“I weren’t s’posed to be there,” Essie mumbled. “My fault, see, I got—got told stay onna street, go back after my last one, only car pulled up and he ask me was I workin, had he some money so I get in.”
“What he look like, what car he in?”
“Be a black car. Big, old one. Long car, you digging me? Big long seats in it. An looked clean. Shined up, it were.”
A BT sedan, he guessed she meant. “Old like had big tailfins? Or not so old?”
“Not so old. Brown inside, leather. Only, only when I get me inside—causen he waved me some real lashers, see, a lot of em, saying he wanted the whole night. He were celebrating, see? What he saying. So I getting me in, telling he gotta drive me up around so’s he can give Marky Bill the look-in.” Her voice started getting higher, faster, like panic. “Just like you saying we gotta now, aye? Were tryna do right, I were, I were tryna do—”
“No worryin, aye?” He glanced at Berta; when she nodded he did reach out, touched the blanket-lump he thought were Essie’s leg. Only for a second, but he felt better having done it, and she calmed down a little. “Nobody mad at you, Essie. You ain’t in trouble. Swearing you ain’t.”
She looked at him, at Berta. Double-checking. In the second of silence he became aware of sounds from the hall, low sing-songy chanting. They were doing magic, he guessed, whatany magic it were they did. Sex magic, usually, to make them jobs easier. Almost all of em carried some in their purses; well, he’d never met one who ain’t.
But their whole world was a mystery to him, for all that he worked with em. All women-only; whores had secrets they never told men. Made sense to him. Only it made him uncomfortable there, feeling that tickling feeling, knowing what happened to Essie. Were the last thing he wanted to be feeling just then.
Essie gave a big sigh, calming herself. “Only when I getting in him car I seeing it stolen. No keys, aye? Broken open the, the part where the keys s’posed to go. All broken. So I knowing he steals the car an I thinking why he do that, and guess maybe why, an—an … I ain’t recalling any else. Ain’t recalling till I’m onna ground and Sandbag be standing over me.”
He nodded. She’d been knocked out, then. Fucker must have seen she knew what was gonna happen to her, and knocked her out fast afore she could open the door.
It was getting hard to think, the kind of hard always happened when he started getting mad. Like he barely had control over he body, like something swelling in his chest threatening to choke him. He closed his eyes for a second, took a deep breath like Essie’d done. Later. He had a list, a few people had some owes, and when he left here he’d go find one of em. At least one of em. Lee Poke had some heavy owes, and had for a long time; he’d lied and hidden and ain’t kept promises so was due a couple of broken bones, and Terrible couldn’t think of much he’d rather do at that moment than give him them.
But he couldn’t do it yet. He had to listen Essie out, and get what he could. “What he looking like? Sound like, he got an accent or whatany like that?”
She shrugged, a little shift of the blanket over her shoulders. Her face still seemed like it floated there above it, a pale spot against the dark wall. “Light hair. Real thick, an kinda longish, dig, like big. Big hair.”
“Curly?”
“Naw, no curls, just … ain’t slicked down. Fluffy like a dog, you digging? An big-ass glasses he have on.”
Fuck. Were a wig, he bet. A wig and big glasses, keep Essie from seeing his face real. Terrible looked down and saw he were clenching he fist so tight his fingers were white. “What he sounding like, when he talkin?”
“Like any else.”
“From here, aye?”
She nodded.
What he’d expected. And really, were a good thing, too, causen in Downside he had a good chance on catching the fucker. Iffen it were just somebody came from another part of town thinking be fun to rape hookers, he’d have more a problem. “Got any else? Any at all, Essie, all being a help.”
“Ain’t … ain’t can think on any. Oh! Smelled, he done. He smell.”
Terrible glanced at Berta. That were no help at all. Plenty in Downside ain’t spent too much time showering. “Like him weren’t clean, meaning?”
“Naw. Like him were too clean. Like soap way too strong. Too clean. Making my nose itch, thinking, but ain’t really had me time to give it much notice, dig, causen I weren’t in the car much long … ”
She started crying then, really crying hard, and Terrible stood up. Time to go, he figured. Leave the dames handle it with themselves; he were an intrusion. “Ain’t yon fault,” he said again. “True thing, Essie.”
And it weren’t her fault. It was his. His causen he ain’t caught the dude already, his causen obviously the plan he set up to keep the whores safe ain’t worked. Well, he guessed that one weren’t all on him, since it were Bump and Berta’s plan, too, but still. It had failed, and he ain’t found the dude yet, so this was his fault.
He checked his watch. Just past four. Streets was still busy, too. Time to go hunt some people down, clear his head a little so maybe, maybe, he could actually think instead of just wanting to kill somebody. He weren’t certain it’d work, but it was worth a try.
Bump ain’t got up til after three, on the usual, which were fine with Terrible causen he were tired heself. After breaking Lee Poke’s arm and giving a couple cutpurses a hard lesson on how the Market weren’t the place for them to be working, he’d gone home and slept. Not a lot; he’d calmed down some, but not enough, especially when Amy’s face came into he head again and he remembered how that were over, and over causen he’d treated her wrong.
But he’d slept, anyroad. And he’d heard from a couple of he snitches, and he’d gotten a call from one of Bump’s brain-men, so when he hit Bump’s place around five he had some knowledge to share.
Good thing, too, causen Bump were furious. His gold toe-ring flashed like a distress signal, he were pacing so fast, and he eyes and lips were narrow as Terrible had ever seen.
He’d been cleaning his guns. They sat in a deadly row on the table, cold and ready. Every once in a while Bump stretched a hand toward em, a reflex action. Like how little kids reached out to make sure them blankies were still there.
Terrible flipped open he notebook, once Bump finished cussing at him. He ain’t paid much attention to the cussing. Weren’t him Bump were so mad at, he were just letting off steam. “Got some knowledge on that dude Archie, the one I tell you on. Works for a place makes bullshit magic. Place got busted last year for illegal power an shit. Got—”
“Where you getting that from?”
He weren’t gonna give an apology on that one. He weren’t owing an apology on that one. “Chess. Gave she the ask on—”
Bump sighed. “Just ain’t could fuckin stay off, yay? Be like—”
Terrible straightened his back and gave Bump that look, the one meant he better quit on it. “She ain’t knowing why. Just gave she the ask, causen be shit she got knowledge on.”
A second or two, then Bump looked down, sniffled hard, and nodded. “Yay. Yay, dig it, I do, be right asking.”
Aye, he better fucking say that. “So he working someplace does some dirty magic, dig, an got me a call today from Sleepy Dan, sayin he knows him a dame went home with Archie a couple weeks back. Said him weren’t right in him head. Said were real violent. In bed, dig.”
Bump looked doubtful, and Terrible knew why. He’d had the same thinking at first, til Sleepy Dan explained better. He added, fast, “Like hitting she an all, dig? Punching. Ain’t could get it up lessin she were cryin, Sleepy Dan say.”
“Yay, seein you fuckin meaning now.” Bump lit a smoke, kept pacing. “Thinkin be he, then? He the fuckin piece of shit gonna die?”