Chapter 14

Samantha’s Mustang was in the driveway when I got home. I let myself in, walked back to the bedroom, pushed open the door and saw her in the clock’s luminous glow. She was all curled up, one hip and leg draped over a pillow, her balled fist tucked close under her chin. Smiling, I sat down by the bed to get undressed. As I did that I thought of Marta Vasquez waiting in the dark for her husband to come back to her, and all the women we leave behind on our mad quests. I wonder how a Penelopiad would have told the story. Naked I slid in next to Samantha. She adjusted and then adhered herself to my shape. I kissed the nape of her neck and slid a protective arm around her.

When I awoke the bed was all mine. I wandered into the bathroom, cleaned up, slipped on a pair of shorts and went into the kitchen. Samantha had set out sun-dried tomatoes, cheese and muffins. Coffee was brewing. I went out to the driveway and retrieved the paper. I scanned the paper as I walked back to the house. Page one had the latest communiqué from the Standing Committee on World Justice. They demanded the immediate withdrawal of all our “forces of subversion” in Central America or there would be another summary execution of the “citizen sheep” of this country. A sidebar by Dr. Sumner Barfield, a colleague of Dr. Atherton, analyzed the rhetoric of the decree which equated Central America with Vietnam. Barfield noted that the anti-Vietnam activists had identified the government as the “enemy of the people,” whereas this group had defined the enemy as the people. He concluded that this group was not a homegrown but rather an imported virus. Or words to that effect. Farther down I read that the final death toll in Los Angeles had reached 338—the greatest number of people ever killed in a single terrorist attack anywhere. “There is no safety in numbers or in anything else.” Thank you, James Thurber.

Samantha poured two cups of coffee and brought them with cream and sugar to the table. She took the front page and left me the sports page. The lead story was that many season ticket holders were expected to skip next Sunday’s game. A bomb in the upper deck would collapse the roof overhang, killing thousands in their seats. I folded up the paper and put it aside. It was my turn to use the tickets.

Samantha flirted with me over the rim of her cup, wrinkling her nose, flicking her tongue over her teeth. All she wore was a T-shirt embossed with the marines logo and the words “Looking for a few good men.”

“Hello, stranger,” she said.

“Hello, yourself. It was nice finding you here when I came in.” I sipped my coffee. “No, it was more than nice. It was perfect.”

“I’m glad to hear that. How did your evening go?”

“Not bad. I made a fair bit of progress on this Vasquez case. Tell you something, though. I went by to see Arnie first. He was drunk as a skunk. He’s really hurting too. He started to talk about it but then he threw me out. I’ve never seen him like that before. The walls may be coming down but I’ll tell you I’m not sure what is going to be left standing.”

“God, I’m sorry to hear that. Do you think I could talk to him maybe?”

“I don’t know. You could try. He wasn’t too happy to see me.”

“What are you doing today?” she asked.

“I’m on hold on this case. There are a couple of long shot loose ends I could pursue, but that’s it. If this witness I located last night doesn’t come across on her own, I’ll give her name to Nate Grossbart and see if he wants to drag her ass into court. Maybe we’ll get somewhere that way. Otherwise I’m all yours.”

“Hmmm. That’s an interesting idea.”

I got up to chase her around the table when the phone rang. After the fifth ring I was convinced it wouldn’t go away, so I answered it.

“Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, Mr. Haggerty, but this is Sergeant Sproul. I’d like you to come down to Casualty Hospital. Got something to show you.” After a second’s pause he added, “You aren’t going to make me come looking for you, are ya?”

“Wouldn’t think of it.” I hung up.

“Who was that?” Samantha asked.

“The cop on this case I’ve got says he has something to show me at Casualty Hospital.”

“Do you have to go?”

“He was telling, not asking.” I kissed her brow. “Besides, I’m curious.”

“Can’t I tempt you?”

“God yes, but please don’t. I already don’t want to leave. Don’t make it any harder.”

She frowned. “All right. If I can’t keep you here I’ll go with you.” She slapped my thigh. “Let’s go, Nick, you still have to walk Asta.”

Fifteen minutes later we were on I-66 eastbound. Just before noon we pulled up to Casualty Hospital’s emergency room entrance. An unmarked car complete with magnetic cherry on top was next to the sliding glass doors.

“Samantha, why don’t you wait out here. This isn’t a pretty place to be,” I said as I got out of the car.

“Let me decide what I can handle. I’m not made of china, you know.”

We passed under the electric eye and the doors silently parted and closed behind us. Casualty was well named. Ambulatory schizophrenics sat and conversed with their own private company as they waited for the paddy wagon ride to St. Elizabeth’s. A young black man with a bloody compress over his right eye sat next to a woman who was squeezing and patting his hand. Sproul came around from behind the admitting desk.

“Come here, Haggerty.”

Samantha moved to follow. He held up a palm. “Sorry, this is official police business. You’ll have to wait here.” She stepped back. We walked side by side down the corridor. Sproul was stale with sweat, rumpled and grim.

