Wilson turned out his half smile again. There was a bit of food stuck between his front teeth. Must have been breakfast. I pushed the folder back into his lap.
“Not interested, Mr. Mayor. In fact, if these snaps see the light of day, our deal’s off.”
I stood up. Wilson remained where he was, staring at the chair I had just vacated. Then he looked up. It was a look that had served his family for generations. And it wasn’t pretty.
“You want to be an enemy?” he said.
“No, Mr. Mayor, I don’t. Told you at the beginning. I play things pretty much as they lie. Straight up.”
“Let the chips fall where they may?”
“Call it what you want. You abide by our deal. And you leave Rachel Swenson alone. Got nothing to fear from me.”
The mayor weighed my life, such as it was. Took a while. At least another sip and a half of good mayoral water. Then he shrugged, stretched out all six feet three inches, and came around the desk.
“My guys will call the reporter and set it up on the curator. What’s his name?”
“Randolph,” I said. “Lawrence Randolph.”
“Yeah, Randolph. Okay, we got it.”
“What’s it gonna be?” I said.
Wilson shrugged. “They’ll come up with something.” Then His Honor leaned in for a final word. “Just remember one thing, Kelly. It’s my city you live in. Every inch of it.”
The mayor placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Now go get yourself something to eat. We just opened up a new place at Millennium Park. Great burgers.”
Wilson’s hand slipped off my shoulder and down my arm. Then he turned and walked to his windows. I opened the door and took a final look. The mayor had his back to me, looking out over his city, edges of buildings peeking through a torn curtain of gray. In an hour or so, the afternoon fog would be swallowed whole by an early dusk. Night would steal in and lights would come on: in the Sears Tower, the Hancock, and across two miles of steel and concrete in between. The darker it got, it seemed, the better the view. At least from the fifth floor.
CHAPTER 47
T he hall outside the mayor’s office was empty. I was halfway toward the elevator when Willie Dawson stuck his head from around a convenient corner.
“Kelly,” the mayor’s aide whispered.
I shuffled over, trying to look furtive albeit not understanding why. Willie hustled me into a small office. It contained a wooden table with a cardboard box on top of it.
“He didn’t flame-broil your ass, like I suggested.”
“Thanks, Willie.”
“Should have flame-broiled your ass. Like a goddamn BK Whopper. Yessiree. ‘Gonna regret it,’ I told him.”
“What do you want, Willie?”
“Want? From you? Nothing. You’re nothing but trouble.”
Willie gestured down to the box on the table between us. For the first time I registered holes, poked into the box’s cover.
“Mayor wants you to have this.”
Willie took off the top. Inside was a pink baby’s blanket. Nestled inside the blanket was a puppy, brown and white with long ears and gold markings.
“What’s this?”
“The mayor’s springer had her litter. Mayor says you need one. Told me to make sure you got a female.”
I looked down. The pup opened one eye, then the other. I tried to look away, but it wasn’t easy. The pup yawned and rolled over on her back. Apparently, it was time for a belly rub.
“Pick her up, Kelly.”
I did. The pup licked the side of my face, burrowed her head into my chest, and promptly fell asleep. I looked over at Willie, who was fighting it but smiling all the same.
“You have that effect on all women?”
“Funny guy, Willie. I can’t take care of a puppy.”
“Mayor didn’t ask if you wanted his gift. If you understand what I mean?”
I looked down again at the pup, dug in and already offering up a light snore. I shrugged. What the hell.
“What do I feed her?”
“Instructions are in the box.”
“What’s her name?”
“You the daddy, Kelly. You decide. Now if I were you, I’d disappear. Sooner the better.”
Two minutes later I was out the door, mayoral pup still in my arms, trying to hail a cab. It wasn’t easy, but I made it home. Cabbie talked at me the entire ride. About crate training, housebreaking, and something called doggie day care. I nodded and wondered what the hell language he might be speaking. My new friend didn’t seem nearly so concerned. In fact, she didn’t crack an eyelid the whole way home.
CHAPTER 48
The cabbie dropped me in front of my flat. I carried Her Highness upstairs and put her down just inside the front door. The as-yet-to-be-named pup took a look around and another look back at me. Then she made her way into the bedroom. I followed. She was sitting on the floor and staring up at my bed. I shook my head no. The pup had other ideas. She got a running start, bounced off the side of my box spring, and landed, snout first, on the floor. I laughed. The pup yelped. She might have considered it a bark, but, trust me, she was kidding herself. I leaned against the door frame and watched as she took another go at the promised land, otherwise known as a soft mattress. The pup came up short again, hitting the ground, butt first this time, with a thud. She got up a bit slower, walked over, and sat down in front of me.
“What do you want me to do?”
She cocked her head, wagged her tail, stretched her paws out in front of her, and wiggled her butt in the air. I’d discover later this was a signal. The pup wanted to play. At the time, I thought she was probably going to go to the bathroom. Instead, she yelped again. Once, twice. Then a whole series of them. Finally, I did what any new parent would do. I caved, picked up the pup, and set her down on the bed. She ran around in circles for half a minute or so, then found a spot on my pillow. Thirty seconds later, she was asleep again. I turned off the light and closed the door. What the fuck.
I was back in the front room of my apartment, thinking about the cold beer in my fridge, when I heard a light tap on the door. I forgot about the beer, picked up my gun, and thumbed off the safety. I had been home less than five minutes and figured my visitor to be no coincidence. Whoever it was had been waiting, watching, as I came in. The only encouraging sign, they were knocking at my door. Not knocking it down. I was half hoping for a certain female federal judge named Swenson to be on the other side. What I got was nothing close.
“Kelly, can I come in?”
Dan Masters was wearing a Lucky Strike T-shirt and smelling like fast food and cheap hotels. One hand held a cigarette cupped against his palm. The other rattled a set of keys to a rental car. The detective wasn’t wearing a badge and I didn’t see a gun.
“When was the last time you slept, Masters?”
“Don’t worry about me. Can we come in?”
Masters stepped back and I looked down the hallway. Janet sat on the stairs and looked at the wall less than two feet away. Taylor stood nearby, staring at nothing out the window. I leaned back in the doorjamb.
“My two friends,” I said, and turned back into my apartment. Masters followed, closing the door behind him.
“You want a drink?” I said.
“No, thanks.”
I opened up a drawer and pulled out copies of three insurance policies Vince Rodriguez had dug out for me.
“A hundred and a half in coverage on Johnny Woods,” I said, and threw them on the table. “Most of it taken out in the last three months.”
Masters turned his head sideways to look at the policies. Like he was looking at one of those modern paintings no one could ever understand or even know which way to hang. Then he straightened up and looked at me.
“You got a glass of water?”
I walked out to the kitchen. The detective got his drink while I waited. I was thinking about the two women in my hallway. I suspected Masters was as well. I don’t think either of us was happy about any of it.