Murray made a face. “This is Chicago, sweetheart, not Minneapolis-he got a standing ovation at last night’s meeting of the County Board. And the campaign funds are still coming in-too many of those contractors owe the old guy too much. They’re not going to jump ship unless he falls below the waterline.”
“Has he backed away from Roz?”
“Same story-she’s just too popular in the Hispanic wards. Boots lets her go he can kiss the Humboldt Park- Logan Square vote good-bye. And don’t forget there’s a sizable Mexican population out in the Mount Prospect area- her support isn’t all in the city.”
“So why did she bother?” I burst out. “Why did she care what I did or who I talked to? That’s what burns me. The way people were carrying on I thought she was sitting on bigamy or illegitimate children tucked in an orphanage. Turns out it was just business as usual in this town. I’m sick to death of it, but it’s so goddamn usual, why did she think it would matter?”
Murray shrugged his massive shoulders. “Maybe she felt vulnerable. First woman Boots has backed in a big way. First Hispanic. Maybe she was afraid the rules would be different for her. You of all people ought to be able to figure that one out.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Suddenly I was very tired, so tired that I started drifting off to sleep while Murray asked me something about Elena. I tried to answer coherently but he saw I was struggling.
“You go back to bed, kid. Once more Wonder Woman saves the city. Go to sleep.” He patted me on the shoulder and took off, magnanimous because I’d let him garner so much glory.
It was late in the afternoon, after I’d slept a while, that Velma Riter dropped in. When Lotty told me who had come I wanted to dive back under the covers. Instead I staggered to the living room on woolly legs and braced myself for her onslaught.
She stood in the middle of the room twisting a copy of the
“Quite a story you were digging up,” she finally said in a voice like dry soil.
I looked at her warily. “It doesn’t seem to be hurting Roz much. Of course there’s still a month till the election.”
“I don’t know who I’m madder with-Roz for doing all this or you for turning on a sister and making it all public.”
I rubbed my face with the heels of my hands. “I don’t have a pat answer for that, Velma. Does being a feminist mean you have to support
“But talk to her in private, couldn’t you do that?”
“She wouldn’t let me. I tried. She just wants those golden apples too bad, Velma. I’m sure she’ll do a good job. She’ll be better than most, I expect. But she isn’t enough of a risk-taker to try for the apples without getting some worms to help her.”
Velma flung up her arms. “It’s too much. Too much for me, anyway. I should have stayed with photography-it’s safer.”
I looked at her directly. “Velma-your pictures are honest-and they involve a lot of risk-emotional risk, I’d think you’d want that in a woman you came out in public for. Well, I do. And I won’t take it, to be spun around-by
“She didn’t do it for the money, you know,” Velma said.
I made an impatient gesture. “I know-she did it for her cousin, family loyalty, wanting Hispanics to have a bigger piece of county action. Just because her motives were so damned wonderful doesn’t make me like it any better.”
Velma stared at me unblinkingly for a minute. “Well, anyone looking at your body knows you take risks, Warshawski. I’ll give you that. I did resign from her staff today. She-she-” The wide, generous mouth crumpled. “She talked to me so sweet, you’d think that voice was every mother in the world singing a lullaby. That hurt. I had to quit.”
I looked at her and nodded without speaking. She winked back her tears and left abruptly.
48
The Birthday Party
On Saturday, before I took old Mr. Seligman his check, I stopped at a Pontiac dealership on Western and bought myself a bright red Trans Am. I’ve never owned a new car before, especially not one with twin exhausts and 180 horsepower. I didn’t know what I was going to do for money to pay for it, but when it moved up to fifty with just a whisper of gas it seemed like the car I’d been waiting for all my life.
After that I took my time going north and west to Norwood Park. Eileen had decided to go ahead with the party for Bobby. So much planning had gone into it, involving so much of the neighborhood, that she didn’t feel she could turn it off now. The people on either side were lending their yards so there’d be a place for a refreshment tent and for some pipers.
I’d called Eileen to tell her I wasn’t up to seeing Bobby, but she’d begged me to come.
“Vicki, try to understand. Michael is his godson. He was like a seventh child to Bobby and his great hope in the department. He was only yelling at you out of his hurt for Michael.”
“It doesn’t work for me, Eileen. Michael wanted to kill me and he damned near did it. By the time Bobby finished with me I felt he wished it had happened.”
“No, no, don’t ever think such a thing.” Her warm rich voice cracked in distress. “Tony’s child? Gabriella’s? It was himself he wanted to attack, for letting himself be so betrayed. He-Bobby’s a good man, Vicki. A good cop too. You know that. Tony would never have taken him up if he wasn’t. But-he’s not good at thinking through these things, figuring out why he lashed out at you the way he did. He has other strengths, but not that one. I’m asking you-begging you-to understand and be better than him. It would mean so much. Not just to him, but to me. So if you can’t do it for him, will you do it for me?”
And so I found myself ducking under a billboard of Boots Meagher at the corner of Nagle-a smiling year-round fixture proclaiming that “Boots Is Chicago”-and crossing into Bobby’s neighborhood. Bobby’s neighborhood. Michael’s neighborhood. Where my father and uncles and Aunt Elena grew up. Where Boots and Ernie and Ron came from. Where they all grew up together and helped each other out because the one thing you must never forget in Chicago is to look out for your own.
Usually when I cross the invisible line into Norwood Park I feel as though I’ve gone into Munchkin land, a place of tidy tiny bungalows on minuscule well-tended lots. It’s a mirage of a neighborhood-it seems to have nothing to do with the sprawling, graffiti-laden, garbage-ridden city to the southeast.
Today, though, it seemed dead. The October air was gray and the houses looked drab and colorless. Even the bursts of fall flowers in the tidy yards seemed drained of vividness, the bronze mums looking brown, the gold ones merely sickly. I wished I was anywhere in the world but here.
I pulled my new toy into a line with other cars blocking the street. No one would be out ticketing today. I dragged myself slowly up the short drive. Laughter and the sound of bagpipes were coming from the back. A few knots of people had spilled over into the front yard. They smiled and waved at me in the happy camaraderie of a big party and I dutifully waved back.
When I got to the back the crowd was packed into every inch of turf, not just in Eileen’s yard by the two adjacent. A canopy with Bobby’s name done up in lights stood in the middle. I couldn’t see the pipes or anyone I knew. I stood awkwardly on the fringe until Eileen suddenly came from nowhere and pulled me to her large soft breasts.
“Oh, Vicki, oh, it’s so good to see you. Thank you so much for coming. I was afraid… Anyway, Bobby’s over here. He’ll be so pleased-he hasn’t said-but you know…” Tears sparkled on her long black lashes. She took my hand and made her way through the throng to the densest part, where Bobby stood. Beyond him a piper was playing and the crowd was urging Bobby to dance.
