Too Far to Say Far Enough: A Novel (21 page)

Hank punched him on the shoulder.

“Go ahead, Mercedes,” I said.

The Flannery issue rolled out like a skein of silk. The only person not nodding when she was through was Flannery herself.

“I didn’t
ask
for the job,” Flannery said. “I can’t help it if I’m better at it than they are.”

Mercedes drew herself up so far I was surprised her head didn’t hit the ceiling fan. “Girl, that is ego talkin’ now.”

“Whose ego?” Hank said.

We all looked at her.

“This child’s,” Mercedes said.

Flannery drew herself up too, although on her it bordered on comical. “If Ms. Willa were here, she would say it’s rude to talk about people like they’re not here. And just so you know, I might only be fourteen, but I am not a child. I’ve seen as much as any of you—”

“I don’t believe that, now,” Zelda said. “Have you ever—”

I put up my hand. “This is not a contest to see who’s suffered the most or done the worst. I think Hank was about to get us on track.”

Arms folded and eyes narrowed, but the respect for Hank was palpable. I didn’t look at Bonner. I knew he was probably edging toward the door.

“We’re all responsible for our own egos,” Hank said. “If we see a Sister acting out we call her on it, but then it’s up to her and God to work it out.”

“God and I aren’t speaking,” Flannery said.

Sherry sniffed. Jasmine said, “See?”

Hank just turned to Flannery. “Look at me, hon.”

Flannery did. That happened when Hank D’Angelo used that tone.

“Your ego isn’t the deepest truth of your being. What Allison has taught us each to do is find our deep self—our God-made self, so it can confront our shallow self—that ego we’re talking about. As soon as you start doing that, you’re talking to God.” Hank swept her gaze over the Sacrament Sisters. “It’s not the job of
your
selves to confront Flannery’s self. It’s your job to make this a safe place for her to do that.”

Ophelia was the only one who nodded this time. Nobody else was ready to buy it. Until Gigi raised her hand.

“Yeah, Geege,” I said.

She bugged her eyes at Hank. “So what you sayin’ is, we got to stay at the table with people we don’t like ’cause they been invited to supper too.”

Hank’s lips twitched into a rare full-blown smile. “That is exactly what I’m saying, only you said it better.”

Gigi jerked a nod. Mercedes said “Mmm-hmm.” Jasmine, naturally, cried softly. Even Rochelle grunted.

“Well then,” Sherry said, “I guess we better do this thing.”

“The Lord be with you,” Hank said.

They all responded.

All except Flannery. But she did take communion. I tried not to think it was out of sheer you-
have-
to-include-me-whether-you-want -to-or-not. It wasn’t up to me to decide what Jesus was going to do with his body.

Flannery wasn’t so sure she wanted to be included, however, when I told her I was leaving her at Sacrament House to study with Owen.

“I’d rather go back to Ms. Willa’s,” she said. “That old geezer makes me crazy.”

“That old geezer bought this house,” I said. “He deserves respect.”

Rochelle handed her a pair of gardening gloves that had seen their share of rake handles and trowels. When Flannery curled her now healing lip at them, Rochelle shoved the things into her hands and grunted her out to the back porch where Owen waited, dentures gleaming in the sun. I decided not to worry about him, not with Rochelle there. Kind of made me wonder how she’d ever been forced into prostitution.

“All right, ladies,” Owen said. “Let’s get to those weeds before they choke out the roots of our seedlings.” He looked up at me. “Where is Gigi?”

“I’ll get her,” I said.

But Gigi was in the dining room, eyes protruding from their sockets, deep in discussion with Hank, who looked at me and shook her head.

I loved that she and I could have whole conversations without saying a word.

That wasn’t going to be the case with Detective Kylie. I used plenty of words getting past the female officer at the front desk of the police station who had an outdated perm and always seemed to like me for some reason. I think we shared a mutual dislike for Kylie.

He wasn’t all that crazy about me either, as was evidenced by the
you again?
look on his face when I burst into his cubicle.

