Manhattan Noir - Lawrence Block [82]
Danny helped her with her coat and then they walked out of the diner. On the street she put her arm in his and matched his stride down Broadway. Danny felt good and kept taking sideway glances at her and smiling.
“We should have done this a long time ago. This …” he said, patting her arm with his hand, “feels good. Feels right.”
“You asked when you did. Who knows? Maybe I wouldn’t have went if you asked in the past. It all happens when it is supposed to.”
They walked down Broadway chatting about their days.
They entered Benny’s and Rosa smiled as he led her to the bar.
“They’ll get us a table in like fifteen minutes. The Times did a review last month. A good one. All the Manhattan people are coming up now.”
“Danny, we are Manhattan people.”
“Rosa, geographically Inwood might be in Manhattan, but it is more like the Bronx. We are Inwood people, not Manhattan people.”
Rosa laughed at that. He ordered a red wine for her and water for him. Danny learned years ago that alcohol and staying in shape did not mix. As they finished their drinks a waiter took them to a back booth for privacy. Danny had called in a favor with Benny and they were treating him like the Champ he always wanted to be. He hoped Rosa was impressed.
They each ordered a steak and it came fast, hot, and rare. They were both hungry and ate their food with passion.
“Man, that was some good steak.”
“I’ll say. We ate like we’ve never been out before,” Rosa laughed.
Over coffee Danny started to talk about his past. He felt like he had to. Like she had to hear what made him the way he was. And if she didn’t run away screaming … then maybe . ..
When he got to the part of his family’s murder, Rosa held his hand.
“I know, Danny. I am sorry.”
“You know about what happened?”
“Well, yes, it was horrible. The whole neighborhood felt for you.”
A tear fell down Danny’s face. He never talked about that night. He only dreamt of it. As he talked of the hurt, he felt something leave his body. Something bad and bitter. He just rambled about his broken heart and his eyes never left Rosa’s face. She sat in silence, just watching him with soft, brown eyes. Eyes like a healing light, he thought. She has a face like a saint on a church mural.
Danny ordered Rosa another glass of wine while he had a coffee, black.
“I just want to thank you for listening, Rosa. It was like taking bad air out of me. God, it felt good telling you all that.”
“I’ll listen anytime, Danny.”
He asked about her life and Rosa told him the sadness of a divorce and the ruined dreams of her youth. She was going to be a lawyer but a child and an angry husband made her put that on the back burner. Where it stayed simmering into a bitter stew.
They left Benny’s, and on the corner Danny stopped and held Rosa’s face in his hands. He lightly kissed her lips and she caressed his neck.
They walked up Seaman Avenue and Rosa pointed to a “Missing” poster on the light pole. “That’s the jogger in Inwood Park that went missing.”
“Yeah. That is weird. You know, I run every day through that park and never saw her. I see that psycho Yuri but not Sara Miller.”
As they walked, Danny told Rosa how the Mad Russian looked right through him earlier that day in the park.
“He creeps me out, that Yuri,” said Rosa. “About two months ago I saw him running down 207th Street after some young college girl, cursing at her. The girl got away but Yuri had this sick look in his eyes like if he had caught her he would have done something bad.”
“Really? You think …”
Rosa exhaled. “I don’t know, but I got a feeling about him. Show me where you saw him.”
“Rosa. It’s dark out. That park is dangerous at night.”
“Oh, come on. I go out with a boxer and he’s afraid of the dark. Here …” She reached into her purse and pulled out a small flashlight. “Come on, it will be romantic.”
They walked up the street and followed Danny’s running route. As they entered the park, Danny’s body tightened. He looked everywhere and anywhere.
The woods were empty and dark and Danny needed the flashlight to find the trail he took. He held Rosa