Trip Wire_ A Cook County Mystery - Charlotte Carter [15]
“Get your things, gal.”
“You go to hell, Woody. I’m not going anywhere until I see some kind of justice done for Wilt and Mia. Just leave me the fuck alone.”
The gallant Woody Lisle bent to help his lady to her feet. “Cass,” he said, “if you were a man, I’d try to kill you.”
Then he pulled Ivy, her mouth agape, out of the apartment. She slipped around the open door like an old silk scarf.
3
My face was hideous. I blew my nose, swiped at the residue from that hysterical bout of crying, and tore into the fried egg sandwich that Cliff had brought back for me.
“Don’t cry, Sandy. I’m staying if you are.”
“Thanks.”
“I just called home,” he said. “My mom’s acting just like your people.” He held a big Dixie cup full of chocolate milkshake for me to drink through the straw. “Taylor says the police wouldn’t let me go home now even if I wanted to.”
“Your mother’s in Connecticut, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought Connecticut was a place for people with a lot of money. But Wilt said you’re not rich. He said your mom was working class and she raised you by herself.”
“She did. Well, not exactly. My brother kind of raised me, too.”
“You liked him a lot, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I did.”
I realized too late how dumb it was of me to ask about Cliff’s brother, Cary, who had been killed in Vietnam last year. Still raw from the loss, Cliff would sometimes watch the evening news coverage of the war in fascinated disgust until he could take it no more. Then he would get up and leave. Mia said a couple of times she heard him crying in his room.
Desperate to change the subject now, I asked, “Did Barry leave?”
“No. Where’s he gonna go? Nobody wants him.”
“Did you see Jordan?”
“Not yet. I wish I could bring him over here, but I don’t think it’s such a good idea.”
“Yeah. Better not.”
“I’m gonna go to Crash and Bev’s, see if he’s okay. The police have been there asking him questions.”
“About us.”
“Yeah. And those two assholes are mad at him for bringing heat into their house. Like the cops don’t know they’re idiot junkies.”
Cliff continued to hold the milkshake for me, as if I were an invalid. I was sucking up the last drops when Taylor came in to tell me Nat Joffrey was on the line.
I figured Nat was worried about me. “I’m not here,” I said. Making truth out of the lie, I told Cliff, “I’m coming with you. Let’s go.” And I grabbed my bag and coat.
I hated Nat. I knew it wasn’t fair, but, just for five seconds, I let myself hate him.
I snatched the front door open, frantic to get away. I can’t imagine anything in the world that could have halted my forward motion other than what I spotted out of the corner of my eye. The silver peace sign that hung from the giant ring that held Wilton’s keys. There it was on one of the pegs of the coatrack. I snatched it off and kept right on going.
I took the stairs two and three at a time, leaving Cliff behind.
I knew how that goddamn conversation with Nat would have gone. I’d sooner be buried alive than endure his fatherly solicitude now. No matter what kind words he might have had for me, the real message behind them would have been “I told you so.” And if he’d dared suggest that Wilton somehow brought this terrible violence down on himself, I’d have gone over there and broken something over De Lawd’s woolly head.
4
“Jordan’s father. Why do they call him Crash?”
“I don’t know,” Cliff said. “I guess it’s something he thought was cool to call himself.”
“You know what?” I said. “I know they’re terrible parents and Jordan would rather be with you than live with them. But he must talk to them sometimes, right?”
“Talk about what?”
“About what he sees at the commune. He’s seen Barry with a lot of dope, right? Maybe he’s seen him with a wad of money, too. You think he could have told Crash and Bev stuff like that?