“Name’s Tom Shannon. I work for the city. Drive a street sweeper. I’m president of a chapter of Narcotics Anonymous. Biggest chapter in the city. Me, I try to do what I can to help the people who want to help themselves. I tried to get a chapter started over here in the Jeffersons, but there wasn’t no interest. You gotta want to help yourself.
“Maybe that’s what’s wrong. Jane was trying to save a few little kids and I was trying to save the grownups that wanta save themselves, and nobody was doing anything for all these people who are locked in the cycle. Nobody was attacking the trade. So the trade killed Jane.”
“A man killed Jane.”
“No, the crack trade killed her. That guy who pulled the trigger, he was an addict and a dealer. He had it on him. So he ran from the cops. And he shot Jane because she was standing in front of him screaming. No other reason. She was just there. All the people who are making money from the crack business killed her as sure as if they pulled the trigger. They don’t give a damn who they hurt. They don’t give a damn if the world blows up, as long as they get theirs. They killed Jane.”
The young woman was sitting by herself now, drying her eyes, listening to Tom Shannon. He was looking straight into Yocke’s eyes.
“Now I’m telling you and you can write it any way you want, but I’m not going to be a victim anymore. Jane was a victim and I was a victim. No more! I’m not going to be a victim anymore!”
CHAPTER NINE
Bernie, this is Jefferson Brody. I got it! The widow signed.”
“Glad to hear it, Tee.”
“She was reluctant but—”
“Yeah. Ya did good. I thought you would. That’s what I told the guys. Tee screwed the pooch but he’ll make it good. Wait and see.”
“I appreciate—”
“Send me the papers. I’ll be talking to you in a few days.”
“Bernie, have you found that woman? I’d—”
“Working on that, Tee. I’ll be in touch.”
The phone went dead on T. Jefferson Brody. He cradled the receiver and sat staring at the dark cherry paneling on his office walls. He had had to pay Mrs. Lincoln $450,000 for the check-cashing business, but now didn’t seem to be the time to lay that on Bernie. Although Bernie was a good client, he had his rough edges.
The black bitch with the big tits who had conned him and robbed him — she was going to pay. T. Jefferson Brody intended to teach her a lesson she would never forget. And that little weasel ambulance chaser who helped her. He rubbed his hands together as he contemplated his revenge.
But that would have to wait.
He buzzed his secretary on the intercom. “Hilda, get me Senator Cherry’s office, please.”
“Yes, Mr. Brody.”
Thanos Liarakos completed the paperwork at the hospital’s administration office, then took the suitcase to his wife’s room on the third floor and helped her select an outfit from it. She made only one or two swipes at her hair with a comb and didn’t bother with makeup or lipstick, although they were in the case. Liarakos said nothing. She was dressed and nervously pacing the room when a nurse arrived with a wheelchair for the grand exit.
“Where are we going?” Elizabeth asked, finally, when they were in the car.
As if she didn’t know. Liarakos muttered, “To the airport.”
“You mean we’re not even going by the house so I can say good-bye to the children?”
“Oh, can it, Elizabeth! You talked to them this morning on the telephone and they’re both in school right now.”
“Well, I just wanted to see my home again for a few minutes. And I need some other outfits.”
“I packed exactly the outfits you told me to pack.”
“I forgot a few.”
“You’re going to the clinic now. Right fucking now!”
“You are a bastard.”
He pulled over to the curb. The driver behind honked and gestured as he went by. Liarakos paid no attention.
“You can get out here or you can go to the clinic. Your choice.”
“I don’t have any money.”
He put the transmission in park and stared out the window.
“Oh, Thanos, you know how much I love you. You know how much I love the children. I’ll leave the stuff alone. I promise! Tell you what, darling. Let’s go home and put on some soft music and I’ll put on that gorgeous negligée you got me for my birthday. I’ll show you just how much I love you.” She caressed his arm, then his hair. “Darling, it’ll be just like it was when we were first married, on those Sunday mornings when there were just the two of us. Oh, Than—”
“You don’t know what this costs me, Elizabeth. You really don’t.”
“Darling, I—”
“You don’t have any idea!” He pushed her hands away.
“You don’t love me,” she snarled, “You’re just thinking of your precious law practice, what your boss might think. Well, by God, I—”
Liarakos reached across her and opened the passenger door.
“Out.”
She began crying.
He sat watching the traffic flow by, his face averted, his right hand on the wheel and his right shoulder up.
She was still sobbing uncontrollably when a police cruiser pulled up alongside. The officer twirled his finger. Liarakos rolled down his window. “Move it, Mac.”
He pulled the lever down into drive and got the car into motion. Beside him Elizabeth blew her nose on tissues and continued to sob.
Traffic on the expressway to Dulles rolled along at slightly illegal speeds all the way to the airport. Liarakos parked and got the suitcase out of the trunk. He came around the car and opened the door for Elizabeth. She made a production out of blowing her nose one last time and stuffing the tissue paper into the trash bag hanging from the cigarette lighter.
He took her arm and guided her toward the terminal.
“I’ve got five dollars and seventy-two cents in my purse.”
“You don’t need money at the clinic.”
“But what if I want to get my hair done somewhere else? And I may need to take a taxi to the clinic.”
“They’ll meet you at the airport. They have all the other times. Remember?”
“But Thanos, what if they don’t? I’ll be stranded. Give me a hundred to cover incidentals.”
“Elizabeth, for Christ’s sake! You’re just making it harder on both of us.”
“You have no idea how difficult this is for me. That’s the problem. You only think of yourself. If you love me, think about me! I’m your wife, or have you forgotten?”
“I haven’t forgotten.”
He gave the ticket to the agent and checked the bag. “Window seat, please.”
“Just Mrs. Liarakos?”
“Yes.”
The agent gave them the gate number. “Boarding in fifteen minutes.”
“Thanks.”
They waited near the gate. Liarakos stood by the windows where he could see the shuttle buses going back and forth to the airplanes. Elizabeth walked away and found a seat by herself.
He watched her reflection in the glass. Every movement she made was like something from an old memory that you remember with pain. In the past when she had a moment she would remove her compact from her purse and check her reflection, touch up her hair, see that her eye shadow and lipstick were just so. Not today. She just sat there with her purse in her lap, her hands resting upon it, while she idly scanned people coming and going and sitting and reading.
When they called the plane Liarakos escorted her to the gate agent and handed him the ticket. He leaned toward her and whispered in her ear. “Get well.”
She glanced at him, her face neutral, then went through the door into the shuttle bus.