'Thanks, Mama.' She hung up.
85
Plenty of time. I found a Korean joint in Jamaica, combination greengrocery and deli. I was eating a bagel and cream cheese, sipping a cold Ginseng-Up, watching the owner's daughter test pineapples for ripeness by pulling up on the stalks. If the stalk comes out, the pineapple's ready to eat. The cash register had two sliced lemon halves on either side on the drawer. The clerk ran his fingers across the lemon's surface as he counted bills. Big sign by the register. NO CHANGE. A stocky guy with one of those small-billed painter's caps turned backward on his head came in, mumbled something about change for the bus. The counter-clerk pointed at the sign, said something in Korean. The guy kept pressing, raising his voice, sounding drunk. I came up behind him, tapped him on the shoulder. He whirled on me, face snarled. 'You got a problem?' I shook my head, smiled. 'No,' I told him, 'I got change.' I gave it to him. He swaggered out of the joint, sneering. A guy who knows the score— probably bets on pro wrestling. Before the clerk took the money for my bill, he slipped the revolver he'd been holding back under the counter.
86
The main branch of the Queens Public Library wasn't far away. I parked in the lot nearby, went inside. Used the InfoSearch computer to track down articles on Multiple Personality Disorder. There were a lot of them. Found a quiet place to myself. Killed some time.
The Sun Bear had little round marble tables scattered all around, long dark wood bar against one wall, blue smoke mirror behind. Wolfe was sitting alone, wearing a plum-colored sheath, black stockings, and matching heels with ankle straps. Her hair was tied up in a loose knot with a black ribbon around it. Man sitting one table away: sunglasses hooked over some gold chains resting on his chest, gold coin ring on his little finger. He shot back a cuff, checked his watch. More gold.
I walked up on Wolfe's left just as he approached from the right. Focused on his target, he didn't see me.
Wolfe dragged deeply on her cigarette, eyes straight ahead.
The man leaned over her table. 'I wish
Wolfe took the cigarette out of her mouth. Looked at it carefully. 'So do I,' she said, looking right into his face. Dropped the cigarette to the barroom floor, ground it out with the tip of one shoe.
The man flushed red under his tan just as I pulled out a chair, sat down next to Wolfe.
He muttered something as he walked away.
Wolfe turned to me, smiled. 'I think that man just called you a runt.'
I ordered a ginger ale from the Japanese waitress. Wolfe took a beer.
'Nice job today,' I said.
She shrugged. 'The real work is always before the trial. You train to go the distance, sometimes it ends early.'
'And sometimes, they add a few rounds at the end.'
'What does that mean?'
'Two weeks… remember?'
'Sure.'
'Things happen.'
'Yes. Like babies getting killed.'
'I know. I'm in the middle.'
'No, you're not, Mr. Burke. You're nowhere in this at all. What's between Lily and me…well, that's a lot of things. But one thing it isn't— it isn't
'I didn't mean between you and Lily,' I said. Mildly, to take the edge off her harsh tone. 'I mean between two right things, okay?'
'There aren't
'You're sure?'
'Yes.'
'Would you be willing to take a look— make sure it's always that way?'
'Take a look at what?'
'At some things I found…' Rushing ahead as her eyebrows went up. 'I'd have to take you there.'
'Just give me the address.'
'I can't do that.'
She lit another smoke, ghost of a smile curling around the filter in her mouth. 'You want me to wear a blindfold?'
'No. I'd trust you.'
Her eyes were a gray-green, set wide apart. 'Let's do it with the blindfold,' she said.
'I'll let you know. Soon.'
87
I was at Lily's a little past nine. The programs were winding down for the evening— the place was jammed with mothers and fathers picking up their kids. That's what they call whoever comes for the kids— parents. Biology doesn't count down here.
