Maurice didn't answer until the sixth ring-probably a lot of late action coming in.
'It's Burke,' I told him.
'No kidding?' he said. Maurice didn't have the manners of a pig, but he was taking lessons and hoped to be right up there soon.
'The eighth closed yet?'
'Not until ten-where've you been, fucking Idaho?'
'Flower Jewel,' I told him. 'Three to win.'
'Flower Jewel, eighth race. Three to win. That right?'
'Right,' I said.
'Send your man around tomorrow with the money,' Maurice said, slamming down the phone.
I went back to my dinner, wondering if even Pansy could eat all the food Mama had left down in the basement for her.
I lit a cigarette as the dishes were cleared away. Flood's face drifted up from nowhere, floating in the smoke-I ground it out in the ashtray, but it didn't help.
Lily herself answered when I called SAFE.
'It's Burke,' I told her. 'Did you speak with Wolfe?'
'Yes, I did.'
'And?'
'And she gave me a number for you to call-anytime between eight and nine in the morning.'
'She'll talk to me?'
'She just gave me the number to give to you.'
I hadn't expected Lily to get over with Wolfe so easily-McGowan had been my backup plan. If he did get around to calling tomorrow, it wouldn't hurt. I sure as hell wasn't going to call him back and tell him to forget it-he'd be sure I was up to no good.
'Okay,' I said. 'The kid's been coming for treatment?'
'Right on time. But his mother doesn't want to be involved.'
'The redhead?'
'Yes.'
'She's not his mother.'
'Oh. Will his mother?'
'I don't know. I'll see about it, okay?'
'Just so long as they keep bringing the child.'
'I'll talk to his people. And thanks, Lily.'
'Be careful,' she said, hanging up.
I said goodbye to Mama and collected Pansy from the basement. She was still behind the barrier, but the steel container was as clean as if it had been washed. I could see her teethmarks on the rim.
Pansy was happy to be home, insisting on visiting the roof for old times' sake. I had a couple of hours before I had to meet Strega. I found a pro wrestling match on television and lay back on the couch to watch with Pansy. She growled in contentment-if she could have nailed B.T. it would have been a perfect day.
86
THE MOON's cold light never penetrated to the dark streets, but I felt it deep in my spine as I wheeled the Plymouth past the burnt-out buildings on Atlantic. The radio was talking about Marcos settling down in Hawaii. He split the Philippines a few weeks ago, traveling light-a couple of loyal subjects, and the gross national product of his entire country for the last dozen years. A major-league scumbag.
I cut the engine, letting the Plymouth coast around to the garage in back. The door was standing open. Only the BMW was there. I backed the Plymouth inside, found the button, and closed the door. Waiting in the darkness.
A door opened. I could see her back-lighted silhouette standing there, weaving slightly-a candle flame in a gentle breeze.
I climbed out of the Plymouth. When I looked up again, the doorway was empty. I went through the opening and saw her gently floating up the stairs. Her body was wrapped in some gauzy black fabric, blending into the shadows under her red hair. When I got to the top of the stairs, she was gone again.
No lights were on in the house. I found my way into her white living room and took off my coat. I took out a cigarette, scraped the wooden match into life. As I touched the tip of the cigarette to the flame, I heard her voice. 'Me too,' she whispered, floating into the dark room, bending her face forward to the flame. A lollipop stick of marijuana was in her mouth.
I held the light for her, watched her puff to get the joint going and then suck in a massive breath. She floated away from me to the couch-the tip of the joint was a glowing pinpoint in the dark room.
'You having a seance?' I asked her.
'You afraid of the dark?' she retorted.
'I'm afraid of a lot of things,' I told her.
'I know,' she said, dragging on the joint again, holding her breath, expelling it in a hiss.
'It'll be over soon,' I said. 'I'm getting close.'
'To the picture?'
'To the person who took the picture. I can't be sure the picture is still around-like I told you. But I think I can get some answers soon.'
'You want me to do something?'
'I just want an answer to something. I have a couple of more things to do-then I'm going to the people who took the picture, okay? But the picture may be with a whole bunch of other pictures. I may not have time to look through them all-you understand?'
'So?'
'So what if I just destroy
Another drag on the joint, red tip blazing, sharp intake of breath, hiss when it came out. 'I want to see the picture,' she said.
'I'll do my best. But I'm not hanging around if things go bad, see? Scotty wasn't the only one-I'm sure of that now. The people who took the picture, they're in the business, understand?'
'Yes.'
'I don't know how much time I'll have once I get inside.'
She took a last drag and the joint went out; maybe she just pinched off the tip-I couldn't tell.
'You want to get inside now?' Strega said, coming off the couch toward me.
'No,' I told her.
'Yes, you do,' she said, standing next to me. She dropped to her knees, the black gauze fluttering behind me. Bat's wings. Her face was in my lap, her hands at my belt. My hand dropped onto her back, feeling the fabric-and the chill.
'Don't touch me,' she whispered.
