I couldn’t think of a reason to avoid the street. Most days that wouldn’t matter, but today, a late afternoon colorized Cagney shoving grapefruit wasn’t a strong enough bribe to keep me on the couch. I thought about visiting Julie but he’d think me too forward if I threw my arms around his legs and begged for more drugs. Lou was possible, but I didn’t feel too much like a Boychik. Truth was, I didn’t want friends, I wanted out. It just took a while to recognize the feeling.

Two hours’ digging through the White Avengers’ neighborhood had me reconsidering the grapefruit. People were as tight as Phil had promised. As if the neighborhood was the size of Texas rather than a single square mile. Folks acknowledged a rumpus with the Jews, but no one knew anything else. “Too many strangers been here recently,” was as close to an honest response as I got all afternoon. And close wasn’t enough.

Along with the stonewall came the sensation of being watched. I didn’t think it was Cheryl. Everyone I saw, when they weren’t staring at the sidewalk or glancing past my shoulder, snuck little looks. But that just made it difficult to pick out anyone in particular.

Coming up empty meant another visit with Blue and the khaki-clad Avengers. So I kept on trucking. I stopped at bars, sub shops, and hole-in-the-wall variety stores that still sold penny candy and six-packs of tiny wax bottles filled with colored syrup. By the time I finished my quest I’d gained weight, but not an ounce of information.

The sun was gone, the moon still hiding, when I called Simon from a phone booth. I wanted to blow off steam about my useless day, wanted permission to return home. Before I had asked, or even gotten angry, Simon told me that he’d unsuccessfully tried to contact Cheryl. The editor at the small newspaper was frantic because she hadn’t shown up for an appointment. The editor feared her absence was due to her zeal about snooping on the Avengers. Simon thought the man overwrought, assured me she was sleeping off her late night, and suggested I do the same. He promised he’d have Sadie ring her again.

I’d gotten Simon’s permission to crawl back onto my couch, but Cheryl’s no-show refused me mine. Her missed appointment had roused the kind of premonition that, in my life, had all too often been terribly correct. Hurting a young Black woman would not be off-limits to the White Avengers. I trusted my gut. And that meant a surprise visit to Blue.

When I got to the car I opened the door, shielded the interior with my body, and surreptitiously reached under the passenger’s seat. I pulled out the small lead pipe I’d kept in every automobile I’d owned since I was a teenager. The Equalizer.

I lifted a joint from the glove compartment, smoked half, and pointed myself toward Buzz’s. As I walked away from the car I noticed my muscles were bunched, tight with a tense mad.

When I saw them cross the street it took a moment to realize they were coming at me. At first I didn’t recognize anyone since no one wore khaki. Maybe I should have paid more attention earlier to the hairs on the back of my neck. If I had, they wouldn’t have been able to force me into the dark, garbage can filled alley. But once I realized who they were, I wanted to get pinched. Saved me a trip to the bar.

They stopped pushing when my back was flat against a medium sized day-glo orange dumpster. Irrationally, I hoped the bright shine wasn’t fresh paint. I caught the glint of Fang’s golden incisors. I guess he liked to work with his mouth open; easier to drool.

“Blue too much of a man to show up?” I asked, testing their mood. And mine.

“I’m here Mr. Dick-tective.” Blue’s high voice trilled from somewhere in the alley’s shadows. He sounded happy, at home in a familiar environment.

“That’s a new one, Blue. ‘Dick-tective.’ I’ll have to remember it. Maybe I should write it down.”

“You got a fresh mouth for someone whose ass is stuck up against a garbage can. When we’re done with you, you might not be able to write much of anything. Of course, you don’t really have to write, do you?” He stopped, then slipped an excited giggle. “But the mud needs her hands, don’t she?”

I felt the muscles on my arms tighten. The way Fang and friends were spaced I could almost walk out of this. Unless they had a gun. Unless I wanted to stay.

And I did. All the strength I’d been using to repress and deny since the case began was transforming into livid anger. I felt the bile well up in my stomach and into my mouth as I tried to keep control. “What are you trying to tell me, Blue?” My voice was tight with tension.

“I’m telling you you’re a lying asshole. And that mud cunt won’t be writing for a while. That’s what I’m telling you,” he shouted triumphantly.

I slipped my hands carefully to the lead pipe waiting in my pocket. I gritted my teeth. “Jesus, Blue, whacking a woman. I thought better of you. I thought Kelly taught you to be somebody.”

I heard the crunch of gravel but Blue still remained out of view. “Yeah, well I thought better of you too, you lying bastard.” His voice was raw with a lifetime of betrayals. “You work for the fucking Horn who shot Kelly.”

Since I was the latest betrayal, he meant for me to pay for them all. “Who told you that?”

“Don’t start with me, I fucking trusted you.” His words quivered with rage. “You’re nothing but a lying piece of shit.”

He was angry. Big fucking deal. I was angry too. Angry about the betrayals in my own life. Angry enough to feel my heat slipping into a recognizable chill. A chill that had Cheryl’s smile stuck in the center, somehow superimposed over an image of Yakov’s lankiness. Only now the image produced no warmth, no protectiveness—just cold, hard rage.

“Okay, Blue, I work for the Rabbi. So what? According to you, you and your cattle had nothing to do with that. Now why don’t you tell me where the lady is, and we’ll both let bygones be bygones.”

He wasn’t going to let anything be gone, and neither was I.

“How the fuck do I know?” Again he giggled. “Try City Hospital. That’s where they usually take muds.”

My rage took the shape and gleam of a blade. I was sorry I hadn’t brought my gun. “Takes a real tough man to hurt a little girl, huh, Blue?”

“About as tough as it takes to beat on a Judas. I’m tired of all this talking. Give it to the lousy fuck,” he screamed, “hurt him bad!”

They tried. And tried for a very long time. But they tried without guns or knives and eventually were little match for the Equalizer. I was in a frenzy about Cheryl, about Yakov, and whatever else had been preying on me since I first talked to Simon. I enjoyed the thud and crack of lead on bone. Things moved so rapidly I couldn’t see whom I was hurting but at one point Fang started crying and crawling on the ground moaning, “My teeth, my teeth, I gotta find my teeth.” For a fleeting moment I wondered whether I’d panned gold, then stopped wondering and kicked him in the belly.

I didn’t get off free. With five on one, even a stupid five is gonna do damage. I knew I was bleeding, that my face was eating a lot of fist, and someone kung fu’d me in the chest with their boot. I knew my rib was bruised or busted. I thought my nose was broken. Again.

But every time I focused on Cheryl’s bright smile I clubbed harder. If I left them their heads they were going to have serious headaches, I exulted for one delirious, delightful moment. That’s when it registered: I was binging on my own violent hate spree.

And suddenly lost all taste for blood. I was lucky that a couple of uniformed police ran into the alley, or I might have let myself get really trashed. The cops quickly got control of the situation—guns can do that. They barked their orders and lined up everyone who could stand. Everyone, that is, except Blue. He had avoided the Equalizer and disappeared.