Devil's Corner (42 page)

"If justice is good, why does it feel so bad?" Vicki asked.

"Lot of things that are good feel genuinely lousy."

"Like what?"

"Apologies, for example. I owed you a major apology and I gave it to you. I was wrong, down the line, and you were right." Dan smiled, tired and still wearing his North Face coat, too. "You know, I love you."

"I love you, too." Vicki liked the new tone in his voice, but neither of them felt like kissing. "So when you gonna dump me?"

"After I sleep with you a few more times."

"Hey!" Vicki shoved him, and Dan laughed softly, defending himself with his hands.

"Stop. I'm not dumping you."

"What about work?"

"We can handle it."

"What about what people will say?"

"They don't like it, they can kiss my Irish ass." Dan smiled.

"I'm sorry I said you had to choose. I was being stupid."

"I'm sorry I said you were political."

"I am. At least, I was."

"I can't believe Morty," Vicki said, disgusted. "He turned out to be such a fraud. A liar. His whole life was phony."

"You're just angry."

"Damn right I am. Look what he did."

"You and me, we don't see Morty the same way."

Vicki frowned. "Since when did you start talking like Dr. Phil?"

"Since about an hour ago, when my girlfriend almost got killed,
again
, and my professional life turned upside down. It makes you think."

"How do you see him?"

"I'll tell you, if you can listen with an open mind." Dan's smile vanished, and his eyes looked dead-level at Vicki. "It's something I learned from my father, and from Zoe."

"The cat?" Vicki smiled. "Okay."

"As you know, Miss Zoe is loving, smart, and loyal. She has many wonderful qualities. Plus, she loves you."

"I'm her landlord."

"That's beside the point. She hated my evil ex-wife."

"So did I."

Dan smiled. "But to my point. She's wonderful but she's not perfect. She has a heart murmur."

"Yeah, so?"

"I love her anyway."

"So?"

"Think about Morty. He was smart and dedicated and able, but he had something wrong with his heart. And so did Bale. You're angry because you think you can't love them anymore, especially Morty. But you can." Dan nodded. "My father is in the same category, but I love him anyway, too."

"You forgive him?"

"No, I mean I love him. It's a direct line."

"Is that possible?" Vicki didn't get it.

"Yes. Listen to me. I'm older, I'm taller, and I know." Dan reached over and moved a stray tendril from Vicki's face. "You're looking for the perfect man, babe, and all there is is me, and your father."

Vicki blinked, and suddenly there was a rustling at the threshold to the waiting room. They both turned. Reheema's surgeon, an older man in wrinkled blue scrubs and a puffy patterned hat, came bustling in, his face drawn with concern.

"Doc?" Vicki said, alarmed, sitting up.

FIFTY

By early morning, the snow had finally stopped falling outside the hospital room window, leaving the sky a pure sapphire-blue that appeared only in the coldest winters, as heaven's own reward. Vicki sat in the high-backed chair while Reheema slept, a transparent green oxygen tube looped under her nose, and her hair black and fuzzy on the thin white pillow. A thermal blanket was pulled up to her neck, covering the bandages from her surgery. The doctor had said that she was going to live, but her recovery was going to be slow, so Vicki had sent Dan home.

In time Reheema stirred and her large eyes fluttered open, and Vicki got up and crossed to the bed, feeling a rush of relief. It was one thing to have a doctor say she was going to live, and another to see her finally wake up. Vicki eased onto the edge of the bed, near Reheema. A splint had been taped to the top of her hand where the IV went into the vein, and her long, dark fingers bent slightly, with the residuum of dried blood under her fingernails.

Reheema opened her eyes and managed a weak smile. "Back off," she said, her voice hoarse. "Last time you got this close… you tried to strangle me."

Vicki smiled. "That was before."

"Before what?"

"Before I knew you'd sue me for it."

Reheema smiled again, then it faded quickly. The spirit was willing, but the body was definitely weak. She looked as if she could barely keep her eyes open, but when she did, they flashed with attitude. "I'll drop that suit… you treat me right."

"Now don't get fresh. I've been here all night and we haven't fought once."

"I was asleep."

"I'll take it. How do you feel?"

"Fine."

"Congratulations, you're out of intensive care."

"Dumb… to stay in here too long. I feel… fine."

