"What're you doing here?"
I looked hard into her innocent eyes, wondering how old she was.
"Exercising my dog— she needs room to run."
"You let that big dog off the leash?"
"Meaning I don't look like I run with her?"
"You're not dressed for it." She chuckled.
"I'm on my way to work."
"What do you do?" Hands on hips, tip of her tongue just poking past her lips.
I looked up at her, face flat. "What do you do?"
"I'm a hit-woman," smile slashing across her broad face. "Trying to kill this cellulite." Smacking the back of one thigh.
"I hope you don't overdo it."
"Why?"
"Women do that. You all have a mass psychosis about weight."
"If we do, it's men who gave it to us."
"Not guilty," I said, trying a smile.
"That's what they all say," she shot back, pulling her sweatshirt over her head, tying it around her waist. Her breasts flared under a white T-shirt as she arched her back.
I lit a cigarette. Her nose didn't wrinkle.
"Could I pat your dog?" she asked.
"Only if she likes you," I told her.
"How would I know?"
"If she likes you, she'll…Wow! Look at that," I said, marveling at how Pansy lay down in response to my hand signal.
"That means she likes me?"
"Sure."
She dropped to her knees on the grass, stroking Pansy expertly, talking to her.
"You have a dog?"
"I had a dog. Blackie. When I was a kid. I still miss him."
Pansy's slab of a tongue lolled from her wide mouth, enjoying the attention.
"Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?" she asked.
"Yes."
"I'm Belinda Roberts."
I held out my hand for her to shake, told her one of my names.
"I'll write down my number. Do you have a piece of paper?"
"I'll remember it," I told her.
She pulled my eyes with hers, seeking the truth. Finally nodded.
"Okay," she said.
Got to her feet, tied the sweatshirt around her neck, jogged off. Very fine.
74
The white limo whispered by again. Empty now.
Done for the day, I got to my feet, unsnapped Pansy's lead, told her to heel. She took the point on my left side, shoulder against my thigh.
I cut through the trees to where I'd parked. A black man in a black suit sitting on a tree stump stood up as I approached, a dull silver automatic in his hand.
"Just stand still, mahn."
I stopped, Pansy next to me.
"I don't have any money," I said, letting fear snake its way into my voice to settle him down.
"This is no robbery, mahn. Just come along with me. Somebody wants to talk with you."
"Who?"
"Don't be stalling now, mahn. Just come along, take a nice ride."
"I'm not going anywhere, pal."
"Yes, you're coming, Mr. Burke. See, we know you. Don't be stupid, now."
"You won't hurt me?"
"No, mahn, we don't hurt you."
"What about my dog?…I can't leave her here."
"Just tie her to a tree, mahn. You be back very soon. Nobody take a big dog like that."
"But…"
"Last chance, mahn."
"Okay, okay," I said, reassuring him, reaching over to snap the leash on my dog, talking to her. Just as I was about to fasten the leash, I said, "Pansy, sit!," watching the gunman almost imperceptibly relax at the words just as Pansy launched herself without a sound, clamping her vise-grip jaws on his arm. I picked his gun off the grass, snapped "Out!" at Pansy, and she backed off. The gunman was down, moaning, left hand gripping his right forearm, blood bubbling between his fingers.
"My arm! She crushed the bone, mahn! It's all water in there."
"Who wants me?" I asked him, bending close, patting his body, looking for another gun— came up empty. "You need a doctor, need one bad," I said. "Tell me and you can go."
Creamy dots on his dark-skinned face, pain in his eyes.
"You want the dog again?" I asked.
His eyes shot around the clearing. It was empty, nobody around. I felt ice in my spine— was Clarence in on this?
"Thana," he muttered.
"What?"
"Queen Esther Thana, mahn. The Mamaloi." His eyes sweeping the area again, looking for something.
"You know my name. Tell her to call me. On the phone, understand?"
He grunted something, sounded like yes. The gunman could walk himself into the Emergency Room. Where the triage nurse would ask him if he had Blue Cross.
I turned away, pocketed his gun, slapped my thigh for Pansy to come along.
Clarence was sitting on a bench near my car. "Better let me hold the gun, mahn," he said.
I palmed it to him.
"There was another one with him," Clarence said. "They have a car waiting for you. One block down," indicating with his eyes. "Better come with me."
He got up and started in the other direction. I walked next to him, Pansy right alongside.
"What happened to the other one?" I asked him.
The cobalt eyes were calm. "He's still there," Clarence said.
75
Clarence opened the back door of his Rover. I gave the signal and Pansy clambered inside. Clarence threw a smooth U-turn on CPW, heading back downtown.
"Where shall I drop you, mahn?"
"How come you were around today, Clarence?"
He shrugged his slim shoulders, face expressionless. "I'm just a soldier, mahn."
"Then take me to the general," I told him.
76
Clarence turned east on Fifty-seventh, working his way to the FDR, then south to the Brooklyn Bridge.
"That's some dog you got, mahn. Never saw something so big move so fast."
"She's the best," I said, reaching back to pat my pal.
"Pretty woman you got there too, mahn."
"Pretty woman?"
"Yes, mahn. In the park. Pretty woman. Nice big butt on her. Never trust a woman with one of those little-boy butts, it's a sure sign."
"Who told you that?"
"Everybody knows, mahn. Big butt, big heart."
I thought of my Blue Belle, gone now. The fire-scar on Flood's rump. Blossom walking away. Maybe it was true.
I rolled down my window, lit a smoke. "You saw the woman in the park?"