Deadly Justice

33

THE DRIVER OF THE VAN exited on the Eleventh Street side of the corner. His black boots tapped along the pavement, clickety-clack, clickety-clack. The wind tousled his meticulously styled hair. Annoyed, he pushed the errant strands back into place.

He opened the glass door to Denny’s and approached the counter. He waved at the waitress, smiling a handsome smile.

“Excuse me. Did you work here last night?”

“That I did.” She placed her order pad inside her apron and leaned against the counter. “Why? D’you fall in love and come back to marry me?”

“No,” the man said, grinning. “But I may yet. I’m looking for someone.”

“ ’Zat right?” She wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Why would you be doing that? You’re not a cop, are you?”

“No. Not by a long shot.” He took a Polaroid photo out of his pocket and passed it to the woman. “This is the girl I’m looking for. I believe she goes by the name Trixie.”

The woman glanced at the photo, men passed it back. “What you be wantin’ with Trixie?”

“I owe her some money. See, I’m a…well, a former customer, if you know what I mean. Kind of a regular, actually. I was short of cash last time, and I wanted to make up the difference.”

“Sonny let you leave without paying in full? That’s not the Sonny I know.”

“Exactly. That’s why it’s so important that I find her quickly. I don’t want her to get into any trouble.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure that’s all you want?”

The man hesitated before answering. “I guess I can’t fool you, can I? It’s not just the money. I thought I might arrange another…date.”

“You got the money this time?”

“Gobs. I was hoping I could arrange one of those pricey picnic jobs. Thought we might go to The Playground with a few of my friends.”

“The Playground. What on earth would you be doing out there?”

“Searching, for eternity,” the man said. “Scaling the final barrier. Achieving a sense of closure.”

“Sounds weird to me.”

“I’m sorry. I tend to wax metaphysical from time to time. Do you know where I might find Trixie?”

“Normally, I’d say right across the street, but she doesn’t seem to be there tonight. Come to think of it, she wasn’t there last night either.”

“Any idea where she went?”

“ ’Fraid not. She don’t check in and out with me.”

“Well, if you do see her, tell her a friend is looking for her. I’ll check back here tomorrow.”

“You do that, lover boy. I’m sure she hasn’t gone far.”

The waitress watched as the handsome man walked out of the diner, his heels clickety-clacking on the linoleum floor. He climbed into his van and drove away.

A few moments later, after she was sure he was gone, the waitress crouched down and whispered, “Did you hear all. that?”

Trixie crawled out from under the counter, brushing the dirt from her knees. “Yes. Every lying word.”

“Did you see what he looked like?”

“No. But I heard his voice.”

“You should have seen his eyes. Most of the time, he seemed perfectly normal—handsome, in fact. Friendly. But for just a second there, when he was talking all high-toned and fancy, he let his mask drop, and I looked into his eyes. There was something real disturbin’ about him, Trixie. Somethin’ scary.”

“You’re giving me the creeps, Marge.”

“Good. What you going to do, child?”

“I don’t know. I can’t stay around here, that’s obvious.”

“What’s Sonny say? He’s supposed to take care of you.”

“Sonny only takes care of himself. He thinks I should be back on the street.”

“That man would find you in a heartbeat.”

“I know. I need somewhere to go, someplace to hole up.”

“Got any family?”

“Not around here. And I’m not going back to my father’s house, no matter what.”

“Maybe you should take a vacation. Got any money?”

“Not enough.” She stretched out her legs, careful to make sure she was not visible through the front windows. “Marge, is there any chance you could put me up? It would only be for—”

“I’m sorry, Trixie. I’d do almost anything for you, you know I would. But I’ve got two children of my own at home. I can’t be luring some sicko to my place.”

“But he’s going to kill me!” Tears began to well up in her eyes. “Did you hear about what he did to that nice cop?”

Marge nodded grimly. “I heard. And that’s all the more reason I can’t be inviting that man to my house.” She paused. “Honey, maybe you should consider talking to the police.”

“Get serious.”

“I am.”

“Why? So I can get another bust on my record?”

“They might be able to help.”

“I’ve gone to the police before, and all I got for it was beat within an inch of my life. When did the police ever help any of us? Think about it, Marge. There’s four of us gone now. Four of us. In less than three weeks. And the police haven’t done a damn thing.”

Marge tossed down her dish towel. “Well, you’re going to have to do something, honey. And the sooner the better.”

Trixie remained on the floor, her arms cradling her knees, rocking back and forth. “I know, Marge. I know.”