A Tax in Blood Page 7

  The hooker pursed her lips and made kissing noises. The kid glared at Horace. “What are you going to do about this, officer? I want your badge number. My father’s a lawyer. If you don’t do something about this, we’ll report you for dereliction of duty.”

  Horace pulled the kid up close and exhaled slowly. I winced. “I don’t give a fuck if your old man’s almighty God himself. What I’m gonna do, you snot-nosed little shit, is run your ass in on assault charges, abduction with intent to defile and soliciting. That’s for starters. Try to explain that to poppa.” At that, the hooker slid along the wall, kicked off her high heels and ran blindly across the street, barely avoiding being hit by a cherry red Caddy. Within seconds she was lost in the crowd.

  “Look what you did …” the kid whined.

  “No, you look what you did. You came down here to rent a stranger’s mouth. You probably got what you paid for. Now go home. Clear offa my streets. Hopefully, all you got here was a good lesson.” The three kids had regrouped, sullenly hanging their heads. “And anyway, for your information that girl’s name is Robert.” Two of the boys started snickering and pointing their fingers at Motormouth. He turned gray, lurched away and threw up on the wall of an X-rated movie house. Horace shook his head.

  The three kids climbed back into their car and sped away. “Yuppie puppies. What a breed. Ankle biters, all of ’em,” Horace said, then listened to his radio for a second. “Party time down the street. Gotta roll, Hags.” I went back across the street in search of the red Cadillac.

  Eldorado Jack was sitting in the backseat of his car. He had a woman on each side, one hand on a thigh, a drink in the other. Neither one was Fancy. Jack and the girls slid out of the car. He kissed his companions, patted their rumps and sent them back to work. I’d turned away from him and was staring at a window display of marital aids. In the window’s reflection I took an inventory of Mr. Eldorado Jack Parmenter. Taller than me, rangy, long neck, big Adam’s apple, sharp features, slicked back black hair, a manic light in the eyes. He had on a fortune in gold rings and chains. A flowered silk shirt was open to his navel. Snow in your veins will keep you warm these chilly nights. Lime green silk suit over purple boots, probably made from the hide of some endangered species. I watched him move around a bit. His clothes fit like a second skin and his crotch only lacked for a neon arrow. The toothpick would be in his boot or more likely under his arm.

  I had company. A little Oriental girl had entwined her arm in mine. Close but no cigar. “What’cha looking for, honey?” She nodded her head at the window.

  “Nothing.”

  “I can do you better, honey. Make you real happy.” She stopped popping her gum and smiled. There wasn’t enough juice in it to brighten a penlight.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Toy. What’s yours?” My toy was emaciated. Another teenybopper vein popper on the oblivion express.

  “How about Joe? You know a girl named Fancy?”

  My friend dropped my arm. “No.”

  I reached out for her. “She made me real happy. I want to see her again. Tell you what. You tell me where she is, I’ll introduce you to a friend of mine—Mr. Grant.” They learn to put a name to faces real fast. The streetwalker I.Q. test: name the presidents on American bills from one to a hundred. You have ten seconds, begin now.

  She looked at Jack for an instant. He was slinging shit with another “man of leisure.” “So, Jack,” he said, “you know why a whore’s like a cheap watch?” His eyes were boring into the other guy. Finger popping, he could barely wait to get to the punch line. Finally, he rapped his doltish companion in the chest. “They take a lickin’ and keep on trickin’.” I thought Jack would have a stroke he was so convulsed by his own wit.

  “C’mon tell me. I’m no trouble.” I took her by the arm and walked down the street with her. My other hand I slipped inside my jacket and showed her the fifty. She was as desperate as a hamster in its wheel. I wasn’t real thrilled at lining Jack’s pockets, but it would be the easiest fifty she’d make tonight. She might make quota and dodge a beating. I wasn’t long on rescue fantasies. Sad but true, people do what they want to do. We can bring each other down but you can only lift yourself up.

  “Yeah. I know Fancy. She’s in deep trouble. Jack heard she’s thinking of going outlaw on him. He’s real angry.”

  “Is she hiding somewhere?”