“You couldn’t call first?” he said, tossing his reading glasses onto the desk. The bags under his eyes looked fuller than they had the last time I saw him.

“You couldn’t tell me you let Marcus Rydell go?” I said.

He looked only momentarily startled before he got up from his chair and came around the desk.

“You might as well have a seat,” he said, pointing to a plastic chair.

“I’ll stand.”

He stood too. No way he was going to look up at me. Speaking of egos.

“So you don’t deny it,” I said.

“No, I don’t, although just for the record, Miss Chamberlain, I am under no obligation to tell you anything.”

“Maybe not technically, but ethically, yes, you are. If you’ll recall, you thought Jude Lowery was dead until I told you otherwise.”

“I would have gotten it out of Rydell eventually.”

“What else have you gotten out of him?” I put my hand up as his face headed toward that patronizing expression that made me want to spit. “We both know you don’t give a flip about him except for what he can tell you about Sultan. Matter of fact, you don’t seem to give a flip about anything
else
—including my son’s safety.”

Kylie glowered at me. “Let’s start with you telling me how you know I’ve been talking to Rydell.”

I’d spent a good deal of my time in the red chair the night before preparing to get through this minefield. I was ready for this.

“I make it my business to keep up with who’s being arrested for what,” I said. “Rydell got picked up on a DUI, but somehow he’s no longer a guest in the jail. That’s a matter of public record.”

“Somehow I don’t see you looking that up.”

“All you see is how good it’s going to look for you when you take down the pimp of all pimps. And all I can see is the danger this puts my boy in. If you aren’t going to protect him, then the least you can do is give me enough information to do it myself.”

“You’ve been hanging out with those lawyers too much,” he said.

Actually I was being Nudged so hard I was surprised I wasn’t holding the detective by the collar.

“All right,” Kylie said. “I’ll tell you what little I know, although it’s not much.” He pointed again to the chair. “But sit down, will you? I feel like I’m the one who needs police protection.”

Good. Now we were getting somewhere.

I obliged him and sat with both feet on the floor, body tilted toward him. That posture I
had
learned from hanging out with lawyers.

Kylie obviously wasn’t up on body language cues. He leaned against his desk and shielded himself with his folded arms. “First of all, Marcus Rydell is one of the dumbest sons of … he’s an idiot, which actually works because he says more than he thinks he’s saying.”

“Hooray for stupidity,” I said drily. “So what’s he saying?”

“All of Sultan’s ‘salons’ have closed down, which left me without much of a trail. I needed Rydell to sniff out where he’s landed.”

“Is he still working for Sultan?”

“No.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because Jude Lowery
isn’t
stupid. Rydell’s been picked up one too many times. Sultan’s not going to keep counting on him to keep his mouth shut, no matter how much he’s paid him.”

“How much has he paid him?”

“Enough to keep Rydell in the cars he keeps driving drunk in. I’m sure Sultan’s the one who originally bailed Rydell out four months ago, but I can’t prove it because he used a go-between. Like I said, he’s not stupid.”

“Okay. Go on.”

He gave me an exasperated look. “I’m trying. One of the reasons I haven’t contacted you is that what Sultan appears to be up to is nothing to be concerned about safety-wise.”

“I’d like the opportunity to decide that for myself.”

“How in the world does Jack Ellington deal with you?”

I just looked at him. Chief had been right to warn me not to inflict bodily harm. I was sorely tempted. When I didn’t answer, Kylie continued.

“Sultan’s been trying to get some lesser pimps to work for him as part of a network because all his former people have gone off to do their own thing since he was shot and, as you reported, is now disabled and disfigured.” Kylie shrugged. “He hasn’t been too successful at it because according to Rydell everybody knows he’s crazy.”

“You did say he’s a psychopath.”

Kylie nodded. “Without his stable of hookers, his cash flow has suffered, which has also eroded his drug business.”

I moved to the edge of the chair. “It seems to me that the more desperate he is, the more dangerous he is.”

