Angel’s little laugh stops abruptly when a BMW pulls to the curb across the street and the door opens. A man carrying a small gym bag steps out into the rain, dashes the few feet to the Wilson Arms’ entrance way and disappears through the glass doors. The man is hatless and the white bandage above his left ear jumps across the street, as penetrating, in its own way, as the glitter of diamonds on a dowager’s chest.
Angel looks at Carter. He’s staring through the streaked windshield with the cold, blank eyes of a predatory fish. Oh look, dinner.
‘Carter?’
‘Hang on a minute.’
The minute becomes ten, during which Angel considers her options. She likes Carter well enough, and he definitely turns her on. Better yet, the attraction is mutual. But she has to look to the future. Does Carter fit into her plan? Yes, if they’re successful and they split the pot. But how does she know he’ll pay off? And what is she prepared to do if he doesn’t? Is she supposed to trust him? A man with the eyes of a shark? Compared to Carter, Ricky Ditto’s black eyes were touchy-feely.
Carter takes a deep breath. ‘All right,’ he says.
‘What were you looking for?’
‘A light to come on in one of the apartments. That would probably have told us which apartment he went to. No luck, though.’
‘You think, wherever he went, there had to be someone already there?’
‘Not necessarily. He might have gone to an apartment with windows in the back. And it’s not that dark, even with the overcast. He could be making do.’ He turns to look at Angel, his eyes now amused. ‘You were right, Angel. The dearly departed Ricky Ditto was definitely connected to the building.’
Angel’s pleased when Carter’s gaze, as it shifts from her eyes to the van’s windshield, briefly settles on her breasts. She’s unbuttoned the top three buttons of her dowdy blouse, the better to tease him with. Carter likes to be teased, as Angel likes to tease.
‘So, what now?’
‘We need intelligence, and I think I know just the cop to get it from. Meanwhile, we sit.’ Carter drops his hands to his lap. ‘So, you’re on the plaza at Lincoln Center and there are all these rich people ...’
Angel takes a moment. Her story is essentially true, but she wants it to be entertaining as well. ‘I think I was dazzled at first,’ she finally says. ‘But after a while I began to see a pattern that caught my attention. More than half the women were much, much younger than the men, at least twenty years. I saw a lot of men in their fifties with wives in their thirties, and a few in their forties with wives in their twenties, but all of the women had diamond rings – and I’m talkin’ big, Carter – on their left hands.’
Angel holds up her own left hand with its unadorned ring finger. ‘So, like, they troop inside and go up this flight of stairs to the second floor and then down this long promenade. Avery Fisher Hall has two-story floor-to-ceiling windows and I watched the parade for a while. That’s when I realized that some of the women were in their fifties, while the men were really old. I saw two women actually pushing wheelchairs. Amazing, right? But you know what? These women were seeing their husbands into the grave. They were keeping their end of the deal.’
‘The trophy wife deal?’ Carter smiles. ‘That’s what you want, Angel? To be a trophy wife?’
‘Hey, remember those Marilyn Monroe movies, How to Marry a Millionaire and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes?’ Angel shakes her head. ‘Do me a favor, give me the name of a young girl out there who dreams of marrying a poor man. And while you’re at it, show me the twelve-year-old who doesn’t dream of a platinum wedding in the Plaza Hotel. Instead of a K-Mart wedding at the American Legion Hall.’
Carter’s about to concede the point when Ruby Amaroso, still toting the gym bag, exits the Wilson Arms and dashes to his car. When he pulls away from the curb, Carter works his way into the front seat and starts the van.
‘So, what do you think, Angel? Is he bringing money in or taking it out?’
‘Why? Are you going to steal the bag?’
Carter shakes his head. ‘We’re not giving up the element of surprise for an unknown reward. Did Ricky say anything about what he did for a living?’
‘He hinted that he was some kind of gangster.’
‘Gangster covers a lot of ground, but if he was dealing drugs, especially on a wholesale level, he’d have money stashed somewhere, a lot of money. And that stash would most likely be in a place nobody would suspect. But I’m getting ahead of myself. We need more information.’
‘Does that mean you’re going to do it? You’re going to rip them off?’
‘It means I’m real interested.’
Carter turns on to Broadway, giving the BMW plenty of room. He drops his hand to Angel’s knee and runs a finger along the inside of her thigh. She responds by kissing the side of his neck.
‘Tell me more about your gold digger scheme,’ he says. ‘Tell me why you need capital.’
‘OK, my plan is to go to the Caribbean once I have my stake in place – to St Barts or Tobago where you get an international crowd – and open a small art gallery. But suppose I went there broke. How long would I last before I became somebody’s mistress? These men, the ones I’m talking about, they know how to play rough, especially if a girl doesn’t have options. That’s what having your own money really does. It gives you options.’
‘I won’t argue the point, but I have one question. Have you ever considered a plan B?’
‘Which is?’
‘Hard work, education?’
Angel doesn’t respond and they follow the BMW over the Broadway Bridge and into Manhattan. By the time they pass Columbia University, Carter knows exactly where the gangster’s headed. He’s on his way to Angel’s apartment where he finally pulls to the curb beside a fire hydrant and settles in to watch the entrance to her building. Carter drives on past, makes a right on to West End Avenue, then double-parks.
‘What are you going to do?’ Angel asks.
‘Send a message.’
‘A message.’
‘I want to concentrate Bobby Ditto’s attention. I want him to be more worried about his own skin than his money in the Bronx.’
‘Are you going to take the bag?’
‘Absolutely not.’
A car slides away from the curb and Carter pulls the van into the open slot. Angel can almost see the neurons firing away in his brain. Without warning, a single thought grabs her own attention: Get away from this man. Even if you have to sleep in the goddamned subway, even if you have to go home with the first jerk you meet in a corner bar. Carter’s traveling a road that has nothing to do with Angel Tamanaka and her plans for the future.
‘OK, Angel, here’s the way I want it to go down. We circle around the block so that we come up behind him. I want you to walk ahead of me, understand? You walk right past him, turn the corner, jump into the back of the van and stay down. I’ll take care of the rest.’