But it didn't happen like that. She was a smiling Valkyrie standing in the doorway, hair like a black waterfall on her shoulders and her hands out to take mine. Her eyes were laughing and her mouth told me she missed me. She laid her cheek against mine and squeezed my arm, then suddenly realized that there was a difference and her eyes went wide and she traced the shoe marks on my face with the tips of her fingers.
She asked, "Again?" and when I nodded she dropped her face into her hand and remained that way until I tilted her chin up.
"They were the same persons?"
"No, but the same outfit."
"What . . . did they want?"
I told her a half-truth. "To teach me a lesson. They didn't like me roughing up the hoods who started this party rolling."
She studied me, then said, "It's my father, isn't it?"
"I'm not sure yet."
"When will you be sure?"
"Soon."
There wasn't long to wait. The phone rang sharply twice and when I picked it up Dan said, "Phil?"
"Here, Dan."
"I have that dope you wanted. Jean Stuart Massley was Rhino's real name, but the guy had a phobia about effeminate names and changed it someplace along the line. Apparently he hated women and this is what led to his divorce. His early record includes assault raps, mainly brought by women. He wouldn't even employ a female secretary. So he changed his name. Jean Stuart was pretty frilly to him. The John Lacy tag he used was the name of a fighter back in the old days, so he went along with that."
"Got the other?"
"Sure. The doctor was Thomas Hoyt. If you remember, he was the one the mob used back during the war. He was an alcoholic, but they straightened him out and put him back in business."
"Where is he?"
"Still in Phoenix, I imagine. He's not licensed in New York any longer. I couldn't pick up that medical history. It went with Hoyt from Mayberry to Phoenix and is probably still there. One of the old dames at Mayberry said it was a pretty quiet affair all the way around. Hoyt brought in a nurse from outside and nobody was allowed near Rhino at all while he was there. She supposed they were afraid of someone coming in and knocking Rhino off and it's a pretty good guess."
"Who was the nurse?"
"I didn't ask. Want me to check?"
"Never mind."
I hung up the phone and turned around. Terry hadn't moved.
"Now you know," she said.
"That's right. Now I know."
"You'll tell me?"
I nodded. "Rhino Massley was your father."
A shadow crossed her face. "You said he was dead."
"I said I thought he was dead. It's beginning to look like there isn't any other answer."
"But you're not sure."
"I will be."
"If he is dead, then, who is pretending to be my father?"
There wasn't any other way except to spell it out. I said, "Your father was a hood. He had documentary evidence that kept the right people in line and used it to stay on top. Your mother either lifted that stuff from him or he gave it to her to hold."
"But she never . . ."
"He might have had that much contact with her. She could still be useful even if she was divorced. Don't forget that Rhino was a louse." Her mouth pulled tight. "Sorry, kid, but that's the way it was."
"I understand."
"When it came out who your mother was, the mob assumed those documents would come to light, most likely in the inheritor's hands, which was you. They slapped a tail on you, not willing to move in until they knew where you were keeping the stuff.
"Then when they got wind of somebody else trying to come in on the deal they had to scratch off fast. They couldn't take a chance on anyone else getting it. If they could pick you up, they could squeeze out the information. If necessary, you were expendable. Knock you off and they could have time to search out what they wanted."
"But Phil . . ."
"What?"
"There isn't anything. You saw what mother left." Her eyebrows drew together in a puzzled frown. "There never has been anything. Surely she would have told me if there had been."
"Perhaps not. I want to look at that stuff again."
"Go ahead. I haven't touched it."
This time I dumped the lot on the bed and spread it out. I went over the papers searching for answers, but there was no more now than there had been.
To myself I said, "There has to be something else."
Terry heard me, came over and stood beside me and reached into her pocketbook. She handed me a leather folder. "Mother's wallet. She never carried a purse."
I took it from her fingers, opened the snap and leafed through the plastic cardholders inside. There was her driver's license, membership cards in local clubs, several gas credit cards, and two from L.A. restaurants. One folder held several news clippings, brittle and yellow, reporting events Terry had participated in in school. There were photos of her as a girl, two winter clothes storage receipts, a season ticket for the L.A. Dodger games, and a dime-thin ten-dollar gold piece.
"Did it help?"
"I can't see how," I told her. I put everything back where it was and handed it to her.
"Phil . . ."
Without realizing it, I had my arms around her, only now it was as if we had known each other a long, long time and I wasn't what I was at all. Her hair had the fragrance of some wild flower that I could pick whenever I wanted to. She lifted her head, her eyes going over my face. I kissed her gently, her eyes closing when our mouths touched. It was only for a moment, then I held her close and wondered where all the crazy hate went that I felt when I first saw her. And how long ago was it to then . . . years?
She said, "What shall I do?"
"What do you want to do?"
"If I stay somebody might . . . be hurt. It . . . might be you, Phil."
"I'm nobody. It wouldn't matter at all."
"To me it would."
My fingers tightened on her arms and she winced, but didn't try to pull away. "Don't talk like that. We haven't anything in common at all."
For a moment her face was blank, then shame and sudden shock touched her as with a strange hand, and the wetness that welled into her eyes overflowed to her cheeks and I could feel the sob working in her chest.
"Because my father . . . was this man . . . I'm no good. That's why, isn't it?"
Amazement pulled my face tight. "Are you crazy?" I said. "Sugar, I don't give a fat damn what your father was. You're class, kitten. You're a big, lovely woman with more class than a guy hardly ever gets to see at all."
"Phil . . ."
"No, just listen. I'm a bum, a slob. I did time, even if it was a bad rap, and things like that change a guy and stick with him a long while. All I had in my head in the beginning was to get the chance to knock off your old man and that one hope kept me going. For a while I thought I had it again. I was all geared up to kill and no matter what it cost I was ready for it. Knocking Rhino over would have been the happiest day of my life."
"Not now. You spoiled the picture for me. I could still hate him with everything inside me, but because you wanted him I couldn't touch him. That's what you've done to me. You got me all crazy gone and I can't even look at you without wanting to put my hands on you and I'm thinking all kinds of things I thought I had forgotten."
"But I'm not letting it rub off on you, girl. One touch of me and you'd be dirtied too, and the best thing I can do is to go back where I belong and let you alone. I'm going to run this bit down. I'm going to get it straight so nobody will be holding a sword over your head ever, and when I do it it's going to be so-long all the way and that's that."
Her hair shimmered with motion when she shook her head. "You can't do that, Phil."
"The hell I can't. Maybe another time it would have been different, but this is here and now and that's how it's going to be. Look at me. I'm lousy and dirty and a couple of days ago I was scrubbing for handouts so I could buy a jug. I run with the sewer rats now because there's no place else to go. I don't even care anymore, can't you tell? I like it this way. I can sit back and spit on the world and there's not a thing it can take away from me because I haven't got anything. So take a good look, kid, and you can see why I don't want anything rubbing off."