“Okay, I’m outta my patch,” Ronnie says, but she’s down to bluster now. “But I know plenty of local guys who will run a search for me. Let me see Evelyn and that’s the end of it. Why won’t you do that one simple thing? Makes me suspicious, lady.”
Edit gets right up in Ronelle’s face and I don’t know two other guys who would have the town halls to do that.
“I do not care one tiny tad about how you feel, Deacon. Why do you not take your blackmailing associate and go back to your Jersey neighborhood where I am sure there are cats that need rescuing.”
Tiny tad? Who says that? Immigrants from Sweden.
Ronnie plants her hands on her hips and I see that maybe I won’t be the one to pop Edit. “Yeah, well maybe you gotta few cats of your own that need rescuing.”
That doesn’t even make any sense. Ronnie is going down in flames.
The door opens and a lady walks in.
“What’s all the noise about, Edit?”
It takes me a second to realize that the lady is Evelyn, but not the same Ev that I dropped off. She’s different. Calmer. There are cosmetic changes too. Her hair is cut short in one of those fashionable bobs that looks like someone hacked it out of the back of her head with a tomahawk but actually costs a fortune. Her brows are shaped and her skin glows like Vaseline. She’s wearing a plush white robe and cloth sandals but I can smell the fresh booze on her from six feet away. So, not a totally new model. They musta had stylists working on her while she slept.
I can’t stay out of this anymore.
“Ev, you don’t have to stay here.”
Evelyn looks surprised to see me, like it’s been years and she can’t believe how much I’ve changed.
“Danny. Dan. You look good.” Her voice is lighter, less grit and 100 percent Manhattan penthouse.
“Since last night, you mean?”
“Was it only last night? Seems like a lifetime ago, so much has happened.”
Edit places her body between Evelyn and me, shielding her, touching her elbow.
“Don’t get anxious, Evelyn. Daniel is just leaving.”
Ronelle gets to the heart of the matter.
“Evelyn. Miss Costello, are you okay?”
My aunt doesn’t try to act, just sticks to her lines. “Of course I’m okay. I’m home now. I’ve made a few mistakes but with Edit’s help, I can get through this challenging time.”
Ronelle looks Evelyn up and down. “You know something, McEvoy? Appears to me like this lady has already been saved.”
I can see where this is going, but I have to try.
“Ev, all of this is nothing. This is bricks and mortar. Edit tried to have me killed.”
I see the old Evelyn for a moment, like a flash from a sniper’s scope but then the robot is back: “Daniel. What a horrible thing to say. Edit is my salvation.”
What a nice setup, all ready for the spike.
“And you are mine,” says Edit, squeezing Evelyn’s hand, which was probably soaked in paraffin before the French polish was applied.
Boom. Case closed. We are done.
For the sake of my mother, I gotta give it one last try. “Ev, you’re being manipulated, don’t you realize? Edit needs access to your fund so she’s gonna keep you up here, topped up with the best booze until you’re broke. Then it’s back down into the gutter for you.”
Ev walks deliberately to the drinks cabinet and pours herself enough scotch to marinade a pig.
“I’ve been in the gutter, Danny, and I’ve decided I don’t want to go back. Edit and I have an arrangement. I am investing in a few beleaguered companies in return for a twenty percent share holding in the Costello corporation.”
Shit. Beleaguered? I bet she hasn’t used that word in a while. Well, she might’ve lain down in her Motel 6 room one evening and said: After all that Thunderbird one’s liver is a little beleaguered.
“You don’t care that she tried to kill me?”
“I do care, Daniel. Of course I care. But I’m afraid it simply can’t be true. We all know how you’ve been since the army. You see things. You talk to yourself. Have you considered that you might be suffering from PTSD?”
That’s it. The final nail. I am thoroughly disgusted with my last relative.
“Okay, whatever. You two deserve each other. Paddy would be so proud.”
Evelyn downs half of her drink in one go. She’s gonna love living up here. A never-ending supply of top-quality booze and she doesn’t even have to resort to light hooking.
“Come on, Ronnie,” I say. “This lady is beyond helping.”
Ronnie is not ready to go yet. She pulls out her phone and snaps off a couple of shots of Edit and Evelyn.
“You guys are all smug and victorious right now, but I’m gonna find Fortz and Krieger and link them back to you. I’m betting you used these guys before, back when they worked outta the city. And if you can do me a favor and have Daniel killed, that would make my case a whole lot easier to build.”
Edit and Ronnie lock eyes. Message sent; message received. I think Ronelle Deacon may have just saved my life.
I get little maudlin in the elevator.
What is wrong with people? Why would Evelyn choose the dark side? Didn’t the boob lectures and the icepick plot mean anything to her? I guess maybe they did at the time but that was then and this ain’t then.
Young Evelyn, the sherry thief, hadn’t yet spent a few years rolling downhill, crashing through class fences, coming to rest in the shelters and hovels of America’s great un-sober.
I feel myself getting sucked into a mood. After what Ronnie did for me up there, she doesn’t deserve the silent treatment.
“Sorry to clam up on you, Ronnie. You did a good thing up there. Thanks.”
“Huh?” says Ronnie, looking up from her phone. “I was checking my mail. You say anything worth listening to?”
I guess I didn’t. “No. Just, you know, talking.”
Ronnie pockets the phone. “Well, the good news for you is that they found the site you were to be torture-porned on, complete with teaser video. That puts you in the clear. Ain’t a jury on Earth would convict a man for bitch beatin’ two sickbags who kidnapped him for a snuff shoot.”
“So, I’m free to go?”
“Yeah-ish. You still gotta come in for questioning but it ain’t so urgent. Maybe you want to take a long shower first.”
For about ten years. “I got a car here so I’ll see you back in Cloisters?”
Ronnie gets out at the lobby, but holds the door.
“What I said up there, about you being dead helping me build a case.”
“I remember.”
“Well, it’s true, but I’m thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be worth it.”
The golden doors slide across and I see my own reflection looking dumb and defeated. I notice that the elevator panel has two close-doors buttons but no keep-doors-open button, which is a little strange. Maybe rich folk are generally in a hurry. Faces don’t glycolically peel themselves, I suppose.
Well, it’s true, but I’m thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be worth it.
I think that’s the nicest thing Ronnie has ever said to me.
The elevator dings for the parking level and I wedge an old video-store card into the runner to prevent the door from closing.
It’s puerile I know, but I am desperate for the fleeting heart balm of lighthearted mischief.
Mom and Ev.
Dead.
To me.
On the bright side I have a Cadillac packed with cash that Freckles ain’t gonna have much use for where he’s parked.
CHAPTER 9
THE CADDY IS IN THE PARKING GARAGE WHERE I LEFT IT WITH the starter fob two inches inside the exhaust pipe. I don’t know why I decided to hide the keys here, maybe my subconscious figured Edit out before I did. I fish the fob out of there and sit in the car for a while, just being cradled by the leather seats. Those plush leather seats are pretty darn comfortable and I want to take a minute just to appreciate, to enjoy something, even if it is the stolen car of a guy I just saw cut in half underwater. I got stuff to do, I know that, but some kind of news must be leaking through to Mike by now. He must know that the Masterpiece gambit pretty much played out exactly as he’d hoped. So why not let him enjoy his smugness a little longer while I sit here and stroke the soft kid leather.