He arrived ten minutes late at the saloon, looking the same to Marlene, who hadn’t seen him in a couple of years. A slight man, he had a boyish, freckled face and crinkly red hair. His eyes were watery blue, trimmed with the decorative red stigmata of the serious lush.
Maher kissed Marlene on the cheek loudly, said a variety of flattering, and false, things in his consciously adopted stage Irishman’s brogue, ordered a whiskey, drank it, ordered another, a different malt, for purposes of comparison, drank that, compared the two, declared the second superior, ordered another of the second to reward the firm, ordered a steak, ate it washed down with a pint of Guinness, all the while talking delightful nonsense, and then, pushing away his plate, his face flushed red, his eyes rolling, asked, “And now, my benefactress, what is the little favor that Dr. Maher, late of Trinity College, Dublin, can do to repay all this magnificence?”
Marlene said, “I want you to find and steal three autopsy reports.” She explained the situation and why she needed them, adding, “The word is, there’s something fishy about them, and the D.A.’s office has taken them in as part of an investigation.”
Maher gave her an inquiring look. “Wherever did you hear that?”
“It’s around,” answered Marlene. “Why, aren’t you aware of it?”
“I am not, which is the same as saying the creature does not exist. As you know, m’dear, I have no life. I am totally dedicated to my profession. Many and many’s the night I’ve labored until dawn in those grim precincts …”
“You mean, sleeping it off?”
“… labored, as I say, and never a whisper of it have I heard. However, this canard on our glorious abbatoir shall not go unchallenged while Maher draws breath. I shall … exactly what was it that you wanted, my girl?”
“Steal these three files.” She inscribed a business card with the names Stupenagel had given her and the dates of death, and slid it across the table.
Maher glanced at it and put it away, saying, “ ‘Steal,’ madam, is not a word that sits comfortably on a gentleman’s tongue. However, since it’s your own dear self and a matter of honor, Maher’s your man. And another drink to the success of the enterprise?”
Marlene paid the tab and left Malachy’s with Maher’s promise to call that evening with the results of his search. She took a cab and arrived home to the usual hysterical greeting by the big black dog, whom she fed, and then checked her service. Among the messages was one from Mattie Duran. Marlene returned it immediately.
“You remember Vickie Sills?” said Duran without preamble. “You met her when you were here. She’s got a problem you could help her with.”
“Vickie …?”
“The knee. The pit bull?”
Marlene recalled the knee. “What’s up?”
“I got her into a two-family house in Bensonhurst. The husband apparently found out where it was and paid them a visit last night.”
“What went down?”
“The usual. He tried to break in. Had that damn dog with him. She called the cops, but by the time they got there he was gone. Now she’s terrified and doesn’t want to go back. She’s here now with the kids.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Take her out there again, calm her down, sit with her. He’ll be back.”
“And then what?”
“Use your imagination,” said Duran. “Show him his errors.”
“Good plan,” said Marlene. “I’ll be by in a little while.”
Marlene called the service and left a message for Harry, telling him what she had planned. She changed into her pirate clothes-the jeans no longer buttoning but coverable with the sweater-applied her patch, walked the dog, shopped for supper, dropped off some shirts at the Chinese laundry on Mott, and then it was time to pick up Lucy, who was delighted to learn that they were going to visit Isabella at the shelter.
At the shelter, Marlene played for a while with her daughter and the silent girl in Isabella’s cardboard hut in the playroom, which Lucy thought hilarious. Marlene and Isabella were the babies and Lucy was the Mommy, provoking breathless fits of giggles from Lucy and vague Mona Lisa smiles from the older girl. Lucy also imposed on her mother for some sleight-of-hand demonstrations, and this developed into a full-scale magic show involving all the other kids as well. Coins jumped out of ears to the satiety of all. Time flew. It was past five before Marlene thought of her meeting with Mattie Duran.
Entering the little office, she got a long, humorous, appraising look. “I like your outfit,” said Duran.
“It’s designed to strike fear into the hearts of my enemies,” said Marlene. “Those that don’t laugh. It’s going to be a real sketch in my eighth month.”
“Yeah, well, Ernie Sills is no laughing matter.”
“This is the husband?”
“Yeah,” said Duran, wrinkling her nose. “He’s a baker. Skinny little nasty guy with a nasty dog. He used to set the animal to watch her when he was at work. She couldn’t go out, and her folks couldn’t visit. When he got his load on, he used to make it chase her and the kids around the house. A real joker, Ernie. She finally called me and I went over there with the Animal Control people and got her and the two kids out of there. He got his dog back from the pound, by the way, before he thought of looking for his family. First things first.”
“You ever talk to him?”
“Hell, no!” Duran snapped, and seemed surprised at the question. “Why should I, the bastard?”
“I don’t know-he could have a story. It would be something to find out what type he is. He can’t be very happy if he behaves like that.”
Duran gave her a withering look. “Oh, save it for church!”
“I thought the point was that we weren’t supposed to,” said Marlene calmly.
Duran lowered her heavy brows and gave Marlene thirty seconds of the Indian stare. Then she said, “Honey, you want to be a social worker, get those unhappy families back together, you have definitely come to the wrong rancho. Why do you think I got quarter-inch steel plates and heavy window grating on this place? You think it’s a fashion statement? What we got here is the people nobody else will take because their old men threaten to shoot up and burn down any place that takes them in. Send them to jail? Yeah, sure, they send them to jail, three months, a year; then they’re right back out doing the same number. Of course, if they’re solid citizens, like your friend Ernie Sills, they get probation and R.O.R.: don’t do it again, boy, you hear? Yes, Judge, I sure won’t.”
“I only meant-”
“No social work, Marlene. Protection and deterrence, that’s the business.”
It was irritating to be lectured like this, especially in terms that Marlene had once herself used at the D.A. Without much thought she put in, “You sound like a cop, Mattie. Which is surprising, considering you did all that time …”
Duran’s face darkened to the color of damp rawhide. “You’ve been snooping,” she said in a tight voice.
“My partner, actually. Harry is very particular about who we do business with, and, you know, we’re detectives. I figure you kept the loot, which is how come you can run this place. Where did you stash it, anyway?”
“No comment. I guess you heard about the other thing.”
“Killing your father? Yeah, that too.”
Duran relieved herself of a great sigh. “He wasn’t my father. My father died when I was four. He was my stepfather. Not that it matters, but he started fucking me when I was eleven. When I was sixteen, he started chasing Carmen, my half sister. She was ten at the time. So I stuck a gun under his chin while he was sleeping one off on the couch and blew his brains out. I never lost a minute of sleep over it either. Carmen’s a nurse in El Paso, married, two kids. Very respectable. We don’t talk. You want to do some social work at that, now?”