  “I don’t know. Jack said he’d forgive her and not hurt her if she came out tonight. She has to bring him an offering. You know, a gift. Something for his car. He’s waiting to see if she shows up.”

  “All right. Here.” I gave her the bill and figured I’d sit on Mr. Eldorado Jack Parmenter like a buzzard and see what happened.

  If you stand still on these streets people figure you’ve opened up a shop and they browse. A couple of leather boys sized me up. I moved my head no, like a pitcher shaking off a signal. They moved on. I wanted to be close enough to Jack to intercept this girl if she showed up, but not right in his lap. Ten minutes later I saw her. She was hurrying down the street with a package clutched to her chest. Jack hadn’t seen her yet. I stepped out of the doorway I’d taken root in and walked right into her. She caromed off me and dropped her box. I picked it up. She was frantic to get it back.

  “Give me that, man, it’s mine. Please.”

  “No problem. I just want to talk with you for a second. Then you can be on your way.”

  “No way, man.”

  “Then I’ll hold onto this, darling.” She looked down the street to where Jack was. She was terror stricken. “Don’t be afraid of Jack. If you don’t want to talk to him or work for him, I’ll help you. Just give me a minute. I just want to ask you one question. I’ll pay you for your time, top dollar.”

  “Look man, I can’t. If Jack sees me even talking to you, he’ll think I’m cheating on him or trying to leave. He’ll hurt me. You don’t know him. He’ll find me. Please give me my box. Please.” I thought about holding on to the package and then feeding it to Jack. Instead I slipped out one of my cards and gave it to her. “This is my name and number. When you get a minute, call me. I just want to ask you a question. There’s money in it and it won’t get you in trouble. If you want to leave Jack, call me. I’ll help you get out.” She took the card and slipped it into her purse. I gave her the box. Jack pushed through a strolling couple, grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.

  “What you doing’? This your new man?” He turned toward me and undid the one button on his jacket.

  I marked him as right-handed. I backed away, palms up. “Hey, easy. This lady just dropped her package. I picked it up and gave it back to her.” Over Jack’s shoulder I watched Fancy’s eyes. She pulled on his arm.

  “Jackie. Baby. Please. Fancy’s back. Let me show you what I got, baby. Come on.” She was climbing all over him, cooing, running her fingers through his hair. I backed off even further. Eldorado Jack watched me disappear into the crowd with the intensity of a man pinning a butterfly to a board. “Another time, my man. Another time.” I muttered to myself. I backed into an immovable object and whirled.

  “Easy, Hags. Easy. You’re very tense, very tense.” Hoss chuckled. “Saw that little display of discretion back there. What they call the better part of valor, eh? Be patient. This guy’s got a real knack for making enemies. You’ll get a piece of him. Try not to do it on my streets, okay? I’m sworn to uphold the law and I do like peace and quiet.”

  “Wouldn’t think of it, Hoss. Give my regards to Brenda.” I’d had it with the circus. I found my car and left.

  Chapter 14

  Samantha’s Mustang was in the driveway when I got home. I let myself in, walked back to the bedroom, pushed open the door and saw her in the clock’s luminous glow. She was all curled up, one hip and leg draped over a pillow, her balled fist tucked close under her chin. Smiling, I sat down by the bed to get undressed. As I did that I thought of Marta Vasquez waiting in the dark for her husband to come back to her, and
all the women we leave behind on our mad quests. I wonder how a Penelopiad would have told the story. Naked I slid in next to Samantha. She adjusted and then adhered herself to my shape. I kissed the nape of her neck and slid a protective arm around her.

  When I awoke the bed was all mine. I wandered into the bathroom, cleaned up, slipped on a pair of shorts and went into the kitchen. Samantha had set out sun-dried tomatoes, cheese and muffins. Coffee was brewing. I went out to the driveway and retrieved the paper. I scanned the paper as I walked back to the house. Page one had the latest communiqué from the Standing Committee on World Justice. They demanded the immediate withdrawal of all our “forces of subversion” in Central America or there would be another summary execution of the “citizen sheep” of this country. A sidebar by Dr. Sumner Barfield, a colleague of Dr. Atherton, analyzed the rhetoric of the decree which equated Central America with Vietnam. Barfield noted that the anti-Vietnam activists had identified the government as the “enemy of the people,” whereas this group had defined the enemy as the people. He concluded that this group was not a homegrown but rather an imported virus. Or words to that effect. Farther down I read that the final death toll in Los Angeles had reached 338—the greatest number of people ever killed in a single terrorist attack anywhere. “There is no safety in numbers or in anything else.” Thank you, James Thurber.

