Sacrifice

he said proudly.

'Which one is Elsa?'

'The one who looks like a bull mastiff. When she went into heat, Simba wouldn't let any of the others near her…Mole explained it to me.

'Oh yeah?'

'Yes. Do you like her?'

'Sure. She looks like a real tiger. What's her name?'

'She doesn't have one yet. She's for Luke, okay? Okay, Burke? Please? Mole said I could ask you.'

'Terry…'

'Burke, he needs a puppy, he does. She won't be any trouble…she's real smart and all.'

I lit a smoke, buying time. The Mole looked away like he was busy with something. No help.

'Terry, Luke's…sick now. He won't always be sick, but…he could hurt the puppy, kid. He wouldn't know what he was doing, but…'

Terry's eyes were his mother's then, Michelle's legacy blazing at me, never backing up. 'He wouldn't! I know him too, Burke. I talked to him. He wouldn't.'

'Look, maybe…'

'He needs a puppy now, Burke. To make him feel safe. I…promised him.'

'You got a blanket for her?' I surrendered.

121

The gypsy cab pulled a little to the left when I tapped the brakes, but otherwise it stumbled along well enough. I looped over the Triboro, caught the FDR south. It was down to two lanes…some construction project… and the yutz in the Lincoln in front of me decided to take his half out of the middle, blocking and guarding so I couldn't get past.

The puppy yawned, half sleeping in her blanket on the front seat. I admired the slick way Terry had hijacked me into delivering her— the Mole was teaching him science, but Michelle had given him art.

Horns blared behind me. I extended my arms in a 'what can I do?' gesture and let them blast away.

No cassette player in this heap. I found the all-news station, listened to the body count that passes for electronic journalism in this town. Ninety-one degrees, humidity eighty-eight percent. Some ballplayer was demanding a few more million bucks a year to do whatever he did. Gas prices going up— politicians demand a complete investigation. Body of a baby found in Bowery Bay, just off La Guardia Airport. City-Wide Special Victims Task Force Chief Wolfe says indictments will be sought against those responsible once autopsy is completed.

I lit a smoke, thinking about spirits.

122

Just past eleven. The guy who opened the back door to Mama's nodded at me, ignoring the bundle in my arms. He glanced over my shoulder, pointed at the gypsy cab, said something I couldn't understand, pointed to me. I nodded. He made a 'wait here' gesture, came out with a small pot and a brush. Painted some Chinese characters on the trunk of the cab— looked like whitewash, nice calligraphy. He bowed— okay now. You park in Max the Silent's spot and they don't know your car, the neighborhood recycling program goes right into action.

I showed Mama the puppy. She patted its body, clucking at the plumpness. Opened its mouth, raised its tail.

'Good puppy, Burke. Strong.'

'Yeah. It's for Luke. A gift.'

'Okay. Puppy hungry?'

'Probably. Let's let the kid feed her, okay?'

'In basement. With the woman.'

'We'll wait.'

123

No lunchtime customers yet— one of Mama's thugs in place at the door, across from the register. Mama was scratching behind the puppy's ears with one hand, the other waving in front of the dog's nose. The pup's eyes were locked on Mama's waving hand.

'Train dog this way,' she said. 'Rub hand in liver, dog follow everywhere.'

Something to that. Something Blossom told me about pheromones, the copper-estrogen smell still sharp in my nostrils whenever I thought of her.

'Hi, Burke!' Luke bounded into the front room, Teresa trailing in his wake.

'Hello, Luke. How's it going?'

But the kid wasn't looking at me anymore, his face rapt with the wonder of the puppy.

'What a puppy! He's yours, Burke?'

'No. The puppy is yours. A gift from your friend Terry. And it's a girl, not a boy.'

'Can I…?'

Mama handed him the pup. Luke sat on the floor, cuddling the dog, pushing his face into the animal's snout, giggling when the pup licked his face.