“I love her,” I said. “She gives me something to care about.”
Millicent stared at me for a while.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” she said, “loving something that doesn’t do anything for you.”
“It certainly doesn’t,” I said. “What size are you? Four?”
“I guess so. My mother always bought all my clothes.”
“Well, I think some of my stuff will fit you. Go take a shower and then we’ll pick out something.”
“Why have I got to shower?” she said.
“Clean is good,” I said. “Especially if you’re going to be wearing my clothes.”
“I don’t want to take a shower.”
I nodded.
“Of course you don’t,” I said. “And up to a point I care about what you want. But we’re past the point. Either take a shower or I’ll drag you in there and hold you under.”
She stared at me. I stared back. Finally she shrugged and got up and walked into the bathroom.
“Shampoo your hair,” I said.
The door closed. I cleaned up her coffee cup and the coffeemaker and gave Rosie a dog biscuit. Then I went and laid out several pairs of jeans and several tee shirts on my bed, so Millicent would feel like she had a choice. She came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her. Her hair was straight and glistening. Her nails were clean. She didn’t look anywhere near fifteen. I gestured at the clothes.
“Pick something,” I said.
She took the first pair of jeans on the bed and the nearest tee shirt.
“You have any underwear?” I said.
“No.”
“Of course not,” I said. “Why would you.”
“I won’t wear yours,” she said.
“That’s right,” I said. “We’ll get you some next time we’re out.”
Chapter 17
We came back from the Chestnut Hill Mall with clothes for Millicent. Rosie was in the backseat looking out the window and gargling at other dogs when she saw them. Millicent was up front with me.
“So where you get the money to buy these clothes?” Millicent said. “Alimony?”
“I don’t get alimony.”
“How come?”
“I don’t want it. There’s no reason he should support me the rest of my life.”
“So how come you can afford to buy me clothes.”
“I do detective work,” I said. “People pay me. Like your parents did.”
“My mother says a woman alone’s got no chance.”
“No more than a fish does,” I said. “Without a bicycle.”
“Huh?”
“Just me amusing myself,” I said.
“Well, I’d take the alimony,” Millicent said.
“Alimony destroys any kind of relationship people might have,” I said.
“Well, you’re divorced, aren’t you?”
“It doesn’t mean we hate each other,” I said. “If there were alimony, eventually we would.”
“So how come you got a divorce if you don’t hate each other?”
“We’re still working on that one,” I said.
When we pulled up in front of my loft we found a long silver Mercedes Benz parked on the curb. Junior and Ty-Bop were outside, Junior leaning on the fender, Ty-Bop fidgeting on the sidewalk by my front door.
“Who are those colored guys?” Millicent said.
“The big one’s name is Junior,” I said. “The little one is Ty-Bop. The man in the car will be Tony Marcus.”
“Who’s he?”
“Runs the prostitution around here,” I said. “He used to be your boss.”
“What do they want?”
Millicent was very much less bellicose than she had been. She seemed to be getting smaller as she looked at Junior and Ty-Bop. Her shoulders hunched.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“They want me?”
“Tony helped me find you,” I said.
“Let’s drive away.”
“Tony wants to talk, he’ll talk,” I said. “Now or later. May as well be now.”
“I don’t want to talk.”
“You don’t have to,” I said. “You stay here with Rosie. I’ll see what he wants.”
“I don’t want you to go,” Millicent said.
I smiled at her.
“I’ll talk with Tony. We don’t want Junior to come over and bite one of the doors off.”
I got out and closed the door and walked over to the Mercedes. The back door opened and Tony Marcus stepped out, looking elegant in a pinstripe suit and a pin collar shirt. His neck was a little soft, as if he’d become so successful he didn’t need to be muscular anymore.
“We need to talk, Sunny Randall,” Tony said.
“Sure,” I said.
Tony looked at my car.
“Got the little hooker, I see,” Tony said.
“Yes.”
“What’s that thing in there with her?” Tony said.
“My dog, Rosie.”
“That’s a dog?”
“Yes.”
Tony offered his arm.
“Walk along with me a little, Sunny Randall.”
I took his arm and we walked slowly east in front of my building. Junior and Ty-Bop followed us.
“I wondered how quick you’d find her,” Tony said.
“I know.”
“And I wondered how you’d deal with my man Pharaoh, when you did find her.”
“I know.”
“Got to say this for you, Sunny Randall,” Tony said. “You done pretty good.”
“Yes,” I said.
“Like to have seen it,” Tony said. “You sticking a gun up Pharaoh’s nose and taking one of his whores away.”
Tony laughed softly. It was a surprisingly high laugh, almost a giggle.
“He told you about it?” I said.
“Hell no,” Tony said. “Some of the other girls saw it. I keep track of shit.”
We walked a few steps further in silence. At the end of my building Tony turned with my hand still on his arm, and we began to walk back. However his neck may have softened, his arm was strong. Ty-Bop and Junior let us pass and fell in behind us again.
“I got no problem with it,” Tony said. “My pimps can’t hang on to their whores, I find me somebody that can.”
“I’m just helping you with quality control,” I said.
“Sure you are, Sunny Randall. Problem is that somebody else looking for that little whore, too.”
We walked. I waited.
“You quiet for a broad, Sunny Randall.”
“And you’re not,” I said. “Who’s looking for her.”
Tony was laughing his high, soft laugh again.
“Goddamn,” he said. “‘And you’re not.’ Goddamn. Sunny Randall, you crack me up.”
“I know, sometimes I nearly overwhelm myself. Who’s looking for her?”
“Some Irish guys,” Tony said. “Came by to see Pharaoh, said they was looking for the little whore. We talking pop-u-larity, here. First you, then the two Irish guys.”
“I’m a trendsetter,” I said.
“So Pharaoh don’t want to say that some pretty little blond chick come along and took her away from him, so he say he don’t know where she is and the two Irish guys don’t believe it, so they beat up on Pharaoh till he tell them what happen.”
“And?”
“And he tole them. He maybe dress it up a little so he don’t look like a fucking doofus, which he is, and he don’t tell them your name because he say he don’t remember it. He tell them some female detective come and took his new little whore.”
“Who are these guys?”
“Don’t know.”
“You sure they want Millicent?”
“Millicent Patton, they said.”
“You know why?”
“Pharaoh didn’t ask. They didn’t say.”
I nodded. We reached the other end of my building and Tony turned again.
“Do you believe Pharaoh?” I said.
“Junior helped me talk to him,” Tony said. “Pharaoh not doing no lying to me and Junior.”