Seattle Noir

She smirked. “A stepladder and delusions of grandeur.”

“He says you’re trying to poison him.”

She eased off on the door. My shoe unfolded. “What if I am?”

Took me a second to recover my jaw. “You’re not even gonna deny it?”

“Why should I? The world would be a better place without that little worm.”

She turned and walked back into the restaurant, leaving me standing in the doorway as the steady rain beat itself to death on the awning. I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.

She skirted the counter and made her way back by the meat slicer. “I asked him for a get.” She switched the slicer on. “He laughed in my face.” She could tell I was confused. “A get’s an orthodox Jewish divorce.”

“So? Get going. Get lost. Get down the road. No need to kill the guy.”

“And give up everything? My business… my children… my standing in the community.” She waved the whole idea off. “Not a chance. I’d be an outcast, a pariah.” She shook her head slowly. I opened my mouth but she cut me off. “If I was trying to kill that maggot, he’d be long dead.”

She pulled what appeared to be a roast beef from the refrigerated display case and plopped it down onto the slicer. I watched as she made an adjustment and began to slice.

“He says you’ve been feeding him an algicide or something.”

She glanced up at the big fish tank and smiled. “I was just trying to get his attention.” She returned the meat to the case. “I figured a couple of days in the can might help him see his way clear.” She produced a block of cheese, separated several slices. “Besides…” she said, gesturing at the tank, “the fish don’t seem to mind that stuff at all.”

“So you figured…”

She took a bite from the sandwich and grinned again. “I figured what was good for pond scum was probably good for my husband.”

I took a deep breath. “All he wants you to do is stop.”

She lifted an enormous knife from the counter.

“Fat chance,” she said around a mouthful. She waved the blade as she spoke. “What he wants… Mr…”

“Malloy,” I said.

“What he wants, Mr. Malloy, is for me to come back and take care of him…” she sliced air with the scimitar, “clean the house… take care of the kids…”

I started to speak, but she cut me off again. “And what you want… Mr. Malloy, is that 2,500 bucks he offers every damn fool he can get to come out here and bother me.”

I felt the color rising in my cheeks. I started to protest.

“So what’s your story, Mr. Malloy? How did he talk you into this fool’s errand?”

I’d have objected but I was busy asking myself the same question.

“You behind on your alimony payments? You need to pay your lawyer?” Her voice began to rise. “Or did you just go to school on the short bus?”

My mouth moved but nothing came out.

She held up a restraining hand… went right to unctuous. “Here I am being rude,” she said. “Eating in front of guests. Can I make you a little something. A nice brisket sandwich or something? A little coleslaw maybe?”

My stomach did a series of back flips. “I’ll pass,” I replied.

Her face said that was what she figured. “You go back and tell that bottom feeder that either I get my get or he can spend the rest of his life sleeping on the couch with one eye open and eating take-out Chinese.”

She used the remains of the sandwich to point the way out. “Now take yourself back out of here. I’m going to close up.”

I opened my mouth again, but once more she beat me to the punch. “You tell him… you tell him… either I get my get or I’m going to spend the rest of my life making his existence as miserable as humanly possible.” She swallowed the remainder of the sandwich and then licked her fingers and showed her teeth. “Till death do us part.”

“Listen…” I stammered.

She picked up the knife and started back around the counter. I reached behind me and took hold of the door handle. “Easy now,” I whispered.

“Easy my ass,” she spat. She came forward, holding the knife low, making a sawing motion as she moved my way. Parts of me contracted like a dying star. I pulled open the door. She kept coming. I stepped outside and closed the door. Rain drummed the awning.

She locked the door with a smile. I’d seen that smile before. On the Discovery Channel. Shark Week. The neon OPEN sign went out.

He was still at the desk with the roll of bills at his elbow. He waited until I picked up the money to look at me. His facial features seemed to be having a meeting in the middle of his face. “You did it?” he asked.

The wad was warm in my hand. I shook my head, removed the rubber bands, and peeled off two hundred bucks.

“I’m taking two hundred for my per diem and for the aggravation.”

“Guess you weren’t as hard a guy as they said.”

“If I had to go against her every day, I’d be in the storm door and aluminum siding business.”

“So what is it I get for my two hundred bucks?” he asked.

I pocketed the bills. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” I said as I wrapped the rubber bands around the pile of money. “You’re not giving her a get…no matter what. Is that right?”

“You’re a quick study, you are.”

I cleared my throat. “And you plan on staying married to that woman and living in the same house with her.”

He nodded.

“Well then… I guess what you get for your two hundred bucks is a piece of advice.”

“Such as?”

“If… you know… sometime in the future… you think maybe she’s trying to slip you something… a little more of that algicide or something…”

“Yeah?”

I dropped the wad onto the desk. It bounced.

“Take the poison,” I said, and headed for the door.

ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTORS

KATHLEEN ALCALA is the author of a story collection, Mrs. Vargas and the Dead Naturalist; three novels set in nineteenth-century Mexico: Spirits of the Ordinary, The Flower in the Skull, and Treasures in Heaven; and a collection of essays, The Desert Remembers My Name. A cofounder of and contributing editor to the Raven Chronicles, Alcala has been a writer in residence at Seattle University and the University of New Mexico. She teaches in the Northwest Institute of Literary Arts on Whidbey Island.

CURT COLBERT is the author of the Jake Rossiter & Miss Jenkins mysteries, a series of hardboiled, private detective novels set in 1940s Seattle. The first book, Rat City, was nominated for a Shamus Award in 2001. A Seattle native, Colbert is also a poet and an avid history buff. He is currently finishing the fourth book in the series,