  Samantha poured two cups of coffee and brought them with cream and sugar to the table. She took the front page and left me the sports page. The lead story was that many season ticket holders were expected to skip next Sunday’s game. A bomb in the upper deck would collapse the roof overhang, killing thousands in their seats. I folded up the paper and put it aside. It was my turn to use the tickets.

  Samantha flirted with me over the rim of her cup, wrinkling her nose, flicking her tongue over her teeth. All she wore was a T-shirt embossed with the marines logo and the words “Looking for a few good men.”

  “Hello, stranger,” she said.

  “Hello, yourself. It was nice finding you here when I came in.” I sipped my coffee. “No, it was more than nice. It was perfect.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. How did your evening go?”

  “Not bad. I made a fair bit of progress on this Vasquez case. Tell you something, though. I went by to see Arnie first. He was drunk as a skunk. He’s really hurting too. He started to talk about it but then he threw me out. I’ve never seen him like that before. The walls may be coming down but I’ll tell you I’m not sure what is going to be left standing.”

  “God, I’m sorry to hear that. Do you think I could talk to him maybe?”

  “I don’t know. You could try. He wasn’t too happy to see me.”

  “What are you doing today?” she asked.

  “I’m on hold on this case. There are a couple of long shot loose ends I could pursue, but that’s it. If this witness I located last night doesn’t come across on her own, I’ll give her name to Nate Grossbart and see if he wants to drag her ass into court. Maybe we’ll get somewhere that way. Otherwise I’m all yours.”

  “Hmmm. That’s an interesting idea.”

  I got up to chase her around the table when the phone rang. After the fifth ring I was convinced it wouldn’t go away, so I answered it.

  “Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, Mr. Haggerty, but this is Sergeant Sproul. I’d like you to come down to Casualty Hospital. Got something to show you.” After a second’s pause he added, “You aren’t going to make me come looking for you, are ya?”

  “Wouldn’t think of it.” I hung up.

  “Who was that?” Samantha asked.

  “The cop on this case I’ve got says he has something to show me at Casualty Hospital.”

  “Do you have to go?”

  “He was telling, not asking.” I kissed her brow. “Besides, I’m curious.”

  “Can’t I tempt you?”

  “God yes, but please don’t. I already don’t want to leave. Don’t make it any harder.”

  She frowned. “All right. If I can’t keep you here I’ll go with you.” She slapped my thigh. “Let’s go, Nick, you still have to walk Asta.”

  Fifteen minutes later we were on I-66 eastbound. Just before noon we pulled up to Casualty Hospital’s emergency room entrance. An unmarked car complete with magnetic cherry on top was next to the sliding glass doors.

  “Samantha, why don’t you wait out here. This isn’t a pretty place to be,” I said as I got out of the car.

  “Let me decide what I can handle. I’m not made of china, you know.”

  We passed under the electric eye and the doors silently parted and closed behind us. Casualty was well named. Ambulatory schizophrenics sat and conversed with their own private company as they waited for the paddy wagon ride to St. Elizabeth’s. A young black man with a bloody compress over his right eye sat next to a woman who was squeezing and patting his hand. Sproul came around from behind the admitting desk.

  “Come here, Haggerty.”

  Samantha moved to follow. He held up a palm. “Sorry, this is official police business. You’ll have to wait here.” She stepped back. We walked side by side down the corridor. Sproul was stale with sweat, rumpled and grim.

  He pushed open a door. Inside a doctor stood by a bed. He turned to look at us. Beyond, I saw a figure. Most of its face was covered with bandages. There were tubes and lines running out of its arms.

  Sproul introduced me with a wave of his arm. “Leo Haggerty. Francine Ky.”

