guy.”
“Yeah, well,” said Gary.
The thing was, if the other gang had killed Eldon, why didn’t Gary want to launch some sort of counterattack? Even Payne and the others were puzzling over that one. “It’s time to be reasonable,” Gary said. “We need to come to some sort of a whatchamacallit, an accommodation.”
Accommodation my ass, Miranda thought.
She could have gone to the cops with her suspicions. That detective, Cherry was his name, he’d been around asking questions, but he didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. She could talk to him, tell him, Yeah, Gary did that other guy, but he did Eldon too, because he was getting too uppity, too big for his britches. Followed him around until he could do him the same way he did Grant Delmonico.
She could have done that. She could have gone to the cops.
But she decided not to. She decided on another course of action.
The tough part would be pretending to get over it. Pretending to believe Gary’s version of events. Pretending to accept Gary’s argument that retaliation was not the wisest course of action.
Pretending to go along.
But you did what you had to do.
So she kept on working at the Kickstart. Managing the money. The legit and the not so legit. Moving it here, moving it there.
Moving it to a few new places.
It wasn’t even all that difficult. Phony invoices worked best. You drew up a fake bill, you paid it. Except the fake company didn’t exactly have a bank account. But you did.
Once she had enough, she’d be gone. Just wouldn’t come to work one day. She’d take Katie and off they’d go, with more than enough cash to start new lives, with new names, in a new location.
She was doing it for Katie.
This was no kind of world in which to raise a little girl. In a world full of drugs and strippers and hookers and bikers who shoved people into the front of trains. She was going to get out.
And when she did, she was going to rip off this miserable fucker for everything she could.
Except one night, before she had all that she needed, there was a problem. A situation that made it very difficult to go on pretending.
It was after hours at the Kickstart. Katie was with the sitter. Miranda was counting receipts from the night, doing what she always did. And working some new financial magic, shaving off a bit of money into this account here, that account there. Gary, he couldn’t count his own fingers and toes if his life depended on it.
They’re all in the upstairs office, Miranda at her computer, the guys sitting around drinking. The girls-not just the strippers and waitresses from downstairs, but the ones giving blowjobs upstairs as well-have all gone home.
Eldridge and Zane, they’re drunk. Payne’s catching up. Gary’s there too, and his dimwitted friend Leo, the one he treats like a little brother. All a bit giddy. Made a lot of money tonight. There’s piles of cash on the tables. Some obscure Doobie Brothers song, “I Cheat the Hangman,” playing on the radio.
Payne comes over and grabs her by the arm, pulls her out of the chair, starts dancing with her. She says, “No thanks, really,” but then he’s got her pushed up against the wall, his mouth pressed up against her ear, saying, “It must be tough, huh, Candy? Eldon gone, no one to meet your needs,” and then everyone’s hootin’ and hollerin’ and turning up the music and then she’s on the floor and she can’t stop them and they’re holding her down and someone says, “Whoa, remember these? Haven’t seen these since you were onstage, what the fuck we got you up here doing the books for?” And they go one after the other, all except Leo, who’s off in the corner, sounds like maybe he’s whimpering, until finally Gary tells him to go downstairs, have a piece of pie or something. The Doobie Brothers sing, “The rain that fell upon my stone, Like tears you cry I shared alone.”
Afterwards, they’re very quiet. Someone says maybe they should get Candy a cab.
The next day, she doesn’t come to work. She hurts.
The day after that, Gary comes by the apartment. She comes to the door holding Katie. He’s got a “Come Back to Work Soon!” card he bought at the drugstore, and there’s cash in the envelope. It’s $110. This is the part Miranda can’t figure out. A hundred, maybe, but what’s the extra ten for?
He says the guys are sorry, they got carried away, but they really need her back soon, you know? She’s so good and all. But if she wants, take an extra day. He won’t dock her pay or anything.
And she goes back.
And works with them.
And pretends to get over it.
Because she’s not done yet.
Not by a long shot.
17
I had a go for liftoff.
I slung the strap of the bag over my shoulder, opened the front door to leave, and came face-to-face with Detective Flint.
He had his fist suspended in midair, or mid-knock, and I guess we both surprised each other, taking half a step back.
“Detective Flint,” I said, catching my breath.
He smiled kindly, lifted his fedora a tenth of an inch in greeting, and set it back on his head. I looked over his shoulder, and there, at the curb, was Trixie’s GF300. A man got out the driver’s side, walked halfway across the yard and tossed the keys to Flint, got into the passenger side of an unmarked car parked in front of it.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“We’re done with it,” he said, tipping his head toward Trixie’s car. “Forensics went over it, didn’t find a thing. She took your wheels, so go ahead and use hers.” He dangled the keys in front of me and I took them warily.
“Thanks,” I said, pocketing them. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”
“Don’t go thinking I made a special trip. I have more questions. First one being, you taking a trip?” His eyes were on my overnight bag.
“Uh, just an overnighter, I suspect,” I said.
“Little vacation?”
“No, it’s for an assignment. An out-of-town assignment, a feature I’m doing,” I said.
Flint nodded. “You mind if I come in?”
“No, of course not,” I said, admitting him to the house and tossing my bag onto the floor as we eased into the small living room at the front of the house. Flint, clearly a man of manners and breeding, took off his hat once inside, and held it in his right hand by the brim.
“What sort of assignment?” he asked.
“Well, actually,” I said, “I can’t really discuss assignments I might be working on for the paper, with the police. I’d have to speak to my editor about that.”
“The reason I’m asking is, it’s my understanding that you’ve been suspended.” He gave me that friendly smile again. I said nothing. “So I don’t understand how you could be going off to do an assignment for the paper if you’re not actually working for the paper at the moment.”
I was starting to sweat. Flint didn’t even have me under the hot lights in an interrogation room yet. I was here in my own home, and I could feel beads of perspiration on my forehead. I could see how bad this looked. Found with a dead guy one day, discovered hitting the road with bag packed the next.
