Fresh Kills (32 page)

Val had a bottle of rum clutched in one hand. Lily was holding her other hand, and whispering to her like she was a little girl. Val's face was wet. In spite of everything, or because of it, I was out of my mind glad to see Lily.

The TV was on, local news already showing a reporter near the alleyway where the baby was found.

Staring at the TV, Val sucked some rum straight out of the bottle, and I could see the picture of a pirate on the label when she put it to her lips.

She placed it on the floor, picked at her hair, and twisted a piece of it around her finger, then plucked out a single strand. The skin on her face was tight and the circles under her eyes were purple with fatigue and wet from crying. She kept hold of Lily's hands as if she'd sink without the support.

Tolya, who leaned over the back of the couch as if to protect the two women, talked into a phone, his voice furious.

“How did you know?” he said to me. “You saw it on TV? I was trying to get you.”

“Know what?”

“About Luda.”

“I just felt worried about her,” I said. “I don't know anything. What should I know?”

“She's gone,” Lily said. “Tolya called me, and I got here as soon as I could. She's just gone. We left you messages. We called and Billy answered, and we told him. Didn't he tell you?”

“He said he talked to Luda.”

“That was earlier,” Lily said. “Much earlier. We called again. I told him, please tell Artie to call. I said it was urgent.”

“How gone?” I said. “Tolya? What's going on? I need you to tell me what happened.” I was talking in Russian very fast, but Tolya didn't even look at me, just waved his hand in my direction to tell me to shut up while he was on the phone.

“My dad's got a bunch of his guys on it, he says he doesn't trust the cops, it's no different from Russia,” Val said.

“What else?”

“I didn't bring Luda into the country with all the right papers. You won't report that will you?” Val's beautiful face was pinched with fear.

“Don't be ridiculous.” I put my arms around her. “What would I report, anyway? You're American.”

“But Luda isn't.” said Val. “I got sick of waiting, I mean Luda's ten, she was nine then, and she was so excited. I took her to the US embassy in Moscow and they wanted to know about her family and I said she was pretty much an orphan and they asked her all these stupid questions, and finally I lost my cool and I said, what the fuck kind of terrorist did they think Luda was? It didn't really go down well and they more or less told me they'd never give her a visa. I pulled some strings. I asked daddy to spend some money on it, I asked him to get some friends to smooth things out,” Val said, and burst into tears.

“Oh, God, what did I do? It was a vacation, Artie.” Val said. “I was bringing the kid here for a vacation, and all I got from the shitty US embassy in Moscow was some kind of runaround, so now I'm scared if we call the cops, they'll find her and just ship her back to some crappy orphanage in Russia. You should see what those places are like.”

“You have to tell me where she's gone,” I said.

Val got up suddenly and wandered around the living room. Wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt that came down to her knees, nothing else, her hair pulled back in a knot, she was on the verge of hysterics.

I put out my hand. She turned away. Lily followed her, and put her arm around Val. Val looked at her gratefully and kept talking, unable to stop.

“It was bad after the thing at the toy store. For Luda, I mean.
The baby dolls, you know, she had never seen anything like that, but what was worse for her were the dolls they made that looked like her. You remember? It made her cry, just the idea, and then later – I think you were outside smoking – she saw a row of them and they all looked like her, and she freaked.”

“I remember,” I said.

“We found out that Luda had a twin who was killed in some terrorist subway bombing in Moscow. When she saw the doll, she thought it was her sister. We also found out it was Billy who got her to pose and told the people at the toy store to make up the dolls.”

“He probably didn't know,” I said. “He probably just thought it would be fun for her. He liked her. He told me he likes her a lot and he feels for her.”

Lily looked at me and didn't say anything.

“I didn't hear what Billy said to Luda,” Val said. “But she calmed down, that was Wednesday, I guess, we got her calmed down and we went out to East Hampton and she was happier. Why isn't there anything on TV about Luda? Why don't they find her?”

