Mistress Kareema snorted. "She turns him to tapioca. That's why he rents little Alma here, isn't it, kitten?" Alma nodded assent and sat on the edge of Kareema's stool. Kareema gave Alma's flax-colored thigh an affectionate catlike scratch with her long salmon nails.
"They're all scared of women," Alma said. "All of them except Toby. Toby really hates us." She looked down at her right hand. Its thumb was unnaturally crooked. "You're not a friend of his, are you?"
"If I were, I wouldn't have cold-cocked William, would I? I thought he was Toby."
"That's right," she said gravely. "You did. I wish he had been. I would have liked to see that. The sonofabitch." Wrapped in her little-girl voice, the words were startling.
"You still haven't really said why you're here," Mistress Kareema cut in.
"Well, I'm not a hundred percent sure. I really don't think Toby murdered that girl. He's got a good alibi."
"Murdered?" Alma said. Her eyes were huge.
"Later, sugar," Kareema said. "What sort?"
"Someone was with him. She swears he never got out of her sight. And someone else saw the dead girl get out of their car."
"Shit," Kareema said. "That's what I'd really like. Murder one is what he deserves." Unconsciously she reached over and caressed Alma's right thumb.
"I just want to know everything I can about him. I feel like I'm driving blind, and I don't like it."
"He's a gold-plated dipstick," Mistress Kareema said. "He'll never find his own level because nobody can go that low. What happens here, someone like William, it's mostly theater. The whip is just silk. But Toby likes the blood to be real, and he likes lots of it. Alma's his type. She looks like a baby, talks like a baby. When she really gets hurt she cries. We get a lot of guys in here, they ought to be seeing a shrink. Hell, we even get shrinks. . "
"Doctors are the kinkiest of all," Alma put in. "There's one doctor, a dentist, really-"
"But Toby's the sickest," Kareema said, waving away the digression. "He's running on pure hate, and what he hates is girls."
"He hates us something awful," Alma said. "After he broke my thumb, you know what he said? He said, 'It's okay, honey, you can pick your nose with the other hand.' And then he tried to do my other hand."
"What did you do?" I was fascinated in a horrid sort of way.
"I kicked him in the balls," Alma said in her ten-year-old's voice. "He didn't even feel it at first because he was having so much fun. He kept coming after me. Then he felt it, and he fell down. He was screaming that he was going to kill me. Since he was lying down I kicked him again."
"Too bad he's only got two," I said.
"His face got all red, and he was spitting at me. I was trying to get the door to his trailer open, but I couldn't figure out how to work it, it's not a regular doorknob, you know? And he got up and he was coming toward me, and I finally got it open. I fell down the steps into the dirt. Some man, the man who had hired me, grabbed me and pulled me away and into his car."
"That's your reference," Kareema said. "Dixie."
"Whoever he was, he didn't care dirt about me," Alma said. "I kept telling him about my thumb because I couldn't move it and it looked like it was on all backward, but he just told me to shut up, everything was okay now, and to stay in the car and not make trouble. Then he went into the trailer. After about ten minutes he came out and said not to worry, Toby was sorry. Then he had somebody else take me to the hospital."
"Toby was sorry," I said.
"Yeah, like that was supposed to make everything all right. Jeez, what a weirdo." Kareema gave Alma a pat on the wrist. "That's who you're protecting," she said.
"Did he call here afterward? Did he seem ashamed of himself?"
She looked surprised. "Five or six times. He kept asking for Alma, saying he wanted her to forgive him. Finally I let him talk to her. Tell the man what happened, kitten."
"He cried," Alma said. "He really cried."
"He always does," I put in.
"Then, the next day I got an envelope. It had five thousand dollars in it, all in twenties and fifties. And this card, like a Valentine's card, with all these sticky things written on it."
"And that was it?"
"Not really," Kareema said. "He still calls once in a while. Says he'd like to take Alma out, show her he's really a nice guy. Talk about sick."
"Does he?" I said, thinking. "That's very interesting." It was so interesting that I lighted another of Kareema's cigarettes before I realized what I was doing.
'Two or three times he said he was going to come by," Kareema continued. "I told him I'd call the cops the minute he set foot in the place. Women don't frighten him, maybe, but cops he's afraid of."
She beckoned for her cigarettes, and I threw them to her. She lit up. We all looked at each other for a minute.
"When was the last time he called?"
"Last week sometime. Maybe Wednesday or Thursday."
"Well, well, well," I said. "Isn't that nice?"
"What's nice about it?" Kareema demanded. The bell rang in the hallway.
"I'll get it," Alma said. "You two just sit tight." She went to the door, looking like a teenager at a slumber party.
"That's it?" Kareema said.
"I guess so." I got up. "Make me a promise."
"Depends on what it is."
"Let me know the next time he calls." I gave her a card.
"What for?"
"Why not? It can't hurt, it may help. It may help put Toby on ice."
"I don't see how. I'm not going to let him get near her. I don't care what he wants to pay. I've got a business to think about. You know, this isn't a job where you can get workers comp."
The door opened and Alma came back in. "It's the dentist," she said.
"Hell," Mistress Kareema said. "It's going to be a long night. Good-bye, detective. That is all, isn't it?"
"Except for one thing."
"What's that?" She sounded weary.
"I'm tired of phony names. What's your real one?"
She regarded me. "Shirley," she finally said.
"How'd you choose Kareema?"
"None of your business." She sounded defensive, but Alma laughed.
"Basketball," Alma said. "She's crazy for basketball." Kareema gave her a shove, but she sidestepped. "Her idea of a great time would be Kareem Abdul-Jabbar." Alma dissolved into giggles. Kareema actually blushed.
"You can call me Shirley," she said to me. "Now get out of here. Alma and I have to get into our nurses' uniforms."
On the way to Alice I passed the dentist's Ferrari. The wages of sin, I thought. I hoped they were high.
17
Nana was glassy-eyed, but she was still at the bar. When I took her arm she twisted in slow-mo to see who I was, and her eyes almost crossed. Then she turned back to the bar, reeling slightly with the effort. As an afterthought, she shrugged my hand away.
"Oh, boy," she mumbled. "The hero's hero is here. Quick, everybody, put on your tights and cape." A glass stood on the bar in front of her, next to her cigarettes. On top of the cigarettes was a pack of matches that advised the world to EAT OUT MORE OFTEN.
I sniffed the glass. "What have you been drinking?"
"Seven-Up. Toby's private stock. Who wants to know?" The words were slurred and sullen.
"I think it's more like Tiny's private stock," I said. "Out of the little jars in the office."
Pinpoints of alarm kindled in her eyes. "For chrissakes, shut up. Somebody might hear you."
"I'll say it over the PA system if you like. How many?"
She wiped her nose inelegantly. "How many what?"
"Loads, stupid. How many loads?"
"Two," she said. "Or three." She made a careless gesture with her hand. "So what? I was among friends until you came in."