Charlie grinned and patted his chest.
'I'm a connoisseur of beauty, you know? And she was good-looking. Big round ass, nice tits for someone that young. Even in those stupid clothes she was all right.'
'She wore cheap clothes too?'
'Both of them. He was a nothing, a farmer. Give her a makeover, she'd be a fine piece.'
'Tell me what else you know,' said the Chinaman, restraining an urge to slap the little shit.
'That's it.'
'Sure about that?'
Charlie shrugged, took a drag on his cigarette.
'Step on my foot again, Lee. From here on in, anything I tell you will be fairy tales.'
'Ever see this Arab without her?'
'I don't look at boys. Do you?'
The Chinaman lifted his hand. Charlie recoiled, stumbling backward, and the Chinaman caught him before he fell. Lifted him by the scruff, like a rag doll.
'Tsk, tsk,' he said, patting the tent-keeper's face gently. 'Just a love pat.'
'Goto hell, Lee.'
'Shabbat shalom.'
Back on his Vespa, he processed what he'd learned. Charlie's recognition had turned the girl from a picture into someone real. But when you got right down to it he didn't know much more than when he'd started.
She was loose, hung around with an Arab guy, which meant she was probably an Arab. Maybe a Christian- some of them were a little more modern. No way would a Muslim daddy allow his girl out at night, unchaperoned, least of all at The Slave Market.
Unless she was an orphan or a whore.
No one at the orphanages had known her.
A whore, probably. Or an unwanted daughter sold by her family-it was against the law, but some of the poorer families still did it. The girls, unwanted baggage, traded for cash to rich families in Amman or one of the oil states. The real slave market. Charlie had said her clothes were cheap
He kicked in the scooter's engine, flipped it around, drove south around the Old City. Past the Border Patrol jeep, which had stopped for a cigarette break near the Jaffa Gate. Swinging away from the walls, up to Keren Hayesod, zipping through the Rehavya district. Toward his flat on Herzl on the west side of town.
A lead, but pitiful. Good-looking, poor Arab girl with a poor Arab boyfriend. Big deal.
It was too late to knock on any more doors-not that that approach was worth much anyway. A day of it had brought him dumb stares, shakes of the head. Some of them pretending his Arabic was too poor to understand-pure crap; he was plenty fluent. Others simply shrugging. Know-nothing Ahmeds. For all he knew, he'd already talked to the right person and had been lied to.
If she had a family, they should have claimed her.
Probably a whore. But none of the pimps or the street girls knew her. Maybe a rookie. Short career.
Maybe the long-haired boyfriend was the killer, or maybe he was just a guy who'd screwed her once or twice, then went on to something else. Thin, medium-sized, with a mustache. Like saying a guy with two arms, two legs. Nothing worth reporting to Dani.
Yossi Lee, ace investigator. He'd been on his feet for twelve hours, with little to show for it. Had gulped down greasy felafel that sat undigested in his stomach. Aliza had said she'd try to wait up for him, but he knew she'd be sleeping, little Rafi curled in the crib by the bed. Yesterday the kid had said 'apple,' which seemed pretty good for sixteen months. Muscles on him, too; ready for soccer before you knew it. Maybe he'd get a chance to bounce him around a little before hitting the street again. No walk in the park this Saturday, though. Shit.
The wind in his face felt good. He liked the city this way, sweet and empty. As if all of it belonged to him. King Yossi, the Jewish Genghis.
He'd drive around a little more. Give himself time to wind down.
Daniel awoke at three in the morning, troubled by vague remembrances of dark, bloody dreams. Metal through flesh, his hand severed, floating through space, out of reach. Crying like a child, mud-soaked and feeble
He changed positions, hugged the pillow, wrapped himself in the top sheet and tried to relax. But instead, he grew edgier and rolled over again, facing Laura.
She was covered to her chin, breathing shallowly through barely parted lips. A wave of hair fell over one eye; a hint of tapered fingernail extended from beneath the sheet. He touched the nail, brushed away the hair. She stirred, made a throaty, contented sound, and stretched so that the sole of one foot rested on his ankle. He inched closer, kissed her cheeks, her eyes, dry lips tasting faintly of morning.
She smiled in her sleep and he moved up against her and kissed her chin. She opened her eyes, looked at him with confusion, and closed them again. Her body tensed, and she turned away from him. Then her eyes opened again. She mouthed the word oh and wrapped her arms around him.
They embraced, lying on their sides, face to face, kissing, nuzzling, rocking in a tangle of sheets. She raised one leg and rested it on his thigh, took him and guided him inside of her. They made love that way, slowly, sleepily, until climax brought them wide awake.
Afterward, they lay connected for a while. Then Laura said, 'Daniel? I'm thirsty,' with mischief in her voice.
