Blue Belle - Andrew Vachss [109]
Pansy came downstairs, strolled to a corner, and closed her eyes. Belle threw off the blanket, came to where I was working at the desk.
"I want to help."
"You want to help, put some clothes on."
"Why?"
"Because you're distracting me. And because I told you to."
She leaned over the desk, her breasts against my face. "Do they smell like that Tiger stuff?"
"No."
"Take a deep breath," she said, pushing the back of my head to her.
"They smell like you."
"Still want me to put my clothes on?"
"Yeah."
She threw me a pout, switched her hips hard walking away. I heard the shower go on, went back to work.
I covered a yellow legal pad with scrawls, but the list was in my head. Ghost Van. Baby hookers. Mortay. Ramón. The dead man El Cañonero left in the Chelsea playground. Pain–for–gain. Ghost Van won't eat dark meat. Chilly menace like fog, working close to the ground. The peep–show token. Sin City. Church where they worship the ice god. Basement duel. And Sally Lou.
I felt a tap on my shoulder. Belle, a yellow sweatshirt covering her to her thighs. "You said I could help."
"Sit down," I said, patting the desk. "Listen to me play it out."
She planted herself on the desk, hands in her lap. Watchful.
"This all started with the Ghost Van, remember? Comes off the river, shoots some little girls. Marques doesn't care why; he just wants it off the streets. So he reaches out for me. I start looking around, and this Mortay shows up. Puts the Prof in the hospital. So he's linked to the van some kind of way."
She lit a cigarette, nodding to show me she was following along.
"Except that he's not just a bodyguard—he's a freak. Hitting dojos, challenging the leaders. We know he fought a duel with some Japanese karateka. In the Sin City basement. You ever work there?"
"No. You have to mix with the customers."
"Okay. The Ghost Van, it only hits young girls. And only white girls. The night I went out to meet Mortay, when I came back so scared? A guy got killed. The cops pulled his prints. One of them matched one they got from the switch–car for the Ghost Van. So this Mortay, he's not just linked, he's connected too."
I lit a smoke for myself. It was good to use two hands. Belle was listening so hard her shoulders shook.
"Mortay's stooge, this Ramón guy. With the diamond in his ear. He's a pain–junkie. Likes to hurt women, gets off on it. He's the gunman—Mortay only uses his hands. And now I find out that Sin City's owned by this mob guy. Sally Lou. He's a sleaze–dealer. Hard–core stuff. Kiddie porn, snuff—you want it, he makes it."
"You think this Mortay works for the mob?"
"No. I looked in his eyes. He don't work for anyone. But that doesn't mean he wouldn't do stuff…."
"Why would he…?"
"I'm not sure. But it all adds up. Look at the maps. The Ghost Van has to have a place to land. Someplace close by where it hunts. Times Square. Sin City—the basement's big enough for hundreds of people to watch a duel. That's where it's got to be."
"I don't get it."
"Mortay has to be doing something for Sally Lou. If the Ghost Van's down there, then they're all hooked in. The reason the cops can't catch freaks, they don't know them. They don't ask people who do. Wasn't for informants, the federales couldn't find a donkey in Tijuana. Sex–death freaks, they love vans. I don't know why, but they do. And they feed each other—put two of them together, you got more than twice as much evil as two people could do on their own. Ramón loves pain, Mortay deals death. I don't know what the third guy was into. It doesn't matter. The Hillside Strangler—it was two freaks. That Green River Killer? The one who's been murdering all those street girls out in Washington State for years?"
She nodded.
"I think the cops are making a mistake. Looking for one guy. It sounds like a team to me. Feels that way."
Belle shuddered. I put my hand on her bare thigh. It was cold.
"People always think they know what to