Blossom (24 page)

161

D
ARKNESS SURROUNDED the house, island of light in the living room. I told the Prof everything. Almost everything.

"It could play the way you say, 'home. You park that tank in the spot, the cops stake out the terrain, Virgil covers your back. The freak smokes the car, the cops move in, you take off. Virgil makes sure nobody cheats, right?"

"That's it."

"Where you gonna get the passenger, go parking with you?"

"One of those sex shops. They got them all over the place. Get one of those life–size blow–up dolls. He'll never know the difference."

The Prof lit a smoke, face a mask. "What if he don't show, bro'?"

"He will."

"Who told you?"

I looked in his eyes, not hiding it anymore. "Wesley."

"Yeah, I knew it would be true. The monster's in the ground, but he's still around."

"It's like he talked to me."

"Yeah, you goin' spiritual on me, brother? Talking to spooks? That's okay, if you can pay."

"There never was a better man–hunter, Prof. You know it as well as I do."

"You sayin' he taught you how to do it?"

"Yeah. Some of it."

"Wesley knows. This guy has to die."

"That's not mine. We're going to smoke him out, clear Lloyd once and for all. Then I'm gone."

The Prof looked around the room. Nodded.

"When that evil little baby–killer got on the train, he didn't know it stopped at Dodge City."

162

I
DROPPED HIM off where we'd picked up the 'Cuda.

"You got enough cash?"

"I'm going back on the ground, ride the 'Hound. No problem."

"Prof…"

"It's cool, fool. Don't get sloppy on me now."

"Okay."

I took his hand, surprised as always by the power in the little man's grip.

His handsome face was calm, troubadour's voice a separate, living thing in the Indiana night. "Wesley may have showed you some things, schoolboy. But I was your teacher. Wesley, he knew death. Up close and personal. Me, I know life. Stay right on the line, you'll be fine."

163

"Y
OU LIKE THE blonde or the redhead?" I asked Blossom. The sex shop had a plentiful supply. Black, white, Oriental. Matching pubic hair, "removable for washing," the dandruffy clerk told me. "All three holes, too." The two faces were identically blank.

"I don't like either of them."

"Yeah, okay. I know what you don't like. What I need is some clothes of yours, okay? They need to be dressed when I first pull into the spot."

"It won't work."

"Why not? You think he's gonna get that close a look?"

"Let's see."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's try it. Look for yourself."

"It'll work, don't worry."

"You can't be sure."

"Burke, we won't get another chance. I'll leave it up to you. Just take a look first. Please."

"Get a suitcase," I told her as I pulled the plug on the inflatable dolls.

164

V
IRGIL AND LLOYD weren't home. "They went out somewhere," Rebecca told us. "Have some coffee with me—they said they'd be back in an hour or so."

Virginia marched into the kitchen, pulling her brother by one hand. "Mommy, can we get Junior a sailor suit? I saw one on TV before. He'd look so cute in it when he goes back to school."

"Junior, you want a sailor suit?" Rebecca asked him, eyes dancing with joy at her children.

"No!"

"I guess that settles it, Virginia. Your brother's getting old enough to know his own mind."

"He's just stubborn."

"Like his daddy."

"Daddy's not stubborn."

"No, Daddy's perfect, huh?"

"Well, he
is
."

"How come you're not practicing your piano, sweetheart?" Blossom asked the child.

"She don't hardly touch that thing unless her daddy's around to hear her." Rebecca laughed.

"Mommy!" Virginia gave her a look I didn't think women learned until they were grown.

I went into the living room. Watched a Monster Truck competition on TV. Virginia sat down at the kitchen table with Blossom and her mother, sipped her mostly–milk coffee with them. I lit a cigarette, drifting. Junior came inside, sat down in his father's chair, watched the trucks with me.

165

I
T WAS ALMOST ten o'clock when I heard the door. The kids were in bed. Virginia came into the living room in her flannel nightgown, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Virgil picked her up, gave her a kiss, carried her back to bed.

"Got something to show you, brother. Outside."

The 'Cuda was in the garage, lights on. A neat round hole in the driver's door.

"Lloyd and me, we took it up to a spot I know. Off in the woods. I threw down on it from maybe fifty yards. Real close. Put one round into the door, one into the driver's window. From the thirty–ought–six. The bullets never got inside. That thing's a bank vault."

"You don't know the Mole," I told him.

His face was calm. "That's right, I don't. Thought I'd see for myself."

"Okay, it's time. We're set. Tomorrow night."