“That’s why I’m using Rydell to keep me in the loop.”

I felt my eyes narrow. “How about from now on you keep me in the loop.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “I don’t think I have to. I think you already have somebody doing that. Who told you I had a deal with Rydell?”

“Like I said—”

“I’m a cop, Miss Chamberlain. You can’t hold a candle to the people who have lied to me over the last twenty years.”

“Ah. Then maybe you don’t know honesty when you see it. I have another question.”

He sighed through his nose. “What is it?”

“If you know the pimps Sultan has tried to hire, why haven’t you arrested them?”

“Because most of them are out of our jurisdiction. He was the Man here in St. Augustine.”

“Have you reported them to the authorities who could arrest them?”

His brows twisted. “Are you telling me how to do my job now?”

“I’m telling you you’re not doing it at all. You think pimps are basically harmless, that prostitution is a victimless crime. You’re concerned about what they do with that money. You’re thinking about the drugs and the big crime rings. You’re not even giving a thought to the women who are being victimized.”

“Prostitutes aren’t victims. They make their choices—”

“They don’t choose to be beaten. They don’t decide they’d like to be abused several times a night so they can turn whatever they make over to some jackal who has complete power over them.” I was almost off the chair. “They don’t walk into that trap with their eyes open. They’re lured with the world promised to them, but what they get is a world no human being should have to live in no matter how she got there.”

“Then it’s a good thing you find them,” he said. “Because we don’t rehabilitate here. We just enforce the law, and the law says prostitution is a crime.”

“And what about pimping? Is that a crime?”

“Why the—why do you think I’m after Jude Lowery?”

I bit my lip. If I said any more, I would be serving Nick Kent up on a platter. I wasn’t sure I hadn’t already.

“I hope it’s because you want him in prison as much as I do,” I said. “For the murder of Geneveve Sanborn, for openers, and for all the other lives he’s ruined. And I hope you want that to happen before my son’s life is one of them.”

I stood up, and so did Kylie.

“Make no mistake,” he said, voice tight. “We’re close to catching Jude Lowery, very close, and as smart as he is I’m sure he knows it. He isn’t going to make a mistake that will cost him his freedom just to get to your kid, or even you.”

“That’s the smart side,” I said. “What about the psychopathic side?” I took a step forward. “Keep me informed, detective.”

As near as I was to him now, I could see the glitter in his eyes, and I could feel the chill. I was as close to hate as I was the night I looked Jude Lowery in the face. With a shudder I backed away.

“Get him because it’s the right thing to do,” I said. “Not because you despise him. That’s dangerous for all of us.”

I didn’t wait for the biting retort already forming on his lips. I left, and I rode for thirty minutes—until I felt like it was off me, until I didn’t feel the insane passion to destroy that emanated from the detective. I didn’t want that in my soul.

When I was sure I could speak without hawking out nails, I went to C.A.R.S. If Sherry did have a stake in this, she needed to know everything I knew.

It was almost ten o’clock by then, so I was surprised to see the lights off in the shop. When I tried the front door it was locked. I peered through the window and suddenly Sherry’s face was there looking back at me, though her eyes were so glazed I wasn’t sure she saw me at all.

She disappeared, and I was left staring into the darkness again until I made out the shapes of Zelda’s hubcaps in a vicious heap on the floor. Maharry crouched near them, shoulders heaving.

I banged on the glass. “Sherry! It’s Allison! Let me in!”

All I heard was the sound of water abruptly splashing and Sherry’s raspy voice cussing like she hadn’t done in months.

“Sherry!” I shouted again.

But it was Maharry who made his way to the door and jerked at the lock, even as Sherry cried, “Don’t let her in yet, Daddy!”

Maharry opened the door just wide enough for me to slide through and jammed it shut behind me. At least, he must have. From the moment I stepped in, I was aware only of the mayhem around me. Before Sherry could crunch her way across splintered glass, I groped at the wall until I found the switch. The fluorescent lights stuttered on, revealing in their garish glare a museum of horrors.