'He's a pimp. He goes off the street before four, five in the morning, the other players will think he's losing a step. Best time to catch him at his crib is early afternoon.'
'Sometimes, when I come off my shift, I can't sleep. Maybe I could try him now.'
'Yeah, okay. When I go up to see the Prof, you take the car. Find a pay phone, take a shot.' I looked at my watch. Almost ten-thirty. 'I'll meet you in the parking lot around noon. If you haven't reached him by then, we'll try again.'
I pulled up outside Saint Vincent's. 'The registration papers are in the glove compartment. You get stopped by the cops, tell them you borrowed the car. It's not on any list.'
I showed her the papers.
'Juan Rodriguez?'
'That's me. I met you at the club. Told you you could borrow the car any time you wanted. You've never been to my house. I told you I wouldn't need the car for a couple of weeks 'cause I'd be on vacation.'
I gave her a slip of paper with a phone number on it. The phone would ring at the junkyard I own a piece of in the Bronx. The old man who made out my paycheck would tell anyone who called I was on vacation. In Puerto Rico someplace. Juan Rodriguez was the ideal employee - he never showed up for work, but he cashed his paycheck and gave the boss back the money. Fuck the IRS.
'Drive the car like it was hot. Don't call attention to yourself. But if you get pulled over, don't run. If you get a ticket, just take it. Don't say anything.'
'All right, honey.'
The Plymouth pulled away and disappeared in traffic. Smoother than I ever drove it.
74
The Prof looked stronger already. I pulled my chair to the head of the bed and we talked like we used to on the yard. Quiet, each looking in a different direction. The West Indian nurse came in.
'I smell smoke in here,' she said, like she'd caught us stealing.
'Smoke don't have a prayer against your own sweet smell, Mama,' the Prof sang out.
'There's no smoking in the patients' rooms. Now, you know that very well. I have told you before.'
The Prof spread his hands to the heavens, seeking divine guidance. 'Lord, what must I say to make this woman give me a play?'
The nurse's broad face creased as she fought off the smile. 'You smart-mouth little man - I'd break the rest of your bones.'
'You don't mean a word of it, a goddess like you.'
The nurse had a pill and a plastic cup of dark liquid. 'You going to take this medicine with no more of your speeches?'
The Prof regarded her, his fine head cocked to the side. 'You know why a man climbs a mountain?'
She sighed, used to this by now.
'So, then. Why does a man climb a mountain?'
''Cause the air's so sweet when you get to the top,' the Prof said, and popped the pill in his mouth, holding the glass like a toast. 'You going to give a poor man a reason to live?'
'You keep messing with me, you have no reason to live,' she warned him, then waited patiently for the Prof to finish drinking his medicine. Snatched the glass from his hand and stalked out.
'A little more time and she's all mine,' the Prof said. He was right - all Mortay broke was his legs.
I lit another cigarette, pulling the half-filled water glass we used as an ashtray from under the bed.
I went to the track. Saw the man. Like I told you.'
'And?'
He can't put me in touch. Says this Mortay's a death-dealer for real. That duel with the Jap - it really went down.'
The Prof dragged deep on his cigarette. 'Yeah. But he's no warrior. Not like Max. He's a junkie for it.'
'It connects, Prof.'
His eyes flashed. ''Run it down, home.'
'You weren't looking for this freak, right? Just poking around . . . asking about the van.'
'Right.'
'And this guy's no bodyguard. You must have stepped on his turf by accident.'
'It's not enough. We need to know more if we going to score.'
'I'm working on it. I told this Lupe . . . the guy who makes matches . . . I want to meet.'
'You not going to bring Max?'
'Max is out of this one, Prof.'
He reached his hand across the bed. I squeezed it.
'That seals the deal,' he said.
'Right. You getting anything over the wire?'
'Not yet. It'll come, though. I got a lot of hooks floating.'
I stood up to leave. 'You need anything?' I asked.
'I need a nurse,' he said.
75
Belle was behind the wheel of the Plymouth as I came through the parking lot, reading a newspaper spread over the steering wheel. She had the car moving before I closed the door.
'Very nice,' I told her.
'This is some lovely car.'
'You're some lovely woman. You call Marques?'
'No answer. Can't we try him from your office?'
'That phone's no good past eight in the morning. You can't stay on the line more than a minute anyway. I'll show you where to pull over.'
We found an open pay phone by the river. I handed Belle a quarter. She took one of those premoistened towelettes from her purse, ripped off the foil, wiped down the mouthpiece.
She dialed the number. Waited. Somebody picked up. I only heard her end of the conversation.
'Could I speak to Marques, please?'
. . .
'Belle.'
We waited a couple of minutes. I opened my palm to show her I had another quarter ready.
'Hi. Remember that man you wanted me to call for you? Burke? He came by the club. Said he wanted to meet with you. About what you talked about the last time.'
. . .
'He said it was up to you. Any time. Any place.'
. . .
'No, he didn't seem mad at all. He just said he needed information about the scene, and you were the best person . . . He didn't want to poke around without checking with you, he said.'
. . .
'Okay. Wait, let me write this down,' she said, signaling to me. I nodded. 'Go ahead,' she said into the phone.
. . .
'Junior's? Where's that? Oh, he'll know.'
I nodded to her again.
'What time?'
. . .