"What about the other test?" Blossom. Honey–voiced, thread of ice running deep inside.

"What test?" Virgil wanted to know.

"She wants to see what the dummies look like from outside the car. I got them in the Lincoln. I'll just blow one up, we'll take a look."

Blossom stood to the side, watching us, hands on her hips, jaw set. "Not here."

"What difference does it make?"

"Difference enough. Let's take it back, to where Virgil tested it. See what it looks like in the dark."

"This'll be good enough."

"No, it won't."

"Blossom…"

"She's right." Rebecca.

"Reba, you don't know what…"

Rebecca wheeled on Virgil. "What is it I don't know, honey? I don't know what you and Lloyd gonna be doing out there? What if this maniac sees a plastic dummy, figures out it's a trap, starts spraying bullets all over the place? Burke, he's inside this car, safe. What about you?"

Virgil held out his hands, palms up, surrendering. I caught the look between Blossom and Rebecca. Wondered why men ever think they run things.

166

B
LOSSOM SAT NEXT to me in the 'Cuda's bucket seat, running her hands over the surfaces, gauging the weight. The coupe's tail slid out a bit as I gunned it around a corner, pavement–ripping power barely under leash.

"He would have just loved this car," she said.

"Who?"

"Chandler."

I watched the Lincoln's taillights through the dull windshield, following Virgil.

167

H
E PARKED THE 'Cuda at the end of a dirt road. A few strokes of the foot pump (the one "optional extra" I bought from the sex shop after I passed on a great variety of cheesy negligees and garter belts) and the redhead doll was life–size. I positioned it in the passenger seat. Stepped back onto a rise, settled myself and looked.

The white body was only a dull streak behind the glass. Couldn't tell what it was.

"Look for yourself," I told Blossom, standing aside.

She stood next to me. Nodded.

"Let's get out of here," I said, taking her elbow.

She stood rooted. "Virgil, you got your rifle with you?"

"Yeah."

"Got a scope on it?"

He looked at me. I nodded.

I put the rifle to my shoulder. "Do it right. Play it square." Blossom's voice.

Or Wesley's?

I dropped prone, sighted in. He'd have a night scope of some kind. Infrared or luminous.

I put the cross–hairs on the passenger's window. This time, I didn't just look. I watched.

With his eyes.

The dummy sat stiff—I couldn't feel the heat.

The trap had no cheese.

168

I
N THE LINCOLN, on the way back to Blossom's.

"Who else could you get to do it?"

I didn't answer her.

"You want to ask Rebecca?"

"Shut up. You're a smart girl, be smart enough to know when to keep quiet."

169

N
O MATTER HOW many times I spun the wheel, it came up double zero—the house edge.

His house.

170

W
HEN THE DARKNESS grabbed the ground, I pulled out of Virgil's garage. Blossom sat next to me, a man's white shirt worn outside a pair of blue jeans, her long blonde hair loose and free.

The padlock gave way. I stepped back inside the 'Cuda, drove slowly through the park until I found the spot, the dual exhausts bubbling like a motorboat, leaving a wake of power–sounds. I nosed the purple car into a pool of ink, the orange light from the mercury vapor lamps just brushing the passenger window. Where Blossom sat, profile to the rise where the rusting cross–ties made a perfect sniper's roost.

"What now?" she asked.

"Keep your voice down. I don't know how sound carries out here."

"Okay, honey." She ran her fingers through her hair, leaned back in the seat.

My watch said eleven–fifteen.

"You think he's out there?"

"Not yet."

"How long are we going to wait?"

"Long as it takes."

Waiting inside myself, I knew what the big cop had been thinking, the bargain we'd made. Homicide happens. They call it different things, depending on the uniform you're wearing at the time.

A night bird screamed. Blossom stiffened. "You think…?"

"Probably heard Sherwood and his crew moving around."

"Oh."

171

O
NE–THIRTY in the morning.

"Are we going to wait until light?"

"No. Couple of kids parking, they wouldn't do that. If he's watching, he's got to believe. It's got to feel right to him first. The way I see it, he probably stalks all the time. Maybe every night. But he doesn't go off until he sees the signal. Whatever that is."

I rotated my neck on its column, feeling the adhesions crackle as they parted. Too tight.

"Time to go," I told Blossom, lighting a cigarette.

"Burke…?"

"What?"

"How come you…I mean, that's the first cigarette you've had since we parked here."

"I don't know what he can see, but the tip of a cigarette, you can see it for a long distance. That's why soldiers cup them in the field. He wouldn't expect to see a cigarette until it's over."