I said, “Let me call Sonny Lippert. He knows everyone who works on child crime.”

Tolya reached out and grabbed my arm, and said to me, “No!” and then into his phone, “Just do it,” speaking in crude Russian.

He snapped the phone shut. He picked up a cigar that was burning in an ashtray and said to me in English, but with the hood's accent he used when he was angry or to mock me, “Is all shit. Policeman don't do nothing for Luda, who is also in their eyes illegal. How can little child be illegal? What that mean? Bastards,” Tolya let out a stream of Russian curses.

“All they talk is terrorists, but they can't do anything. America,” he snarled. “Wait until real disaster hits country that
does not even believe in global warming, and there's refugees from floods inside this country.”

“She's illegal, Tolya,” I said. “I can help fix that if you let me. I know people who work immigration. Please, don't let your guys make a mistake; muscle isn't going to work here. Please.”

“No. I find her.”

“What happened?”

His body seemed to fold up; like a wounded animal, Tolya seemed to lose his bulk, his scale, vigor. He sank into a chair.

“We get back from East Hampton today, maybe late afternoon, early evening. Val goes out to do shopping, and then I hear Luda on phone and afterwards she is very quiet, calm, and asks me to make some food, says she's hungry, everything normal. Says she'll watch cartoons. I go into kitchen to make some food for her, and I come out, she's gone. Fucking gone, Artyom. Just walks out, or maybe someone kidnaps. Just gone.”

“Will you let me help?”

Tolya said softly, “No, Artyom. Not this time.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Just go do what you have to do.”

I took the stairs down from Tolya's. Steps clattered behind me. It was Lily, her sandals clacking on the concrete. On the second-floor landing, she caught up with me, put her arms around me and said, “Do you know anything about Luda? Artie?”

“No.”

“I'll be there for you whatever,” said Lily. “I mean that. I'm not running away from you anymore,” she said. “But if you know anything, you have to help find Luda. She's already had a miserable life. Valentina is falling apart. She thinks it's her fault. Please, if you have to tell someone, tell me, and I'll go find her.”

I leaned against Lily and for a minute it felt as if she was holding me up; maybe she was.

“I don't know where Luda is.”

“Do you think Billy might know anything about it?” Lily said. “They talked a lot. You said he liked her.”

“He did like her. Does like her. Sure, I'll talk to him, of course, but what could he have had to do with it?”

Lily made me sit down next to her on the stairs.

“I have to go.”

“Sit with me for one minute. You have cigarettes?”

It had always seemed conspiratorial, the two of us smoking together away from other people, and I got out a pack and gave her one, and we sat without saying anything.

“Do you know that I dream about you a lot,” Lily said.

I was pretty startled. “Me too.”

“You do?”

I nodded.

Lily said, “I don't want you to hurt anyone. I just need us to see each other, or talk, even if we just talk, and I wanted to say that now, before you leave.”

“Leave? Where am I going?”

“Do you want to tell me?”

“It'll be OK,” I said. “I'm going to call Sonny Lippert about Luda. Tolya doesn't want that, but I have to. It's the only way.”

“Wait a few hours,” said Lily. “You promised him. How's Billy doing?”

“He'll be fine,” I said. “You like him, you thought he was a good kid, right? Lily?”

“I didn't get to know him that well,” she said. “I liked him, though. Yeah, I did.”

I got up. “I have to go.”

She followed me to the lobby, and kissed me, and said, “I love you, you know.”

*

I didn't tell anyone where we were going, Billy and me. I couldn't tell Lily or Tolya or Sonny Lippert. I couldn't trust anyone until I got us both onto a plane and back to Florida. We'd get a flight out tonight. I'd keep my promise to Billy and take him fishing. It was what he would remember.

It was late, almost morning when I got home from Tolya's. I didn't have a chance to put Billy's phone back before he woke up. Maybe I didn't want to. I kept it in my jacket pocket.

He smiled dozily, and said, “Is it a nice day? Can we go fishing?”

