Peter Spiegelman - Death's little helpers

“What I’m saying- right now- is that you’ve withheld material information. Do I wonder why, and what else you might be holding back? Sure I do. And am I annoyed? More than a little. This stuff is hard enough without your games. But as far as conspiracy theories go, I haven’t gotten started yet. And rest assured, mine are nothing compared to what the cops will throw at you if you screw around with them this way. You can drop me a postcard and tell me all about it.”

Nina reached for the tumbler of wine and took a long swallow. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“That means I’m out of here, Nina- right now- unless you stop bullshitting me.”

We stared at each other, and neither one of us blinked. Finally, she shook her head.

“What do you want from me? I’ve got no big secret. I told you all I know about where Greg is. The other stuff… I didn’t think it was worth mentioning. Greg’s been pissing and moaning about custody on and off for years. The only thing that changed recently was his filing suit. But it’s not like that’s going anywhere. That’s just Greg, grandstanding. We were talking about it. We were going to agree to something… just like all the other times.”

“What other times?”

“The other times Greg’s had a hair up his ass about custody. The other times he’s gotten it in his head that he doesn’t like how the kid’s growing up or that he wants to play full-time dad. He gets himself twisted up, we yell at each other for a while, and we agree to something.” Nina pulled hard on her B amp;H. The ash glowed orange, and the cigarette shrank before my eyes.

“What didn’t he like about the way Billy was growing up?” I asked, after a while.

Nina made a wry face. “Figure it out, March. His only son and heir growing up with two dykes? And he’s always had it in for Nes. He’s convinced himself she was the reason our marriage ended, which is crap. Things had gone to hell for us long before I met Nes, and she and I were nothing more than friends when I split with Greg. But he never listens.” Nina took another drink, and I thought some more.

“And when it’s come up in the past, you’ve agreed- what?” Nina got up and walked to the little stereo in the corner. She squatted down and rifled through a stack of CDs on the floor and swapped The Ramones for something else. She turned up the volume: Bryan Ferry. She stood and turned back to me.

“We agreed that Greg could see more of him- at least while his interest lasted.”

“It didn’t, usually?”

“It didn’t ever. But what the hell. We agreed.”

“And what did you get out of it?” I asked. Nina Sachs frowned at me.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just gave him more time with Billy out of the goodness of your heart?”

Sachs’s face got white and hard, and her mouth became a tight line. “You have no idea what it’s like raising a kid in this city, trying to make a living as a painter. Money gets tight, and if Greg bumps up the child support payments it helps. Am I supposed to be ashamed of that? Does that mean I’m holding him up? Or that I’m selling my kid, for chrissakes?” She took a hit off her cigarette and breathed out a boiling column of smoke. “You have a lot of fucking nerve, for the hired help.”

I nodded absently. “If this time was no different, what made Danes reopen the custody suit?”

“He was in a bad mood about everything, he was mad at the whole fucking world, and he was complaining about money.”

“So he’d rather spend it on a lawsuit?”

Sachs shrugged. “Go figure,” she said. She ran her fingers along the base of her neck. “Maybe he thinks he can’t do anything about his career being in the tank, but he can do something about Billy. Maybe he thinks this is a battle he can win.” She sighed heavily and shook her head. “How do I know what goes on in his mind?”

She sat at the drafting table, stubbed out her cigarette, and rubbed her eyes with the tips of her fingers. Then she picked up a pencil and started sketching. From the little stereo, Bryan Ferry crooned. I could feel at the time There was no way of knowing…p›

I watched her and listened to the music and we sat that way for what seemed a long time.

“Did you hire me to find Danes, or to find dirt on him for this custody thing?” I asked finally.

Nina let out an exasperated breath. “I told you, I don’t give a shit about the custody case. There isn’t going to be a goddamn custody case.” She took a long drag on her cigarette and shook her head. “Look, the sad fact is Greg’s still my main source of income. If something has… if that’s going to change, I need to know. I hired you to find him; that’s it. Now, are you coming or going on this?”

“Will you call the cops?”

“Jesus, you don’t let up.” Nina sighed. “Is that a requirement for you to keep working?”

“The requirement is that you don’t lie to me, Nina, and that you don’t hold out. Calling the cops is just good advice.”

She looked down at her sketch and nodded. “I’m not lying to you, and I’ll think about the cops,” she said softly. She picked up a stick of charcoal and moved her arm in broad strokes.

I looked at the top of her auburn head. “Okay,” I said. I left her apartment and made for the street.

I went past the gallery, rounded the corner, and collided with Billy Danes. He was leaning against the building, smoking a cigarette. He staggered backward and embers went flying.

“Goddammit,” he whined, and turned his mother’s irritated look on his broken cigarette and then on me. I brushed ash off my sleeve and Billy recognized me. “Oh, shit,” he said.

“Hey, no need to apologize, Bill,” I said.

He snorted. “Apologize? You’re the one that crashed into me, in case you didn’t notice.”

I laughed. “And saved you from an early death by doing it.”

Billy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right,” he said. He was wearing baggy fatigue pants and a baseball jersey with a mournful-looking manga character on it. He fished in his pants pockets for another smoke, found one, and looked up at me defiantly. “Got the lecture ready?” He looked maybe ten.

I shrugged. “Not me.” He snorted again, and lit the cigarette with a yellow plastic lighter. I gestured at his T-shirt. “Cowboy Bebop?” I asked.

He nodded, grudgingly. “So, what- you’re some kind of comic freak? Kind of old, aren’t you? What do you do, hang in the stores and check out the little boys?”

“Not exactly. How about you, do you collect?” Billy shrugged. “Anything in particular?” I asked.

He puffed on the cigarette, suppressed a cough, and shrugged again. “Horror, mostly- old school stuff. House of Mystery, House of Secrets, Dark Mansion- that kind of thing.”

I nodded. “How about The Unexpected or Vault of Evil?” I asked. Billy’s face lit for a second and then regained its indifferent faA§ade.

“Yeah, like that,” he said, and coughed again.

He was staring out across the water and I stared with him.

“She take a chunk out of your ass too?” he asked after a while. His voice was softer and there was weary knowledge in with the levity.

“Just a small one- not so I can’t walk or anything,” I said.

Billy laughed. “Probably ’cause she’d already eaten,” he said.

I chuckled, and we both were quiet again.

“She’s not always this way,” he said.

“Uh-huh.”

“She’s got shit on her mind. A show coming up and… shit with my dad.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You looking for him?”

“I am.”

“You find him yet?”

“Not yet.” There were footsteps on the pavement. Ines Icasa came around the corner and stopped. She looked at Billy and he sent the cigarette arcing into the darkness with a practiced flick. He backed up a little.