Out on the Cutting Edge Read online

Page 13

 

  In the living room he said, "You willing to make a formal identification? In the absence of next of kin, we ought to have somebody ID him. "

  "Hes Eddie Dunphy. "

  "Okay," he said. "Thats good enough. "

  Willa Rossiter was in 1-B. It was a rear apartment and had the same floor plan as Eddies, but it was on the east side of the building so everything was reversed. And someone had modernized the plumbing in her unit, and there was no tub in her kitchen. Instead she had a two-foot-square stall shower in the small water closet off the bedroom.

  We sat in her kitchen at an old tin-topped table. She asked me if Id like something to drink and I said Id welcome a cup of coffee.

  "All Ive got is instant," she said. "And its decaf at that. Are you sure you wouldnt rather have a beer?"

  "Instant decaf is fine. "

  "I think I want something stronger myself. Look at me, how Im shaking. " She held out a hand, palm toward the floor. If it was in fact trembling it didnt show. She went to the cupboard over the sink and got out a fifth of Teachers and poured about two ounces into a Flintstones jelly glass. She sat down at the table with the bottle and the glass in front of her. She picked up the glass, looked at it, then drank off half the whiskey in a single swallow. She coughed, shuddered, heaved a sigh.

  "Thats better," she said.

  I could believe it.

  The kettle whistled and she fixed my coffee, if you could call it that. I stirred it and left the spoon sitting in the cup. Its supposed to cool faster that way. I wonder if it really does.

  She said, "I cant even offer you milk. "

  "I drink it black. "

  "Theres sugar, though. Im positive of that. "

  "I dont use any. "

  "Because you dont want to mask the true flavor of the instant decaf. "

  "Something like that. "

  She drank the rest of her scotch. She said, "You recognized the smell right away. Thats how you knew what you would find. "

  "Its not a smell you forget. "

  "I dont expect to forget it. I suppose you walked into a lot of apartments like that when you were a cop. "

  "If you mean apartments with dead bodies in them, yes, Im afraid I did. "

  "I guess you get used to it. "

  "I dont know if you ever get used to it. You generally learn to mask your feelings, from others and from yourself. "

  "Thats interesting. How do you do that?"

  "Well, drinking helps. "

  "Are you sure you wont-"

  "No, Im positive. How else do you stop yourself from feeling anything? Some cops get angry at the deceased, or express contempt for him. When they bring the body downstairs, more often than not they drag the bag so the body bounces down the steps. You dont want to see that when the guy in the body bag was a friend of yours, but for the cops or the morgue crew, its a way to dehumanize the corpse. If you treat him like garbage, you wont agonize as much over what happened to him, or have to look at the fact that it could happen to you someday. "

  "God," she said. She added whiskey to her glass. It showed Fred Flintstone with a goofy grin on his face. She capped the bottle, took a drink.

  "How long since you were a cop, Matt?"

  "A few years. "

  "What do you do now? Youre too young to be retired. "

  "Im a sort of private detective. "

  "Sort of?"

  "I dont have a license. Or an office, or a listing in the Yellow Pages. Or much of a business, as far as that goes, but people turn up from time to time wanting me to handle something for them. "

  "And you handle it. "

  "If I can. Right now Im working for a man from Indiana whose daughter came to New York to be an actress. She lived in a rooming house a few blocks from here, and a couple of months ago she disappeared. "

  "What happened to her?"

  "Thats what Im supposed to be trying to find out. I dont know a hell of a lot more than I did when I started. "

  "Is that why you wanted to see Eddie Dunphy? Was he involved with her?"

  "No, there was no connection. "

  "Well, there goes my theory. I had a flash just now that hed gotten her to pose for one of those magazines, and the next thing you knew she was in a snuff film, and you can take it from there. Do they really exist?"

  "Snuff films? Probably, from what I hear. The only ones I ever came into contact with were pretty obvious fakes. "

  "Would you watch a real one? If someone had a print and invited you to watch it. "

  "Not unless I had a reason. "

  "Curiosity wouldnt be enough of a reason?"

  "I dont think so. I dont think Id have that much curiosity on the subject. "

  "I wonder what I would do. Probably watch it and then wish I hadnt. Or not and wish I had. Whats her name?"

  "The girl who disappeared? Paula Hoeldtke. "

  "And there was no connection between her and Eddie Dunphy?" I said there wasnt. "Then why did you want to see him?"

  "We were friends. "

  "Longtime friends?"

  "Fairly recent. "

  "What did the two of you do, go shopping for magazines together? Im sorry, thats a callous thing to say. The poor mans dead. He was your friend and hes dead. But the two of you seem like unlikely friends. "

  "Cops and criminals sometimes have a lot in common. "

  "Was he a criminal?"

  "He used to be, in a small-time way. It was an easy thing to grow up into, raised in these streets. Of course this neighborhood used to be a lot rougher than it is now. "

  "Now its getting gentrified. Yuppified. "

  "Its still got a ways to go. There are some hard people living on these blocks. The last time I saw Eddie he told me about a homicide hed witnessed. "

  She frowned, her face troubled. "Oh?"

