Blue Belle - Andrew Vachss [117]
"My girls don't…"
"I know they don't. But you know some who do, right? I just need one. She takes the pain–tricks, your girls take the rest. You keep the cash. This one guy comes in, the show's over."
"My girls don't…Hey!"
McGowan stepped in behind me; I saw Morales roll up behind Marques.
"You know who this is?" I asked Marques.
"Yeah, man," he sneered. "Every player knows Detective McGowan."
"You don't want to know him better, you'll shut up and listen. He's here to tell you something."
McGowan leaned over my shoulder. "Nobody's going to bother Sadie's Sexsational for a couple of weeks, Mister Dupree. Nobody. Not the wise guys, not the heat. Got it?"
"I got it."
Morales pressed in against Marques. "Get this. You go along, you get along. You don't, I got a little girl. Says you tried to pull her. Says you had mucho coke in your ride. More than enough for a warrant. I toss your car, I find a couple of fucking kilos. Any fucking time I want."
Marques nodded. "I'm in. You got it."
McGowan spoke to him. "You got two days. Friday night, nine o'clock, you be there. With your girls."
"It's in the bank, man."
Morales pressed closer. "Or you're in the joint."
Marques walked back to his car alone. He didn't look back.
"I see your hand got better," McGowan said.
"I got more cards in it," I told him.
144
I WAITED until McGowan and his partner pulled off before I went back to the Pontiac.
"What's going on?" Belle asked.
"It's coming together, little girl."
I drove a few feet to the pay phone, left the engine running, dialed Mama.
"It's me. Michelle call?"
"Yes. Come here tonight. Eleven."
145
BACK IN the office, I let Pansy out, told Belle to stay where she was. I went down to the basement, came back with a big metal box. Belle watched as I laid the stuff out. I lit a smoke, left it smoldering on the edge of the desk while I worked. My hands were moving on the equipment, but I was watching a different picture in my mind. Seeing it happen.
I picked up the cigarette, took a last drag.
"Belle, honey, would you take off your top?"
She pulled it over her head.
"The bra too, okay?"
She unsnapped it, waited. Her breasts made a joke of gravity, the blue necklace falling just to the cleft. It wouldn't work like that. "Wait here," I told her.
I came back with a white T–shirt of mine. "Try this."
She slipped into it. Her breasts fought the thin material, the cleavage gone. No good.
"You have any real thin tops? Gauzy, maybe? The kind you can see through?"
"Like a nightgown?"
"That might work…if you have a real short one."
"I have a couple. Some teddies too."
"No. I need something that kind of opens down the middle. So your breasts stay separated."
"Why, baby? I can go buy anything you want."
I held up a pistol. From the side, it looked exactly like a Colt Python .357 magnum, even down to the ventilated rib across the top of the barrel. "You know what this is?"
"A gun."
"It's not, though. It's a gas gun. Works off CO2 cartridges. It shoots these things," I said, showing her a handful of red plastic balls.
"What are they?"
"Paint pellets. Sixty–two–caliber. The survival–freaks use them when they play their little war games. The pellet hits you, it leaves a red splat, so you know who got hit."
"Do they hurt?"
"They sting. Especially up close. And you can feel them smack into you."
"What'd you want with it?"
"I got a plan, Belle. And part of it, I got to pretend to shoot you. Up close. Real close."
She pulled the T–shirt over her head. "Go ahead. Let me see how it feels."
"No. When it happens, you've got to feel it for the first time. You know it doesn't hurt, you won't act nervous enough."
"Honey…
"You don't want to do it, say so."
"There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."
"I know," I said, holding her against me. I gave her a kiss. "Let me work now. I have to see it."
"See what?"
"See it happen. Like in karate, when they train you to punch.