“I promise.”
“Liar. You’re just like all straight men.”
“I don’t know how to take that, Klaus.”
“Forget it. Just remember, if you get killed, I’m not coming to the funeral.”
“I’ll remember.”
Looked like I was going back to the land of one-eyed cats and disgraced ex-cops. True, I made friends more easily than Klaus, but at the moment, the ones I had-even the former ones-would have to do.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I wouldn’t say that Rico Tripoli was thrilled to see me, given that the woman from the next room was topless and on her knees in front of him. Marisa was a kid herself, bone skinny, with a plain face and disinterested brown eyes. Given her method of fund-raising, that disinterest would serve her well. On the other hand, her addiction to crack would not. It had already begun to erode her body. Whatever humanity she had left wouldn’t be far behind. With a few more months of wear and tear on her, she’d be getting five bucks a throw and a lot less picky about her clientele. Two things you never see in this world: baby pigeons and old crack ho’s. I wondered if her daughter would ever consider drug abuse as a victimless crime.
I was in no position to judge and no mood to preach, but I was feeling impatient. I waved four twenties at her, putting a basketball-sized dent in her disinterest. She didn’t even bother getting up, hobbling over to me on her knees. When she reached out for my zipper I snatched her hand and folded it around the money. Then I lifted her up and told her to go buy her daughter some new clothes and the cat some decent food. I didn’t delude myself that she would do anything other than sailor-spend it on crack. She was out of the room before her shirt was buttoned.
Good thing I had too many worries of my own to look for evidence of shame in Rico’s eyes. Good, because I wouldn’t have found any. He was beyond worrying about redemption, maybe completely beyond redemption itself. The alcohol, drugs, and prison time had beaten all the hope out of him.
“What do you want besides to fuck up my good time?”
“I want your help.”
He thought about that for a second. “What’s it worth to you?”
I guess I didn’t react very well to the question.
“What’s the matter, Moe? You just gave that bitch eighty bucks
“Okay, Rico, you’re right. You don’t owe me shit. I heard this speech the last time I was here.”
“And you’ll hear it again.”
“No, I won’t,” I said, noticing the near-empty bottle of no-name scotch next to his bed. “I’m going now. Maybe I’ll be back. If I bother coming back, then we’ll negotiate the terms of our deal. I’m making a lot of deals these days, old buddy. Don’t be stupid and fuck this one up.”
You have a better chance at winning the lottery than finding a fully functional public phone in that part of Manhattan. If it wasn’t the homeless rigging coin slots to trap quarters to be fished out with a crooked piece of wire, it was inept crackheads and a sprinkling of other assorted assholes who ripped apart phones in futile attempts to get at the coin boxes.
Not a month ago, Aaron bought a cellular phone. The man spends his entire life in two places: the Manhattan store and at home. What, he couldn’t be without a phone on his car rides to and from work? I mean, who the hell wants to be tethered to a phone twenty-four hours a day? Talk about an invention destined to fail. Then again, the idea of a portable phone seemed pretty appealing to me right at the moment. It was a brief flirtation. I found a working phone three blocks north of the Mistral Arms.
Miriam picked up. “Hello.”
“Hey, little sister.”
“Don’t little sister me! How could you drag us into this, Moses? We’re on vacation with our kids. With our kids, for chrissakes!”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry! You’ve jeopardized Ronnie’s career. I can only imagine what would be going on here if his folks hadn’t left for a cruise yesterday.”
“If I could’ve thought of any other way of doing it, I wouldn’t have called Ronnie. You know that. But her life was in danger,
“No kidding! You mean people don’t get shot for fun?”
“Miriam-”
“Isn’t this what they have cops and hospitals for?”
“No, not for situations like this, they don’t! Look, I can’t unring the bell, but I’ll try and do my best to clear this up quick. How is she?”
“Better. Ronnie’s got her on some heavy pain medication, so she’s in and out of it. But she says she needs to see you, that it’s very important.”
“Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can. You guys need anything?”
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, Moses. Didn’t you teach me that?”
I took that as a cue to hang up.
Ditmas Park is a section of Brooklyn that is of a different time and place. It’s a small neighborhood of tree- lined streets, period lamp-posts, and oversized Victorians on plots of land barely big enough to contain them. Some streets even have grassy center islands. With a little imagination, you could almost see horse-drawn carriages rolling along the shady thoroughfares, men tipping their hats to giggling young ladies in floor-hugging cotton dresses who twirled their parasols.
Whereas many of the neighbors had let their houses succumb to the ravages of aluminum siding and stucco, Ronnie’s parents had scrupulously maintained the spindle work and clapboards and character of their old manse. But I wasn’t there to admire the turrets and wraparound porch, nor was I thrilled at the prospect of squaring off with my sister. I hated when she was right.
Ronnie answered the door. “Come on in. Mir took the kids to the movies, so you don’t have to put on your body armor.”
“She’s right about this, Ron. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in this shit.”
“Well, no, but that sort of doesn’t matter at this point.”
“I guess not, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. My sister tells me the patient’s improved.”
“Improved, but not out of the woods. I flushed the wound and repaired what damage I could find. I have her on pain medication and
“I understand.”
“You’ve got one more day, Moe. Then she’s going straight to the hospital.”
I ignored that. “Where is she?”
“Downstairs in my old room.”
“Is she lucid?”
“Pretty much.”
“Thanks, Ronnie. I’ll call you if I need you.”
“Moe, take it easy on her, and don’t stay too long.”
“Got it.”
It was so odd seeing Carmella Melendez in what was essentially a high school boy’s bedroom. Although she wasn’t particularly tall, she seemed too big for the bed. Maybe that’s the wrong way to put it. She seemed too grown-up for the bed. Her skin was pale, but her breathing was regular and unlabored. Her eyes were shut, so I pulled a chair up and waited.
