Timothy Hallinan - Everything but the Squeal

“And this is what Aimee did?” I asked.

“Until she got her cop,” he said.

I felt something that was doing a good imitation of fear roll over me. “Her cop?”

“Not a real cop, dummy. A rent-a-cop. Worked at the mall, at Robinson's. Little skinny guy with about as much life in him as a ham sandwich, but he was real horny. Guy would have fucked the crack of dawn if he could've reached it in time. Little guys are like that, you know?”

“Did he have a name?” I asked.

Donnie squinted. “Warner. Looked like a rope with clothes on. Like I said, though, horny.”

“So Aimee met him,” I prompted.

“Yeah, he wanted to throw us out. He found her and me under the bench outside Robinson's, I mean we figured we had it made for the night. Movies were out and everything. Usually, if you can stay put until the movies are out, no problem. We'd even started to cuddle. Her and me loved to cuddle.” He put up a hand. “Hey, you know,” he said, “I'm no fag. I go with guys because it's usually guys who want me, but I loved Aimee. She was even more than family. I mean, even when she wouldn't trick, I helped her out.”

“I'm sure you did,” I said as gently as possible.

“Well, let's just keep things straight,” he said with a little of his old bravado. “I ain't no faggot.”

“Anyway,” I said, “Warner didn't want you. He wanted her.”

“Warner loves little girls. He just couldn't believe that Aimee was willing to do him. He looked so surprised while it was going on. I kept expecting him to pinch himself.”

“You know Warner's last name?”

“That is his last name. He's the kind of guy always gets called by their last name. Probably his mother called him Warner. His first name,” Donnie said, anticipating my question, “is Wayne. Wayne Warner. Is that lame or what?”

“Is he still working at Robinson's?”

”Naw.” Donnie loosed a short, ugly laugh. “He got canned.”

“Why?”

“Because of Aimee.”

“What happened?”

“I'm getting to it. So that night, he wants to throw us out, but Aimee does him instead. She didn't want to, but she did. Right in the middle of Robinson's, in the Spanish Mediterranean living room. Big asshole couch with wooden feet. Real nice room. Better than the Sleep-Eze motel. That's where we stayed when we had the bread. They don't hassle you, or at least not much. Lot of coke dealers too. You know, they move in for a couple of nights, set up shop, and then move to another motel. Not the best neighbors, though.”

“Why not?” That was Jessica.

“They got guns, and once in a while they like to shoot them off. They got to shoot something off. Most of the time, they can't get it up.”

Jessica sniffed in an offended fashion, defending Blister.

“All that blow,” he continued, heedless. ‘Takes the life out of the old snake.”

“Warner,” I said.

“Sure. So he keeps her. Well, this is heaven for Aimee, you know? I mean, he's not Mr. Universe, but he's only one guy, and Aimee just doesn't like to do a lot of guys. And by then anyway she's not feeling so good. She's got stomachaches and her hair is falling out a little bit. Maybe she's got the clap too, which would be pretty funny for old Warner, who's got a wife and eight or ten kids somewhere.”

“She was sick?” I said.

“Sure. You can only live on catsup for so long, no matter what McDonald's says. She's got, like, you know, scurvy or something. All she wants is a bed and some oranges.”

“What happened?” I said. “Did you split up?”

“What else could I do?” Donnie sat upright, spooked by something I hadn't heard, ready to run, and I started toward him. Then the garage door suddenly squealed open behind me, and I turned to see the little girl standing there, staring at me with frightened eyes. Before I could move, she backed away into the darkness.

“It's okay,” Donnie called. “It's okay. They just want to know about Aimee. Look,” he said, waving the hundred in the air. “They're even paying.”

There was a long moment, and then she stepped back into the light. Her long matted hair hung in ropes over her oversize sweater. “Are you sure?” she said in a tiny voice.

Jessica got up. “Come in,” she said. “I think I'm sitting on your bed, but there's room for both of us.”

The two girls looked at each other and then Donnie's girl came slowly into the garage and shut the door behind her. Keeping her eyes fixed on me, she went to Donnie, fishing in the pockets of her sweater. “Look,” she said, “fifty. We can go to the Sleep-Eze.”

“We can go to the fucking Executive Suite,” Donnie said. “You can take a two-hour bath and wash your hair. Hell, we can have room service. These guys are going to pay me two hundred.”

“I don't have any shampoo.” She lifted a tress of hair and sniffed at it.

“They got shampoo at the Executive Suite, stupid.”

“Did you know Aimee?” I asked.

She turned the scared, luminous eyes to me. “No,” she said, “but Donnie always talks about her.”

“Apple knows all about Aimee,” Donnie said proudly. “I told you I loved her.”

“Apple?” Jessica said.

“It's Nora, really,” Apple said. “But Donnie says I should never use my real name.”

“Which you just did,” Donnie said with some exasperation.

“But they're your friends,” Apple said, bewildered. “Aren't they?”

“Yes,” Jessica said, sitting down and plumping the sleeping bag with one hand. “Sit down.”

“I didn't do anything wrong?” Apple asked Donnie.

“Forget it,” Donnie said magnanimously. “Executive Suite, here we come.”

Apple sat next to Jessica, giving her a microscopic smile. “The man was very nice,” she said to Donnie.

“Listen,” I said. “I know you two are anxious to get to the motel, so let's finish up. Tell me what happened with Warner.”

“He got fired,” Donnie said. “For about a week they slept every night in Robinson's. They chose a different room every night. They were all over the furniture department. Finally they had a party. He bought some red wine, and Aimee got drunk and spilled it all over this Santa Fe couch. It was white, naturally. It couldn't have been red, could it? That would have been too much to hope for. So he went to find something to clean it with, only it didn't work. He got real scared and threw her out. Next day he got fired. Aimee showed up at about four the next afternoon and slept here, and told me the whole thing. The day after that she packed up her stuff and left. And that was the last time I saw her.”

I sat silent for a moment, trying to figure out the calendar.

“Can we go now?” Apple asked. “I'm all itchy.” Jessica moved a fraction of an inch away from her.

“In a second,” I said. “I don't suppose,” I asked Donnie with no hope at all, “that you've got Warner's phone number?”

“Sure,” Donnie said instantly. “When you meet a jerk that big, you get everything you can.” He gazed at me, weighing his chances. “For another hundred,” he said, “I'll send him to you.”

The Sleep-Eze was a two-story stucco excrescence, air conditioners protruding from the windows of the rooms like technological tumors. Most of them were off, in deference to the wintry Easter climate, but a few pumped valiantly away. The motel was arranged in a U around the parking lot, and as we pulled Alice into a spot I looked up. Three of the twelve doors were open. In each of them, a very large man sat. Two of them were black and one was white. Dealers, waiting for business.

Jessica and I got out of the car and headed for the front office. You couldn't get into the front office. From behind a window made of about three inches of bulletproof Lucite, the old dame behind the counter accepted my credit card, took one look at Jessica, and demanded her I.D. I produced a twenty and handed it to her.