"What's over?"

"The sex. What he came to kill."

172

I
GUNNED THE 'Cuda out of its spot, a young man pumped up on himself. Saying goodbye.

He didn't answer.

173

"I
T LOOK REAL to you?" I asked Sherwood later.

"Perfect. From where we were, we could see right into the front seat with the scope. Even without one, you could tell people were in the car."

"You up for a couple more times?"

"Yeah. I got two men with me. Good men. It jumps off, one of the boys'll radio for help while me and my partner move on him."

"Okay. I'm coming back tonight. A little later, closer to midnight."

"Burke…"

I looked at the big man, waiting.

"Last night, someone was there. Couldn't get a movement, but we weren't alone. You know the feeling?"

"Yeah. Jungle feeling."

"One difference, here."

"What?"

"Over in 'Nam, we didn't give Charlie the first bite."

174

"T
HE CAR is perfect, Mole."

He didn't answer.

"The Prof get back?"

"Yes."

"Good. Tell him everything's okay."

The Mole stayed silent.

"Pansy's all right?"

"Sure."

"Give her a pat for me."

He hung up.

175

I
NSIDE THE 'CUDA, waiting.

"I spoke to my sister last night. After you fell asleep."

"Violet?"

"Rose. I told her we were going to find the man who killed her. Told Mama too."

I didn't say anything. Watching her fine profile, smelling her smell.

"Burke…our gull, the one we saved?"

"Yeah?"

"He's okay now. I let him go this morning."

Time passed. The sniper didn't come.

176

T
HE PHONE RANG at Blossom's the next afternoon. Answering machine picked up.

"Blossom? It's Wanda, girl. Get off your big fat butt and pick up the phone."

Blossom snatched the receiver. Pieces of the conversation came through as I dozed. "This better be right, now. You talked to her yourself, Wanda Jean?" Schoolgirl giggles.

I closed my eyes. She was a different person. Again. Another piece of the puzzle. Letting me see her essence the way a stripteaser shows you her body.

Keeping the G–string in place.

A red lacquered fingernail gently scratched my cheek. "Wake up, honey. We got places to go."

177

V
IRGIL WAS HOME from work, sitting at the kitchen table drinking a beer, Virginia standing next to him, one hand on his shoulder.

"Where's my hero?" Blossom asked.

"Out in the back, playing catch with Junior."

Blossom went out to get him. I sat down, caught Virgil's eye.

"Virginia…"

"I know. Go practice my piano."

He gave her a kiss. She flounced out.

I told Virgil what Blossom had in mind. He sipped his beer, thinking it through. Nodded.

"Reba!"

She came in from the back of the house, scarf tied around her head, flushed from doing some kind of work.

"What is it, Virgil? Afternoon, Burke."

"We're going out for a bit. We'll get supper out. Be back after dark."

"Okay. Is Lloyd going?"

"Yeah."

"I'll let Virginia watch Junior. Be careful."

178

V
IRGIL DROVE THE Lincoln over to Calumet City, me next to him, Blossom and Lloyd in the back seat. Talking low.

"Here it is," she said. A neat white frame house, dark green trim around the windows, driveway along the side.

I knocked on the back door. A panel about half the size of a man's face slid back. Blossom pushed past me. "We've got an appointment," she said. "With Crystal."

The panel slid closed. Door opened. A slim man wearing a black–and–white–striped shirt with red suspenders led us into a formal parlor. Matching love seats, easy chairs, all done up in a light blue pattern, dark blue Oriental rug on the polished hardwood floor.

We took seats. A woman came in, tall, subtle makeup burying her age, black hair done up in a beehive. Blossom got up, put out her hand. "Miz Joyce, I'm Blossom Lynch. My mother was Tessie Mae Lynch, from Weirton, West Virginia. She spoke of you often—I'm pleased to meet you."

The tall woman took her hand, bowed her head slightly, smiled. They walked off together.

Virgil looked around, shrugged.

"What'd you expect, pal?" the man in the striped shirt said. "A red light over the door?"

I laughed. It felt good.

Lloyd looked straight ahead.

Blossom and the madam came back with a curvy young woman, her small face almost buried under a toss of strawberry–blonde curls.

"Lloyd," Blossom said, "this is my friend Crystal. The girl I told you about."

"Pleased to meet you," Lloyd mumbled, his face scarlet.

We sat down in the parlor to wait.

After a while, Lloyd came downstairs, a goofy grin on his face. His chest was too big for his shirt.