  “Jesus Christ. What happened to her?”

  “She won’t say. We found your card on her. She’d been dumped in a trash can near Eighth and F. Beat cop found her about an hour ago and had her sent here. So what do you know?”

  “I saw her on the street last night. She was going to see her pimp, Eldorado Jack. He was supposedly furious with her about going outlaw on him.”

  “Why’d she have your card?”

  “I told her I’d help her get away from him if she wanted.”

  “Aren’t you the noble one.” Sproul snickered.

  “Fuck you, Sproul.”

  “Touchy, touchy. What else?”

  “I’d heard she was interested in the Donnelly death. I wanted to know why. She never said anything. So I left.”

  “Mr. Eldorado Jack probably didn’t like your interest and decided to teach her a lesson.” Sproul shook his head and looked ready to spit a gob of disgust.

  “Have you picked him up yet?”

  “Are you kidding? I don’t have a complaint. This, this human punching bag”—he waved his hand to dismiss the whole scene—“is afraid he’ll do even worse things to her. So she says she had an accident. His girls wouldn’t pick him out of a lineup if he was the only one in it. I’ve got no complaint, Haggerty, so good-bye. I just thought you might have something we could use.” Sproul turned and walked out.

  The doctor pointed to the door. I went out with him. In the hall I grabbed his arm, a little too roughly. He looked at his arm with distaste. “Yes,” he said.

  “Sorry. I’m a little jacked up about this. What happened to her?”

  “She said she slipped on a wet step and fell.”

  “Bullshit. You know what I mean.”

  The guy turned to face me and shoved his hands in his smock. “For starters he yanked out four of her teeth. Just repossessing the gold work, I guess. After that I’d say he used a vise grip on her. She’ll never work again, not for him, not for anybody. You catch my meaning? Believe me, you don’t want the details.” He shook his head. “She isn’t the first one of his we’ve seen in here. I’m sure she won’t be the last.”

  I watched him walk away, checked the halls and let myself back into Francine Ky’s room. I pulled a chair up next to the bed. Bandages covered her nose and an eye. Her other eye was closed. Her hair was tucked up in a net. I leaned close to her and whispered, “Francine, don’t say anything. Just listen to me. You have my card. When you get out of here, I want you to call me. I’ll see if I can help you out. Do
you understand me?”

  Nothing. Then a nod. “I want to ask you one question, that’s all. Who asked you to go to the hotel and ask about Malcolm Donnelly? I just want the name and I’ll leave you alone.”

  She still hadn’t opened her eye. Her black, swollen tongue peeked out between her battered lips. I leaned closer to hear her, turning my head so that my ear was just above her mouth. “Don’t know name.” The words seeped out like bad air from a played out mine. She swallowed. “Cameron House, 3G.”

  I squeezed her arm. “Thanks. You call me when you’re ready to get out.” She turned her head away.

  I left Francine Ky in that hospital room with nothing but tubes and monitors for company. Samantha was sitting in the lobby. “What happened?”

  “A girl I talked to out on the street got mutilated by her pimp. She’s too scared to press charges against him. Probably with good reason. No witnesses. Her ‘dubious moral stature’ as they say. Jack’ll get three other pimps to swear he was at a Bible class with them. He’d probably walk and if she were around he probably would give her a repeat performance. Fuck, who cares.” I waved my hand at nothing.

  I rammed a smile up my face. “However, Sherlock Haggerty did get a lead out of all this. That’s what counts, right? She made her own bed, right? I’m just doing a job, right? Don’t interrupt with an answer, Watson, I’m not in the mood.” I hit the glass doors hard enough to shake the frame and stalked back to the car.

  “What next?” she said as we pulled away from the hospital.

  “I’ve got a lead to follow. I don’t know where it’s going to go.”

  “Okay. I guess my Nora Charles routine is over, huh?”

  “Yeah. This is serious business and I don’t want to be worrying about what you’re doing or where you are.”

  “Why don’t you drop me at a Metro stop? I’ll catch a train home and get back to work.” She hid her disappointment well, but not perfectly.

  “All right.”

  “Will you be coming by tonight?” she asked.