Blue Belle - Andrew Vachss [120]
"Okay," she sighed.
I took the handcuffs from the drawer, hooked one cuff to her right wrist, the other to the back of a chair. She took the long–handled speed key from the desk, holding it in her left hand.
"Go!"
She twisted her wrist, exposing the key slot, slammed the speed key home, twisted it, pulled free.
"Beautiful."
She stood up. "I am. A beautiful young girl. Like you taught me."
151
LATE THAT night. Belle on her knees in front of me, her head bent between my legs. Licking me like a cat cleans her kittens. Thick thatch of hair falling. I felt the beads of the necklace lapping against my thigh.
Her head came up. Whispering in the dark. "You think it's too much?"
"What?"
"This. The way I am. I'm just like this with you. I swear it."
"What're you talking about?"
"I want your hands on me—I want you inside me. All the time. Everyplace inside me. When you just pat me on the bottom, I get wet."
"It's your way of dealing with it. Everybody's lying but you and me, Belle. To each other. This all started out with a lie. Some punk lawyer, chumping me off, he thought. And Marques, with his fifty–grand bounty. He probably collected a hundred. Maybe made a side bet about taking the van off the street. I lied to Max to get him out of the way. Mama helped me. McGowan trying to tell me the federales had the massage parlor. Me telling him I'm going to give him the van, and Sally Lou too. There's no letter for him—there never will be. The Mole, he could never tell Michelle he's made a Nazi–hunter out of the boy. Morelli, he thinks there's a story in this for him. Mortay. He's the only one who told the truth."
His name hung over us in the dark. I could see it. Neon–red, dripping.
"I looked in his eyes. He wasn't lying. He's earned his name. Scared me past death. Till I came out the other side. My old friend's here. On the other side. Hate. It didn't save my basement, but it saved my life. Plenty of times. You got your way, I got mine."
"Will it stop? When it's over?"
"It might for you," I told her. "It won't for me."
152
I CALLED Mama at seven the next morning.
"Anything?"
"Nobody call."
"Good."
"Nobody come either," she said. "Too bad."
I left Belle a note, telling her I'd be back soon with something to eat. Took my time about it. Fresh rolls, big slab of cream cheese, two six–packs of beer, pineapple juice, seltzer. I grabbed a copy of the Daily News. Bob Herbert's column came out on Thursdays—he'd been pounding the cops about the Ghost Van, the only one writing about it.
When I got back to the office, Pansy let me in, a distracted look on her face. She sniffed the food. "You been out?" I asked her.
"She sure has." Belle's voice from the back room. "Come on back here, you nasty old thing, let's finish this."
Pansy loped off. Belle was on her hands and knees, wearing just a bra and pants. Pansy ran over to her, lowering her head like a charging bull. They butted each other back and forth, going nose to nose. Belle was bigger and heavier, but Pansy wouldn't budge an inch, snarling happily.
"Are you nuts? What if she snaps at you?"
"She won't do that—this is a fair fight."
They pushed at each other, faces pressed together, Belle making grunting sounds of her own. Finally she dropped to the floor, face–down. Pansy sniffed the back of her neck. "You win," Belle muttered.
I put the food together. "What was that all about?"
"I told her I didn't mind her threatening me before, but if she messed with me again, I was gonna kick her ass."
"You're out of your mind."
"It was fun. You want to try?"
"Not this year. With either of you."
Belle went into the shower. I mixed the pineapple juice and seltzer, added some ice. Then I stuffed a roll full of cream cheese and gave it to Pansy. Belle came out, wrapped in a towel. Helped herself to the food.
"Beer for breakfast?"
"Save it for later. And don't give Pansy any."
Belle dropped to her knees, hands in front of her like a dog's paws. "Just one?"
Pansy stood next to her, watching me closely.
"Yeah, all right. I give