  "One man beat another to death with a baseball bat in a basement furnace room. It happened some years ago, but the man who swung the bat is still around. He owns a saloon a few blocks from here. "

  She sipped her whiskey. She drank like a drinker, all right. And I dont think it was her first of the day. Id noticed something on her breath earlier, probably beer. Not that that meant she was a lush. When you stop drinking, you become unnaturally sensitive to the smell of the stuff on other people. Shed probably just had a beer with her lunch, the way most of the world does.

  Still, she drank neat whiskey like an old hand. No wonder I liked her.

  "More coffee, Matt?"

  "No thanks. "

  "You sure? Its no trouble, the waters still hot. "

  "Not just yet. "

  "Its pretty lousy coffee, isnt it?"

  "Its not that bad. "

  "You dont have to worry about hurting my feelings. I havent got a whole lot of ego tied up in my coffee, not when it comes out of a jar. There was a time I used to buy beans and grind my own. You should have known me then. "

  "Ill settle for knowing you now. "

  She yawned, extending her arms overhead, stretching like a cat. The movement drew her breasts into relief against the front of her flannel shirt. A moment later she had lowered her arms and the shirt was once again loose on her, but I remained aware of her body, and when she excused herself to go to the bathroom I watched her as she walked from the table. Her jeans were tight on her butt, worn almost white on the cheeks, and I stared after her until she was out of the room.

  Then I looked at her empty glass, and the bottle standing next to it.

  When she came back she said, "I can still smell it. "

  "Its not in the room, its in your lungs. Itll take a while to get rid of it. But the windows are open up there and the apartmentll air out fast enough. "

  "It doesnt matter. He wont let me rent it. "

  "Another one for him to warehouse?"

  "I expect so. Ill have to call him later, tell him he lost a tenant. " She gripped the base of the bottle with one hand, spun the oversize cap with the other. There were
no rings on her fingers, no polish on her nails. She wore a digital watch with a black plastic strap. Her fingernails were clipped short, and one thumbnail showed a white spot near the base.

  She said, "How long has it been since they took the body out? Half an hour? Any minute now therell be somebody ringing my bell, asking if his apartments available. People are like vultures in this town. " She poured a little whiskey into her glass and Fred Flintstone grinned his silly grin. "Ill just say its rented. "

  "And meanwhile people sleep in the subway stations. "

  "And on park benches, but its getting too cold for that now. I know, I see them all over, Manhattans starting to look like a Third World country. But the people on the streets couldnt rent one of these apartments. They havent got a thousand a month. "

  "And yet the ones who do get city housing wind up costing more than that. The city pays something like fifty dollars a night to house people in single rooms in welfare hotels. "

  "I know, and theyre filthy and dangerous. The welfare hotels, I mean. Not the people. " She sipped her drink. "Maybe the people, too. As far as that goes. "

  "Maybe. "

  "Filthy and dangerous people," she sang tunelessly, "in filthy and dangerous rooms. Now theres an urban folk song for the Eighties. " She put both hands behind her head and fiddled with the rubber band that was holding her hair in place. Once again her breasts pushed against the front of her shirt, and again I was drawn to them. She unfastened the rubber band, combed her hair with her fingers, gave her head a shake. Loose, her hair fell past her shoulders and framed her face, softening its lines. Her hair was several different shades of blond, ranging from very light tones to a medium brown.

  She said, "The whole thing is crazy. The whole system is rotten. Thats what we used to say, and it looks as though we were right all along. About the problem, if not about the solution. "

  "We?"

  "Hell, yes, all two dozen of us. Christ. "

  She was, it turned out, a woman with a past. Twenty years ago shed been a college kid in Chicago for the Democratic Convention. Shed lost two teeth to a police baton when Daleys cops lost it and rioted. Already radicalized, the incident propelled her into an SDS offshoot, the Progressive Communist Party.

  "In all innocence," she said, "we wound up with the same initials as angel dust. Of course this was twenty years ago and dust didnt amount to much, but then neither did we. Our total membership never exceeded thirty. And we were going to start a revolution, we were going to turn the country around. Government ownership of the means of production, complete elimination of class lines, an end to discrimination on the basis of age or sex or color- the thirty of us were going to lead the rest of the country to heaven. I think we really believed it, too. "

  She gave the movement years of her life. She would move to some city or town, get a job waitressing or working in a factory, and do whatever she was ordered to do. "The orders didnt necessarily make sense, but unquestioning obedience to party discipline was part of the deal. You werent supposed to notice if the instructions made sense or not. Sometimes two of us would be ordered to move to Dipshit, Alabama, and rent a house and live as man and wife. So two days later Id be shacked up in a trailer with somebody I barely knew, sleeping with him and fighting about whod do the dishes. Id say he was trapped in his old sexist roles if he expected me to do all the housework, and hed remind me that we were supposed to blend in with our surroundings, and how many househusbands with elevated consciousness were you going to find in your average redneck trailer park? And then two months later, when wed just about got it worked out, theyd send him to Gary, Indiana, and me to Oklahoma City. "