Madaline took all of me in with one sweep of her eyes, started a laugh, then stifled it behind a grin. “All you need is a cutlass to look like Blackboard,” she said.
“His name was Teach. Captain Teach.”
“Okay, brains. But you sure do take a big mouthful.” I yanked the chicken down and closed the door behind her. She took one look around and shook her head in disgust. “So this is how a cop lives,” she said. “Can’t you afford any better?”
“I’m not on the take, Mad. It’s okay when it’s clean. Who needs more?”
“You do. Why didn’t you ever get married?”
“I sort of forgot to. Now who would have me?”
She smiled again, pulled up a chair at the table and reached for the other half of the chicken, pulling it apart delicately. “How much money have you got in the bank?”
“About twenty-two hundred bucks.”
“Your life savings,” she stated. “Get a woman who needs it.”
“Forget it, kid. When I get a woman it’s because she needs me and I need her. I still like the old-fashioned relationship.” I poured her some coffee too, then sat back down again. “I didn’t expect company.”
“You said to call.”
“There’s a phone.”
“Quit being so damn proud. Nobody recognized me. Your reputation is still intact... and enhanced if anybody did see me come in. How often do you get a broad in diamonds and minks into this garret, anyway?”
“Not more than twice a week.”
“Sure,” she laughed. “The chicken’s good.” Through a mouthful she added, “I have news again.”
I sipped at my coffee, watching her. Something had changed in her eyes.
“There’s a Jane Doe who had known Mildred Swiss since she came here. Both came from Europe and wound up in the same business. She saw Mildred the day she died... about noon time. They chatted for ten minutes on the street, walked a few blocks together and during that time Mildred gave the impression that she was going away for a trip. She was planning on an extensive wardrobe and couldn’t help rubbing it in a little.”
“She say who with?”
“As I said, it was a hint... an impression the girl got. She was elated, talked amiably, but that was all.”
“Who was the girl? If she was the last one to see her alive the police...”
“I said she was a Jane Doe, remember? This is off the record, Regan.”
“What’s the rest of it?”
She took another bite of chicken and threw the bone down on the wrapping paper. “You’re a shrewd one, Patrick. The Jane Doe wanted to talk more, but Mildred didn’t have time. She was getting ready for a date.”
“With a killer.”
“Quite possible.”
I put my cup down and tilted back in the chair. “Sooner or later something happens to most of them,” I said. “Doesn’t it make you sick? You’re in the racket up to your pretty neck.”
A cloud seemed to pass over her face and she looked down at her hands. When she decided to look up she said, “Then let me give you the answer I never gave anybody else. Yes, I’m in it. I went into it with my eyes open because it was the only answer to feeding an old man who was an alcoholic, paying medical expenses for an invalid mother and supplying the needs of seven other kids in the family. It was a deliberate move and I knew the right person to set me up.”
“You could have gotten out. You did change the nature of the business.”
“There was one thing that didn’t change. I saw what happened to too many girls. I saw where they went and how they ended up. By keeping my hand in I was able to direct more of them out of it in time. Oh, hell, Regan... I know what you’re thinking. I was still involved, but I got to know the right people and had enough going for me so that I could kill any heat that landed on the kids who got to know too much. There are those who say prostitution is better controlled. Funny enough, I’m not one. I’d like it abolished, but as long as the damn public demands it the authorities accept it and the bastards behind the scene control it, I’ll stay in where I can do some good when the time comes. That’s my story, buy it or not.”
“I’ll buy it Mad,” I told her. “It might not be my way, but I’ll buy it.”
She reached over and put her hand on mine. “Thanks, Patrick. I was hoping you would.” Her hand was warm, the pressure gentle and it was like the time she had thanked me silently in school when I came in chopped up after the fight, when she had done the same thing when I was at my desk and nothing more. It had been enough for me then. “Now... will you do me a favor?”
“Sure...what?”
“Let me clean up this fleabag.”
I grinned at her. “Be my guest.”
Downstairs I picked up two six packs of beer and brought them up and was content to sit there and watch the incredible efficiency of a woman used to service and attention doing the dirty work I could hardly face up to myself. She seemed to enjoy it, too, humming snatches of songs from the war years, laughing at the little things I said, content to let me sit and think while she let the years of luxury wash off her so that she was a kid again.
When she turned around her face was flushed, shiny with beads of sweat and her eyes were bright with living. The place was clean, too. She brushed away a wisp of hair that had fallen across her face, looking more lovely and younger than I had ever seen her.
“Better?”
“Perfect, doll, perfect. Do I pay you day wages?”
“A shower will do. I feel like a mess.”
“You look good to me.”
She grinned. “You’re just saying that because it’s true. Put some more coffee on.”
While I filled the percolator I heard the shower running. I had a crazy warm feeling I never had before, like being part of something nice, something I never knew I wanted before.
The pot stopped bubbling as the light blinked red and I was pouring two cups when she came out of the bathroom. Someplace she had dug out my big old beach towel and had it draped around her like a sarong, another wound around her head turban fashion. She smelled of soap, and warmth radiated from her. One lithe leg jutted from the slit where the towel was knotted at her hip, the flesh firm and silky smooth, still showing a summer tan, the graceful curves swelling from a full calf into a thigh that blossomed with muscular maturity. The top of the towel was reluctant to conceal her breasts, trying to hold fast while each breath made it slip from its position until she almost swelled out of it.
We stood like that for what seemed a long time, looking at each other, seeing all without ever breaking that single, intense stare. Years ago it had happened too. We were young then, unaware of what was happening, knowing something had changed without being able to name it.
The first step we took together, touched with mutual desire, then her mouth was a rich, ripe furnace that melted into mine with a low moan of something too long suppressed and she pressed against me, her body feeling for every inch of me. The thrust of her body burst the tie of the knot in the towel and it dropped unnoticed at our feet, then I had all the womanly texture of her in my arms, under my hands, taking everything she was offering.
I picked her up, deliberately stopped at the threshold of the bedroom door where she smiled up at me with the dreamy eyes of a bride, then crossed to the bed and laid her down gently.
Outside the noise of traffic dimmed and a slow rain began to beat against the window. Thunder rumbled across the roof of the city and the soft yellow of heat lightning brightened the room momentarily every once in a while. It was only when the wind shifted and the rain slanted in the half open window and sprinkled across the bed did we notice it. Unconsciously, I looked at my watch. Three hours had gone by.