He pushed open a door. Inside a doctor stood by a bed. He turned to look at us. Beyond, I saw a figure. Most of its face was covered with bandages. There were tubes and lines running out of its arms.

Sproul introduced me with a wave of his arm. “Leo Haggerty. Francine Ky.”

“Jesus Christ. What happened to her?”

“She won’t say. We found your card on her. She’d been dumped in a trash can near Eighth and F. Beat cop found her about an hour ago and had her sent here. So what do you know?”

“I saw her on the street last night. She was going to see her pimp, Eldorado Jack. He was supposedly furious with her about going outlaw on him.”

“Why’d she have your card?”

“I told her I’d help her get away from him if she wanted.”

“Aren’t you the noble one.” Sproul snickered.

“Fuck you, Sproul.”

“Touchy, touchy. What else?”

“I’d heard she was interested in the Donnelly death. I wanted to know why. She never said anything. So I left.”

“Mr. Eldorado Jack probably didn’t like your interest and decided to teach her a lesson.” Sproul shook his head and looked ready to spit a gob of disgust.

“Have you picked him up yet?”

“Are you kidding? I don’t have a complaint. This, this human punching bag”—he waved his hand to dismiss the whole scene—“is afraid he’ll do even worse things to her. So she says she had an accident. His girls wouldn’t pick him out of a lineup if he was the only one in it. I’ve got no complaint, Haggerty, so good-bye. I just thought you might have something we could use.” Sproul turned and walked out.

The doctor pointed to the door. I went out with him. In the hall I grabbed his arm, a little too roughly. He looked at his arm with distaste. “Yes,” he said.

“Sorry. I’m a little jacked up about this. What happened to her?”

“She said she slipped on a wet step and fell.”

“Bullshit. You know what I mean.”

The guy turned to face me and shoved his hands in his smock. “For starters he yanked out four of her teeth. Just repossessing the gold work, I guess. After that I’d say he used a vise grip on her. She’ll never work again, not for him, not for anybody. You catch my meaning? Believe me, you don’t want the details.” He shook his head. “She isn’t the first one of his we’ve seen in here. I’m sure she won’t be the last.”

I watched him walk away, checked the halls and let myself back into Francine Ky’s room. I pulled a chair up next to the bed. Bandages covered her nose and an eye. Her other eye was closed. Her hair was tucked up in a net. I leaned close to her and whispered, “Francine, don’t say anything. Just listen to me. You have my card. When you get out of here, I want you to call me. I’ll see if I can help you out. Do you understand me?”

Nothing. Then a nod. “I want to ask you one question, that’s all. Who asked you to go to the hotel and ask about Malcolm Donnelly? I just want the name and I’ll leave you alone.”

She still hadn’t opened her eye. Her black, swollen tongue peeked out between her battered lips. I leaned closer to hear her, turning my head so that my ear was just above her mouth. “Don’t know name.” The words seeped out like bad air from a played out mine. She swallowed. “Cameron House, 3G.”

I squeezed her arm. “Thanks. You call me when you’re ready to get out.” She turned her head away.

I left Francine Ky in that hospital room with nothing but tubes and monitors for company. Samantha was sitting in the lobby. “What happened?”

“A girl I talked to out on the street got mutilated by her pimp. She’s too scared to press charges against him. Probably with good reason. No witnesses. Her ‘dubious moral stature’ as they say. Jack’ll get three other pimps to swear he was at a Bible class with them. He’d probably walk and if she were around he probably would give her a repeat performance. Fuck, who cares.” I waved my hand at nothing.

I rammed a smile up my face. “However, Sherlock Haggerty did get a lead out of all this. That’s what counts, right? She made her own bed, right? I’m just doing a job, right? Don’t interrupt with an answer, Watson, I’m not in the mood.” I hit the glass doors hard enough to shake the frame and stalked back to the car.

“What next?” she said as we pulled away from the hospital.

“I’ve got a lead to follow. I don’t know where it’s going to go.”

“Okay. I guess my Nora Charles routine is over, huh?”

“Yeah. This is serious business and I don’t want to be worrying about what you’re doing or where you are.”

“Why don’t you drop me at a Metro stop? I’ll catch a train home and get back to work.” She hid her disappointment well, but not perfectly.

“All right.”

“Will you be coming by tonight?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Frankly I doubt it.”

“Call if you know what your plans are going to be. I’ll probably go over later to see Arnie. See how he’s doing.”

I let her out at the nearest stop. She leaned in through the window and blew me a kiss. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Sure. Why do you ask?”

“Because I’ve seen that look before and it worries me. Don’t do anything foolish.”

“Don’t worry. I’m learning my limits every day. ‘Neither a hero nor a fool be.’ Polonius’s advice to Haggerty.”

She shook her head. “Call.”

“Go, you’ll miss your train. I love you.”

She pursed up her mouth, waved and went down the escalator to the platform.