He touched the brim of his plastic cap. “Good afternoon, Suzy Q. Are you ladies all right?”
“Nobody’s all right, Officer. Nobody’s all wrong, nobody’s all right. We all of us stuck in the middle.”
He smiled a little. “It’s a hard day for everybody. Can’t I give you a ride to the shelter?”
“We gone through that before, Officer. I don’t want nobody preachin’ at me.”
“You could stand it for a little while. It’s a roof over your head.”
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with my head.”
He held up a hand. “I just don’t want you to get pneumonia again. You remember two years ago?”
“I remember eighty years ago. Don’t you worry about me.”
“She won’t catch pneumonia from exposure,” the beautiful woman said. She touched the old woman’s hand. “But he’s right. You should get out of this rain.”
“You should, too, ma’am. You’re not exactly dressed for this.”
“No.” She startled him by taking off her hair and wringing it out. “What I’m dressed for is getting fucked in the ass.”
“What?”
“People do it,” Suzy Q. said in her defense. “Where you been all these years?”
Rabin swallowed a couple of times. “Sure. But you’re wet. You’re cold and wet.”
The beautiful woman patted her hair into place and favored him with a brilliant smile. “It’s a living. Not the cold and wet. The other.”
“You aren’t a whore, are you?” Suzy Q. said.
“No. No, I’m an actress. And a medical student.” She looked up at Rabin. “No laws broken. I just do cube for the Institute of Sexual Studies here.” Still smiling, she started to cry. “Could you do me a favor? Could you do something with my cat?”
“¿Perdón?”
She pushed the shoebox an inch toward him. “My cat died. He just died, with the president. I don’t know what to do with him. And I don’t want to go to work and I wish it would stop raining.”
He carefully picked up the sodden box. “Sure, don’t worry about it. But will you do something for me?”
“Sure. That’s what I do, is do things for men.”
“Get yourself and Suzy inside somewhere. I don’t want her to die on my shift.”
“Okay. Is that a deal, Suzy?”
“Okay. Let’s get a cuppa coffee.” They headed toward Main Street, the beautiful woman pushing the cart. She wasn’t wearing underwear, and her buttocks clung to the translucent fabric, rolling. Rabin’s heterosexual fraction watched with interest. What would it be like to do that with a woman? Just different scenery, he supposed.
His civilian phone rang. He wiggled it out of his pocket. “Yeah?”
“Qabil, this is Felicity.”
“What?” The dispatcher? Why wasn’t she calling on the shoulder unit?
“I’m downstairs, on the pay phone. Look, you’re friends with Norman Bell.”
“Well, I …
“You’re friends. He and his wife have to disappear right now. I was just up in the boss’s office and he got a call from some FBI guy. The feds are gonna pick them up tonight and take them to Washington for questioning.”
“About what?”
“You didn’t see the cube? Of course not. Look, they’re suspected of being foreign agents. For France or her allies.”
“What bullshit!”
“Yeah, and they know it is. He joked about it; they just want to lock her up and throw away the key. It’s serious, Qabil. A presidential order. From that senile old Indian.”
“Allah. Thanks, Felicity. I’ll call him right away.”