distract him.
"C'mon, Sunny, lighten up," he said.
He started to maneuver me toward the couch. I took in
a deep breath and let it out. I stomped one of my two-inch heels hard on
his toes, and twisted as if I were grinding out a cigarette. He screamed
and let go of me. I opened the door and looked back at him. He was hopping
on one foot and saying "Bitch" and trying not to tip over, drunk as he
was.
"Good night," I said. "And thanks for a lovely evening."
As I drove back to South Boston, I thought there might
be worse things than sitting home wishing Richie and I could make it work.
CHAPTER 9
I sat across from Tony Marcus in the back room of a restaurant
that Tony owned called Buddy's Fox. I was the only woman in the room. I
was the only white person in the room. Tony had about him the kind of dissipated
handsome look that Gig Young used to have in old movies, if Gig Young had
been black. He also had the biggest bodyguard I had ever personally seen.
It reminded me a little of the short men I'd known who owned huge attack
dogs. Leaning on the side wall of Tony's office, like the threat of rain,
junior might or might not have been bigger than Delaware. He was certainly
bigger than Rhode island.
"You got some good advance notices," Tony Marcus said.
"Richie Burke and my man Spike."
"Spike?"
"Yeah. He called me this morning."
"Spike gets around," I said.
"He do," Marcus said.
"You still married to Richie?"
"Nope."
Marcus smiled and looked at junior.
"Amicable divorce," he said to junior.
Junior didn't look as if he knew what amicable meant.
He also didn't look like he cared. Tony leaned back in his chair and checked
to see that the proper amount of French cuff showed under the sleeves of
his blue suit.
"So you're looking for a whore, Miss Sunny?"
"Fifteen-year-old runaway," I said.
Tony smiled. "That may be what she used to be, she on
the street now, she's a whore."
"Either way," I said. "I'd like to find her."
"Why?"
"I've been hired to."
"So you really a detective," Tony said.
"Un huh."
"You don't look much like a detective," he said.
"You don't look much like a pimp," I said. Tony laughed.
"Feisty," Tony said to junior. Junior nodded.
"Calling me a pimp," Tony said, "like calling Henry Ford
an auto worker."
"Think you can help me find this kid?" I said.
"Sure," Tony said, "she hooking, I can find her."
"And if she isn't you'll know?"
"'Less she hooking in East Long-fucking-meadow or someplace."
"Probably not," I said.
"She hooking east of Springfield, I can find her. Worcester,
Lynn, Lawrence, Lowell, New Bedford, Fall River, she be one of mine.
"Not Springfield?" I said just to be saying something.
Guys like Tony Marcus like to talk. Especially to women.
"Springfield belongs to Hartford," Tony said. "The Spices
run it."
"So how shall we do this?"
"You think I'm going to do something?"
"I assume you didn't get me in here to tell me no personally,"
I said.
Tony grinned.
"Knew your father, you know that?"
"No."
"Never busted me," Tony said. "Sonova bitch tried hard
enough."
"I didn't know he worked vice," I said.
"When he after me he working homicide," Tony said.
That was to scare me in case junior hadn't already scared
me. I remained calm.
"So how we going to find Millicent Patton?"
"You got a picture?" Tony said.
I'd had copies made of the one her father had given me.
I produced one. Tony looked at it, and nodded slowly. "She'll make some
money," he said.
"Will she keep any?"
"'Course not," Tony said without looking up from the picture.
I waited. After a time Tony handed the picture to junior.
"Have some copies made," he said. "Circulate them. Let
me know if we got her and who her pimp is."
Junior took the picture and continued to stand against
the wall. Tony winked at me.
"Junior," he said. "I think I be safe with Sunny Randall
here, while you go out and get that picture started."
"She ain't been searched," Junior said.
"I going to risk it," Tony said. "Go