"Oh yeah, you look fine. You know, I bet Dan you wouldn't make it. The minute you woke up, I lost fifty bucks."

Reheema smiled again. "Montgomery dead?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Vicki couldn't deny it. "And Bale's going to prison. I'll give you the details when you feel better."

Reheema smiled contentedly.

"Oh yeah, where'd you get the gun?"

"Where'd you… think?"

"My top drawer?"

"You hid it under your panties… bein' all badass. Oooh." Reheema smiled again, then ran a dry tongue over her lips. "Yo, got some water?"

"Sure." Vicki picked up the beige plastic pitcher on the rolling bed table, poured water into a Styrofoam cup, and held it to Reheema's lips. "The doc said you'd be thirsty after the surgery, because they had to put a tube down your throat. I asked them, hey, can I put the tube down her throat? But they said no."

"Sorry I messed up your car." Reheema sipped some water, then eased back onto the pillow.

"It's okay." Vicki flashed on the bloodstained door on the TV news. She wasn't sure she wanted the Cabrio back, even if they could clean it up. "Lucky for me I already own an Intrepid."

"I get the Intrepid." Reheema eased back onto the pillow. "You take the Sunbird."

"I can't drive a stick."

"Then I got something… to teach
you
, Harvard."

"I could've told you that," Vicki said, and smiled. She set the cup on the bedside table, reached for Reheema's hand, and cradled it, which they both pretended wasn't happening until Reheema started to drift back to sleep.

And only then did Reheema's hand close around hers.

FIFTY-ONE

It was an August afternoon, and a nectarine sun shone on tall, leggy cosmos, their flowers neon orange, chrome yellow, and vivid magenta. Next to them sprouted a bunchy row of zinnias, in dusty pinks and lemony hues, their heads like pompoms. Honeybees landed on the flowers, then buzzed along. A young mother in jeans shorts and a red Sixers T-shirt stood with a toddler, picking black-eyed Susans with breakaway yellow petals and an unlikely black button at the center. The air felt humid as a hothouse, but it smelled sweet, earthy, and clean.

"This is amazing!" Vicki said, delighted.

"Nice, huh?" Reheema beamed. She looked relaxed and healthy in a white cotton T-shirt and khaki shorts that showed long, muscular legs. Bits of soil caked her knees and covered the beat-up toes of her white Nikes, and only an occasional stiffness in her movements suggested that her healing process wasn't yet complete.

"
Very
nice! It's great!"

"We're proud of it." Reheema tugged a curled brown leaf from a mass of tiger lilies, which formed an exotic backdrop to a grouping of lovely golden flowers, each one shaped like a sunny star.

"What are those yellow cuties?" Vicki asked, pointing.

"Coreopsis."

"Listen to you! Coreopsis! You
feelin'
the coreopsis?"

"I know, right? I'm a black girl with a green thumb."

Vicki laughed. "But no gardening gloves."

"Please. I'm not
crazy
."

Vicki laughed again. They were standing in the new community garden on Cater Street, which was located in the vacant lot that used to be the crack store. The neighbors had cleared the lot, built raised beds out of railroad ties, and created a garden on the right side of the lot, which got full sun almost all day. The left side was cleared, too, though beds had yet to be constructed. Vicki was thrilled to finally see the garden in bloom; she'd stopped by on her way to Devon, since it was time for an obligatory Sunday dinner with her parents.

"Now which plot is yours?" she asked.

"We don't do it that way. The way we do, the people like me who want to grow flowers, we sign up and plant the flowers together. We planted 'em in May, and now we all pick the ones we want."

"Sounds good."

"I made the rules, of course."

"Of course. You're the Block Captain."

"I'm the Block
Diva
," Reheema corrected, and they both laughed. "People who want to do vegetables, they sign up for vegetables. The vegetables are behind the flowers, over there."

Vicki shielded her eyes from the sun and looked against the brick wall, in the back bed. Tomato plants stood in neat green lines, tied to stakes by brown string, and an older woman in a sleeveless housedress and orange flip-flops picked ripe beefsteak tomatoes. A row of red and green pepper plants lined up in front, and on a patch of tilled soil lay thick furry vines with large, light green leaves and striped clubs of zucchini, one as big as a Louisville Slugger.