“It's great. It's going to be a nice day,” I said. “Good forecast,” I added. “Come on, get dressed.”

“I can't find my phone,” said Billy.

“It'll turn up.”

“I need it.”

“I can get you another phone.”

“I want my own cell phone,” he said.

“Then go look around, but hurry up.”

Five minutes later when he had searched the loft, Billy said, “I can't find it.”

“We have to go.”

“All right,” he said, still unhappy. “OK. Where are we going?” Billy was in jeans and a T-shirt and now he pulled on a green sweater. I didn't know if he was furious about the cell phone or if he had accepted it. His face was blank.

“It'll be a surprise,” I said. “Grab your stuff.”

“What for?”

“We're going to spend the day fishing and we're going to stay over out on Staten Island together. I thought that would be nice, I know a place where we can stay.”

“Wow,” he said. “Oh, cool. Thanks. Do I still have to go back to Florida early?”

“We'll talk about it later.”

I picked up a small carry-on where I'd put a few things that I figured I'd need in Florida – I wanted to go down and be back before Maxine got home Sunday – and I said we should be quiet leaving my loft because it was early and people were still sleeping.

Baseball cap on his head, his knapsack in his hand, Billy was near the door, standing almost to attention. Maybe he knew we weren't coming back. He smiled tentatively at me as if he was trying to respond correctly to the situation.

Billy learned fast, his teachers had said; an uncanny ability to learn whatever you showed him made him a terrific student. Once in a while, just for a split second now and then, I had wondered if he only imitated emotion.

Now, Billy looked at me, a blank look on his face as if he didn't recognize me for a second, and then he smiled as if it was something he put on and took off; perplexed, he seemed to be a tourist in his own emotions, looking for the right landmark.

The street was empty, though I could still hear the buzz from the next block over near the alleyway where the baby had been found. TV crews, I figured. And cops.

“What's up?” Billy said.

“Probably some junkie or a fight or something,” I said, holding the car door. “Get in.”

There was no traffic, and as the first light came up over the city, the blue light of a perfect summer day, I drove through the empty streets. Billy put his head against the back of the seat and smiled.

“So where's the mystery place?” he said.

“Staten Island,” I said. “Isn't that where you wanted to go? Isn't it? You said that.”

“Just us? We're not going to visit people?”

“Just us.”

“Promise? I mean where will we stay and all?”

“Hank Provone has a house, way out opposite Jersey, he rents it out but there's no one in it now. He gave me the keys.”

“How come?”

“Nothing, I just mean when I knew you'd want to fish. I thought it would be special.”

Billy turned and got on his knees and reached into the back seat where he unzipped his suitcase and dug into the pocket for something. My phone rang. I didn't answer immediately, but it kept ringing and I saw it was Sonny Lippert's private number. I answered.

“What?”

“I might have some good news for you, man.”

“Yeah?”

“It looks possible for Shank,” Sonny said.

“What looks good?”

“It looks maybe possible he killed the little girl, Ruthie Kelly, who lived in Sheepshead Bay. Maybe May Luca too. We got some initial results.”

“That's great. Great,” I said, thinking: Shank was guilty. Shank had done it all.

“I mean possible, man. There're still a lot of things to consider, OK, so don't celebrate, you know? We got more tests to do, we need evidence, we can't get this to a Grand Jury yet. Hold your horses, man. Where are you?”

“I was asleep,” I lied. “At home.”

“Yeah, but not alone, right? You got that squirrely sound.”

I hung up.

“Smile, Artie,” said Billy returning to his seat with a little camera in his hands. He pointed it at me.

“What?”

“I'm taking your picture. I can't find my phone, but I have my camera. I want to keep some pictures of you. I want to remember,” said Billy.

And then we were alone. Just us. Me and Billy, very early Saturday morning going to Staten Island on the ferry. Billy had asked me if we could take the ferry instead of the bridge. I didn't like the idea because more people would see us, but it was early and probably OK and it was what Billy wanted.