Melancholy Baby

Spike walked around the car and took a left handful of Shades’s slick hair. Spike never seemed to be moving fast, exactly, but things happened very quickly. He slammed Shades’s head against the roof of the car. Shades grunted and sagged. Spike held him up with his left hand and patted him down. I kept the gun on Tattoos. Spike took a little .22 semiautomatic out of Shades’s side pocket.

“Cute,” Spike said.

He put the gun in his hip pocket and let go. Shades sagged but didn’t go down, steadying himself on the car. His forehead was already starting to swell. Spike looked at Tattoos.

“On the car?” Spike said.

“You’re pretty tough, got somebody holding a fucking gun on me.”

“And a twat, at that,” Spike said.

“Hey,” I said.

Spike jerked his head toward the car. Tattoos put his hands on the roof and Spike patted him down.

“No gun,” Spike said, and stepped back.

Tattoos wasn’t very smart. He’d seen Spike handle Mr. Shades. He must have noticed that Spike was much bigger than he was. Maybe he thought it was fat. Or maybe he had some outdated theories about sissy-boys. Whatever prompted him, he put his face into Spike’s and spoke.

“She didn’t have a piece on me...” Tattoos said.

“Sunny,” Spike said to me. “Put the gun away.”

I put it in my bag, though I cheated a little. I left the bag open and I rested my hand on the edge of it about an inch from the gun’s butt.

“You really a fag?” Tattoos said.

“Yep.”

“I never met a fag could fight.”

“What do the tattoos read,” Spike said. “Jail punk?”

Tattoos tried to knee Spike in the crotch. Spike turned his hip and the knee caught him harmlessly on it. Tattoos followed with a quick left hook that Spike brushed away with his forearm. He took a handful of Tattoos’s shirt in his left hand. Put his right into Tattoos’s crotch and swung him up in the air and brought him down hard, on his back, on the trunk of the car. He stepped away and Tattoos slid groggily off the trunk and onto the ground. He stayed there for a moment, then got to his feet unsteadily.

“Jesus Christ,” he said.

“So who hired you to scare off Sarah Markham,” I said.

Timing is everything.

27

The two men leaned somewhat wearily against the car. Spike stood in front of them and a little to the side, with his hands in his hip pockets. I had zipped up my purse, with my gun in it. Neither of them was dangerous anymore. Shades’s name was Lewis Karp. The other one was Sal Brunelli.

“Guy came to see me,” Lewis said.

“What was his name?”

“Didn’t say.”

I said, “Tell me about him.”

“Said he was a lawyer from New York.”

“New York City?”

“Yeah, I guess. Said he got my name from a guy in New York. Said he heard from this guy that I could organize something.”

“You know the guy he got your name from?”

“Didn’t say. I figure it’s probably a guy I did business with down there. Guy named Rosen. Ike Rosen.”

I had my notebook out and was writing down names.

“You talk to Ike,” Lewis said, “don’t say I told you.”

“Of course,” I said. “What kind of business are you in?”

“Lawyer.”

Spike snorted.

“I got a law degree,” Lewis said. “I do criminal law.”

“I’ll bet you do,” Spike said.

“Is Ike a lawyer, too?” I said.

“Sure.”

“Address?”

“I don’t know. All I got is a phone number.”

“I want it,” I said.

“You aren’t going to tell Ike you got it from me?”

“No,” I said.

“It’s in my Palm Pilot,” he said.

“Where is it?” Spike said.

“My briefcase. In the car.”

“Stay put,” Spike said.

He went to the car and came back with the Palm Pilot. Lewis got the phone number, and I wrote it down. Standing near Lewis, Spike was rocking slightly back and forth, hands still in his hip pockets. No cars had passed us since we’d been there. The sun had moved a little west. Birds still chirped. Squirrels still darted haltingly about.

“Don’t make stuff up,” Spike said to Lewis.

I said, “He wouldn’t lie to us, Spike.”

“I’m not lying.”

Spike smiled at him and didn’t say anything.

“What did the gentleman want?” I said.

“He said could I put together a little something to scare off someone who was annoying his client.”

“Was he a lawyer?”

“I thought he was.”

“Takes one to know one,” Spike said pleasantly to Sal.

Sal didn’t look at him. Lewis looked at me.

“So let’s not make this twenty questions,” I said. “Tell me all about it and maybe you can get out of here without Spike stepping on your face.”

“Told me the girl’s name. Said he wanted her scared off. Wanted the investigation stopped.”

“He say what investigation?”

“No. He gave me the girl’s dorm address and told me to tell her that and rough her up.”

“Did you get paid?”

“Of course,” Lewis said.

“How?”

“Guy gave me five grand. Cash. I give half to Sal and we go do it.”

“So how’d you get to me?” I said.

“Got another visit. Same guy. Said you needed to get the same message. Gimme your license plate numbers, told me to find you.”

“What was I worth?”

“Same thing. Five.”

“You should have charged more,” I said. “How do I reach you?”

“I got an office in the South End,” he said. “Warren Street. I work out of my home.”