"That zucchini's a lethal weapon," Vicki said.

"Mrs. Walter's pride and joy. She grows so much damn zucchini, she's making bread every day, then relish. You ever eat zucchini relish?" Reheema wrinkled her nose. "S'nasty."

"Now you got suburban problems. You thought it was easy, being rich?"

"Ha! Be careful what you wish, right?"

Vicki laughed, and Reheema did, too, at the ridiculous notion. The neighborhood had begun a comeback, in only two seasons. The town watch patrolled regularly, rarely wanting for volunteers. Neighbors repainted the trim on their houses, replaced asphalt shingles that had fallen off, and put new Astroturf on the porch floors. Trash was stored in cans, not strewn on the street anymore, and the sidewalks had been swept. Best of all, people were outside without fear. This afternoon, mothers hung out on front stoops, talking while little girls jumped rope and boys practiced break-dancing on a flattened refrigerator box. The sight taught Vicki that, however hard-won, justice wasn't an end in itself. Instead, it was a beginning, enabling people to be safe, happy, and free. The rest was up to them.

Reheema cocked her head. "So how's work?"

"Way too busy. With Steptoe cooperating and Bale pleading, I got a boatload of new cases."

"But you love it," Reheema said, and Vicki nodded happily.

"And Dan says hi. And how about you? Did you get that coaching gig you wanted?"

"Yeah, a traveling team, a nice group of girls." Reheema smiled broadly. "Now I'm at city services by day and a track coach on the weekends."

"Take it easy, with the running so soon."

"I'm fine." Reheema waved her off.

Rring! Rring!
Vicki's cell phone rang in her shorts pocket and she pulled it out and checked the display. MOM CELL, it read. "Excuse me, I should get this." She opened the phone and said, "Hey, Mom. Are we still on for dinner?"

"Yes, of course."

"What's up?"

"There's been a slight change of plans. We're here."

"What? Where?"

"Your father and I. We're parked in front of your father's old house."

"You and Dad?
Here
?" Vicki's eyes flared in horror, and Reheema stifled a laugh.

"Yes, dear. You left a message that you were stopping by a community garden in Devil's Corner before you came home, so we thought we'd take a ride down and meet you here. Where are you, exactly?"

In shock
. "Wait there. I'll come to you."

FIFTY-TWO

"Mom, Dad, it's great to see you," Vicki said, as she walked over to her parents.

"Isn't this fun, dear?" Her mother came toward her smiling, chic in white Capri pants and a turquoise knit shell, with tan Tod loafers.

"Really fun." Vicki hugged her scented mother, whose sleek hair and skin felt refrigerated from the car's air-conditioning. Her father was standing on the sidewalk and frowning up at his old house, his hands resting on his hips. He wore a white Lacoste shirt and khaki pants, and hovered protectively near the front bumper of their silver Mercedes. The sedan gleamed like a flying saucer, and the Allegrettis looked as out of place as aliens, or at least, lawyers.

"I wanted to see the community garden," her mother said, looking around. Two little girls on their bicycles, their stiff braids flying, stared as they rode past.

"It's around the block, on Cater. I was just there with Reheema."

"Oh, your friend? I'd like to meet her. Is it far?"

"Not really."

"Wonderful, I'll take a little walk. It's good exercise."

NO! DON'T LEAVE ME HERE WITH THIS MAN
! "Mom, why don't you wait? We can walk over together."

"But your father wants to look at his old house."

"He'll want to meet Reheema, too."

"Then he will, later. He wants to look at his house now. This trip was his idea. Go talk to him, go through the house with him, then walk over to the community garden." Her mother gave her a discreet shove toward her father, but Vicki had faced loaded Glocks with more enthusiasm.

"Mom—"

"Go!" Her mother turned on her expensive heel and walked away.

"It's on the left, down the middle of the block," Vicki called after her, and her mother waved, though she didn't turn back.

"Where's your mother going?" her father asked, coming over, as lost as Vicki, as if they were two baby birds.

SHE LEFT US ALONE
! "To see the community garden."

"Where is it? I thought it was on Lincoln."

"No, it's on Cater. Right around the block." Vicki had grown so used to filling the air with words, she did it reflexively. "I'm sure we can catch up with her. She can't go fast on foot."