Чарли Стелла - Johnny Porno

“You look terrible,” Nathan said.

“I haven’t slept a wink,” Nancy said.

He had come as promised, but earlier than she had thought. She had been asleep when the phone rang. The front desk said a Nathan Ackerman was in the lobby. She told them to send him up and wondered why he hadn’t said he was her husband.

She answered his knock wearing her panties and bra and was surprised when he didn’t kiss her hello.

Now he was keeping his distance, sitting in one of the chairs at the tiny table across the room while she sat on the edge of the bed.

“I appreciate your canceling Boston for me,” Nancy said. “I hope it isn’t a problem.”

“It’s not a problem and I canceled for myself to get my things from the house.”

“Do you hate me?”

“I guess I feel sorry for you,” Nathan said, “but you don’t make it easy.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“No, you’re not. You’re sorry this turned to shit, whatever crazy thing you did.”

“I did love you, Nathan. Really. I’m sure I still do.”

“Baloney, Nancy, let’s not kid each other. I feel foolish enough. I’ve felt foolish enough. Being here now isn’t easy.”

She apologized again, then said, “I need to contact Louis. For John. He says I should try.”

Nathan ignored her.

“I don’t know where he is or where he’s gone,” she continued. “He can only reach me at my, our home number. We need to go back to the house. I was afraid to stay last night.”

“You have a bruise and your face is swollen,” he said. “Did they do that?”

Her eyes welled with tears. “They hit me so hard.”

Nathan shook his head. “How can a man do that?”

“John had me sneak out the back,” Nancy said. “They might still be there.”

“We’ll call the police first to make sure they aren’t.”

“I’m not sure we should involve the police.”

“I won’t go there without calling them.”

“What can I tell them?”

“You don’t have to mention whatever you did, but there’s nothing wrong with saying what happened last night. Show them your face, tell the truth about that.”

“They’ll want to know why?”

“Lie.”

“What?”

“It’s what you do best. Make up a story. At least that way the police will stay there. Tell them you were robbed.”

“You think that’ll work?”

“Come on, Nancy, get dressed. I want to get this over with. I don’t want to waste more time than I have to.”

She got off the bed and went to him. “I want to thank you,” she said.

She put a hand on his shoulder. He removed it.

“I’m doing this for your son,” Nathan said. “And John. No other reasons.”

“You won’t even look at me.”

“Get dressed, Nancy. Then you can call the police.”

Forty-five minutes later Nathan pulled up in front of their house, where a police cruiser was waiting. He invited the policemen inside. They took Nancy’s abbreviated report: Two black men pushed the door in when she answered their knock. One of them slapped her and stood watch while the other went through the house. Some jewelry was missing and they took all her cash, about two hundred dollars, she’d told them.

The policemen told her detectives would probably pass by later in the morning. Once they left, Nathan told her she shouldn’t have said they were black men or lied about the cash.

“You’re the one told me to lie,” Nancy said.

Nathan stared at her a moment. “You’re right,” he said. “I should’ve known better. I’m going to make coffee.”

Nancy rolled her eyes when he turned his back to her. She went upstairs to shower. When she came back down the phone was ringing.

“Why didn’t you answer?” she asked before picking up the receiver. “Hello?”

“It’s me,” Louis said.

“God damn you,” Nancy said.

The connection was broken. Nancy screamed Louis’s name when she realized he had hung up. Then she kicked at one of the kitchen chairs and hurt her foot.

“He’ll call back,” Nathan said.

“What?”

“He’ll call back. Next time don’t curse him.”

“Don’t curse him? What are you taking his side too now?”

Nathan sipped his coffee, set the cup down and headed for the front door.

“Where are you going?” said Nancy, limping behind him.

Nathan didn’t answer. He opened the door and walked out. She stood in the doorway yelling his name until it was clear he was leaving. Then she started cursing and kept it up until she heard the phone ring again. She limped back to the kitchen and answered.

“Louis?”

“Who’s Louis?” a strange voice asked.

“Who’s this?”

“The guy grabbed your snatch last night.”

Nancy couldn’t speak.

“You tell the cops about the money you robbed?”

“Na-no,” she managed to say.

“Good. Now, who’s Louis?”

“A friend.”

“He the one has the money?”

“No. He’s a friend from the school.”

“A boyfriend?”

“No, just a guy. Our kids go to school together.”

“Where’s your kid?”

Nancy didn’t answer.

“We’ll talk again,” the caller said.

She was trembling when he hung up.

Stebenow had tried and failed to convince the special agent in charge of the Eddie Vento investigation that their key informant’s life was in danger. Clive Flynn, a fifteen-year veteran of the bureau, the last two as a special agent in charge, had recently been admitted to the bar and was hoping to become a federal prosecutor. Taking down Eddie Vento would go a long way toward advancing his political future.

When Stebenow told Flynn about Bridget Malone’s bruised face, the SAC said, “She’s been sucking Vento’s dick the last six months. You really think she can’t handle a few slaps?”

The comment had infuriated Stebenow. “I think the cop on his payroll is investigating her,” he’d said. “I think he’s already figured her out.”

“Was that why you had our people hold some Westie inna safe house? They aren’t for your personal hunches, safe houses. There’s something going on I should know, you best tell me now.”

“That was a guy attacked me is all.”

“Except you were guarding the Princess Malone at the time. Or watching her anyway, I’ll bet, and without keeping us informed. Then you order the punk held like you’re J. Edgar himself. The fuck you think we’re slow?”

“Alright,” Stebenow said. “It looked like he was going for her. Yeah, I was there.”

“And you think the guy with Vento sent him.”

“I know Kelly sent him.”

“You can prove it?”

“No.”

“Because the Westie isn’t saying fuck all. Quinn his name is, right?”

Stebenow hadn’t answered.

“It’s fine by me,” Flynn had said. “Kelly is NYPD’s problem. At least until we take Vento down.”

“That cop can give us Vento just as easy.”

“Except that would make us look like we’ve been wasting our time with Malone, wouldn’t it?”

“Us or you?”

It was the wrong thing to say and Stebenow knew it.

Flynn had smirked. “I’ll make believe I didn’t hear that,” he said. “You concentrate on keeping our girl active. The sooner she brings us something we can convict Vento with, the sooner she’s living under a new identity. We bring him in because he slapped her we’ll all look stupid and the only thing she’ll get is an order of protection.”

That had been late last night. This morning, after another sleepless night, Stebenow had called his wife and was surprised when a man answered her phone. Their separation was less than six weeks old. Although they had stopped seeing each other more than three weeks ago, Stebenow had been caught off guard by the new man in his wife’s life.