” Rook said.
“Ti — ”
“You forgot, interpreters,” Rook said. “How many kids you have?”
“Three,” Calder answered for Majella.
“Three, that’s remarkable,” Rook said. “I’d have guessed one at the utmost. None more likely.”
“I would really like to get out of this car.”
Calder opened the windows a couple inches. “That’s all,” he said.
“What do I have to do to get out of here.” Not a question, because there was little question he wouldn’t do what they said.
“Int 3001,” Calder said.
“That damn stupid bill,” Majella said. “I wish it hadn’t ever been put forth. Wanna talk scandal? Bribes? And this city knew how many mistresses — ”
“What’s it called when your mistress is a man?” Rook said.
“Fuck you,” Majella said.
“Don’t. Do not curse at me,” Rook said.
“I’m sorry,” Majella said. “Really, sorry. This Int hasn’t even been passed and it’s caused more ulcers than the Second Amendment.”
“You have Adelard’s ear,” Calder said.
“But I don’t have his hand, the man’s stubborn and he’ll do as he pleases.”
“He’ll please vote for the Int,” Calder said.
“If he’s made up his mind that way.”
“Minds are like beds,” Rook said. “They can be made and unmade.”
“You’re looking for higher office,” Calder said.
“I’m running for City Council next November,” Majella said.
“Are you? Borough President yourself one day?” Rook said.
“Mayor,” Calder said.
“I don’t know about mayor,” Majella said.
“How many Council Members are gay?” Rook said.
“A few. It’s no shame anymore.”
“I never said it was shameful. It’s shameful when you’re married,” Rook said. “How many?”
“Some.”
“How many are gay and married?” Rook said.
“How could anyone know?” Majella said.
“How many do you think are gay and divorced?” Calder said.
“I don’t know. A few.”
“Even less,” Calder said.
They had Majella return the Mazda for them to the rental agency Downtown. On their walk to the subway Rook said, “Now we got some drama. Now I’ll do you the favor of seeing it all the way through.”
“For all my percentage plus the Winged Lady’s lap dance.”
“For that, too,” Rook said.
Calder said, “Long Island. You said the other day you’d never once set foot outside the city in forty years.”
“Did I?”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Hm. That must’ve been a lie.”
back to top
FORTY-FOUR
Friday, None
“My God, ’Day,” Dowd was saying, “they gave me no idea. There was no way of telling. They fooled me. It was Iommi, last night wouldn’t have ended the way it did.” He was standing at the door, ready to be dismissed or ready to flee. “I’ll gladly quit, that’ll make this any better.”
Gladly find another job you don’t kill me, he was thinking. Which Faraday easily snatched out of the air.
They were all in the apartment above the club, used most recently when Kitten had taken Emmie up here directly after Swarthy’s attack. It was a small and soft space — cushions and curtains and carpet — usually reserved for Faraday’s naps and his father’s visits.
Dowd, Faraday, Kinkaid, Emmie, and a doctor.
“And if we — When they’re found, I’d like to personally,” Dowd said. “I’d force one to kill the other, then I’ll finish the one left standing. That’s what I’d lik
e to do. I couldn’t force a fight between them the way all of you can — ”
He was mewling, he knew it, he couldn’t stop himself.
The doctor was retaping Faraday’s torso with Teflon seal tape around the splints he’d placed on both sides of his ribs earlier that morning. When finished, he pressed the end strip to another, held it flat with his thumb, drizzled it with Krazy Glue, and let go when it dried. Thirty seconds. Then drew Krazy Vs up and down Faraday’s chest to keep the strips together.
Kinkaid had never seen his boss without a shirt. His muscling was apparent and Kinkaid thought he should have taken the beating better.
Dark reds seeped from between the white bands like dripping port-wine stains.
“Is thread tape the best way to deal with that?” Kinkaid said. His arms were crossed, his head slanted to the side in false concern. He was on a leather stool in front of the empty wet bar. “I never heard of Teflon for a rib cage.”
“Oh, you haven’t? Oh, are you the doctor or am I?”
“Just think maybe he needs a chiropractor, too, the damage.”
“The blow to his coccyx,” the doctor said, “and the ones to the small of his back, yes they might upset his spine. He’ll need an adjustment or two.”
“I’m saying, a chiropractor,” Kinkaid said.
“I am a chiropractor.”
“A doctor and a chiropractor,” Kinkaid said with amusement.
Faraday was on the sofa. Emmie held blue plastic ICE-PAKs to his mouth and sore underarm. Gauze was wrapped awkwardly around his ear and looped over the top of his head.
His nose was truly the first thing to notice. It had swelled to twice its former thickness. Black bruises had spread from both sides. There was a knot on the back of his skull evidenced by a tuft of raised hair. His other ear was a bright orange, as if someone had a flashlight behind it. Emmie had tweezed the splinters from below his bandaged ear.
“Well you don’t look much improved since I was first here” — the doctor made a display of consulting his Rolex which everyone knew was a knockoff — “and that was fourteen hours ago.”
What was left of the doctor’s hair was a comb-over; a style that, come on, never fooled anyone. He was wearing a white business suit, a white shirt, white tie, round black glasses. Kinkaid thought he looked like Harold Lloyd, only balding. Faraday’s blood was on the doctor’s latex gloves and the cuffs of his white sleeves.