"But he was a good cop…?" Mike let the question trail off.
"Yeah, he was a good cop." Beame lifted his shoulder again. "But somebody popped his bubble."
"But not about work, you'd say?"
"I don't think so." Now it was Beame's fingers beating a little number on the chair arm.
"You got a hypo?" Mike asked finally.
"A hypothetical?"
"Yeah, a theory? This a stranger thing? You know the area."
Beame drummed his fingers, reached into his pants pocket with his other hand, blew his nose on a dirty handkerchief, chewed his gum. "You got anything pointing in that direction?" he asked finally.
"Oh, sure. We got stuff. We got a lot of stuff. You think about it. Call me tomorrow. Okay?"
"Yeah, will do."
Mike left unsatisfied. He felt as if a giant gnat were cruising back and forth in front of his face. That gnat was Internal Affairs, taking this case very seriously. So what? he told himself.
Back in the Camaro and finally shutting down for the day, he punched automatic dial for his home number. The answering machine picked up, telling him no one was available to take his call. He shook his head, feeling uneasy. If April was at her mother's, he was going to be upset. He couldn't help thinking she might not be safe there, but since he'd already shut her out of the case it didn't seem like a good idea to interfere if she wanted to go home.
Seventeen
Gao Wan rented what used to be April's apartment, so April could not go upstairs to sleep in her old bed. There used to be two bedrooms on the second floor. April had made the other bedroom into a living room, but Gao sometimes let a friend stay there for months at a time. A friend was there now, Wei Fong, a dental student. April's old pink tufted sofa was only forty-eight inches long but curved like a bean and was as hard as a board. Wei, who didn't even have enough money to buy a bed, slept in a sleeping bag on the floor.
Downstairs there was just one bedroom, a tiny dining room, living room, kitchen. April made her headquarters on the sofa bed in the living room, where the feng shui was good because the qi could get around easily and she had excellent visibility to all the entrances. Because there were no bars on the open window, her cell phone and gun shared the pillow with her head in case Bernardino's killer knew her address and wanted to finish her off. Despite the lack of real security, however, the qi felt good. She wasn't really worried. It was a quiet night on a quiet block. The whisper of a breeze through the screen was hardly enough to stir the bamboo wind chimes. She felt she was home-in a place of safety where no one could reach or bug her, or tell her what she shouldn't do. Only Skinny, and Skinny was too busy mumbling her healing mantras and brewing her fake medicine.
Worm daughter's old boss had been killed for nothing. Just showed how no-good the job was. That was Skinny's take on the situation.
April fell asleep and stayed that way until noon, right through the constantly ringing telephone. Unlike the day before, when she'd been full of anxiety in the hospital, on Friday morning she had no question about who or where she was. Steam from an infusion boiling in an electric teakettle on a table nearby filled the air with the familiar aroma of eucalyptus and other chest-opening flora and fauna. In the dining room incense was burning on the altar that was permanently decorated with Buddhas and other gods in varying sizes that sat on plastic lotus blossoms and were surrounded by the usual colorful symbolic adornments in red and gold. The smells were conflicting and strong, but the qi was still very good. April stretched, and before the sleep was gone from her eyes, Skinny padded in with a cup of hot water.
"Ni xingle ma?" Are you awake? Then in English, "Mike called last night. Want to know you okay."
April sat up. She wanted to ask if he was mad, but she put up her hand at the sight of the dreaded cup.
"Drink. Don't say anything." Skinny muttered a little Chinese murabo jumbo to speed the healing process.
April inhaled and exhaled a few times, drank the hot water, and did not say a thing.
"Better?"
April wasn't going to say.
Skinny frowned pointedly at the gun and cell phone on the pillow. She wasn't going to elaborate about Mike. She went away for a few minutes, then returned with the nuclear weapon, a large cup of something in which April hoped lovely golden ginger juice would be the primary ingredient. Shinny shoved it into her face. Just off the boil, the liquid fumed disgusting vapor up her nose. She flinched. Eeww. This pungent brew was greenish brown and smelled as if it had snake bladder or snake liver or deer penis in it- maybe all of the above. It looked like pond scum.
"He, he." Skinny flicked her middle fingers at April, ousting the bad qi. Drink!
April gestured to her dangerous mother to back off.
"He," Skinny intoned ominously.
Okay, okay. But back off She'd drink it without having her nose pinched. April took the cup, closed her eyes, and swallowed quickly. Whoooo. Old memories of many past tortures competed for first place. Scalding the roof of her mouth and throat. Rising gorge trying to expel the boiling liquid. If it came out as vomit, she'd burn her tongue and lips. She clamped her jaw shut to keep it down, then waited with tears squeezing out of her closed eyes for the heat to hit her stomach.
"Hai hao ma?" the Dragon demanded.
Tears course down April's cheeks. Shit. Scalded again.
"Hai hao ma?" Skinny's voice rose with her anxiety.
No, she wasn't okay. April held her breath to contain the agony.
"Ni?" Skinny screamed.
Oh, for God's sake. Hao. April opened her eyes. The room with its canopy of strings was still there. Her panicked mother was only just refraining from punching her back into consciousness. The weeny Dragon looked small and terrified. Typical Skinny, she always forced the medicine down when it was too hot, then got scared because it was too hot.
But April always took it almost boiling because she, like her mother, believed that merely warm wouldn't work. Her throat burned like hell as she crawled out of bed and padded into the bathroom. Then exactly the right heat hit her stomach with a jolt and she felt sick again. The downstairs bathroom was a putrid avocado color that must have been popular back in the 1950s. The floor and wall tiles matched the tub and toilet, and everything was pretty badly cracked and chipped with age. In fifty more years, however, the Woos would never spend a single unnecessary dollar to update.
April assessed herself in the tiny medicine cabinet mirror. Shit. The bruises on her neck were still a deep and ugly purple, not even beginning to yellow around the edges. Through her tangled hair, she could feel the lump on her head, still huge and tender. Scabs were beginning to form on her throbbing knees. They protested when she bent them to sit on the toilet. Oh, yeah, she was just fine.
"Ni, talk to me," Skinny screamed through the door.
April ignored her and took a long hot shower. She was heavily into heat.
"Hao?" the Dragon said anxiously when she emerged.
April made a face and shook her head. First time in her life she had no interest in saying a word. She was ready to listen, but not to talk. She lifted a shoulder. Sorry.
By then it was one o'clock and she was wondering where the world went. No word from Mike yet today. No word from Iriarte. She was a little annoyed. She pointed to the telephone, and Skinny made as if she didn't understand that April wanted some clarification on her calls. It took her a while to figure out that her cell phone hadn't rung all morning because her mother had turned it off. She checked her messages.