Robert Tanenbaum - Reversible Error

"Don't, Raney. It'll work out OK-trust me. Let me make that call now. You got a quarter?"

The guy was loaded and shipped, leaving a small round bloodstain on the sidewalk. The cops found the vial the guy had dumped, half-full of white powder. Raney and Marlene walked back to Tangerines in silence.

The noise of an excited crowd greeted them when they were half a block away from the club. Marlene buttonholed a chubby young woman in a fringed white dress.

"What's going on?"

"It's crazy!" the woman replied. "Some chick with a big knife got this guy cornered in the hallway by the John. She's yelling he raped her and she's gonna cut his business off. It's wild! I'm going home to watch it on TV."

Marlene felt a thrill of despair. "What kind of woman?" she croaked weakly. "A blond in a dark tent dress?"

"Yeah, frosted blond. But it was a wig. She pulled it off and threw it at the guy. It was just like the movies!"

The woman hurried off down the street. Marlene started to run toward Tangerines, but Raney grabbed her arm.

"Marlene, what the fuck is happening?" he cried.

"It's JoAnne. My witness." She broke away from him and trotted heavily down the street to the club, her belly roiling, her heart popping against her breastbone. Fifty or so people were milling around outside and more were flowing out of the door. Marlene pushed vainly against the tide. Raney caught up with her, put his arm around her, hoisted her up on his hip, and, waving his shield and shouting, "Police! Coming through!" forced their way into the bar.

Someone had turned the cleaning lights on, giving the interior of Tangerines the charm of a raddled whore at noon: stained carpet, rusty tin ceiling, overturned chairs and tables, pools of spilled drinks and melting ice. Marlene and Raney moved along the length of the deserted bar, broken glass and ice cubes crunching under their feet.

In the corridor leading to the rest rooms stood three men, two large in white shirts and bow ties, one small in a sports jacket. Raney approached the jacket, flashed his shield, and said, "Police. What's going on?"

The jacket backed out of the way and pointed down the corridor. "Bitch is crazy, man. She took this guy hostage. We haven't been able to get near her-she's got a fuckin' sword in there."

Raney and Marlene both looked where he was pointing. JoAnne Caputo was crouched in the corridor. She was muttering and snarling at a man cringing a few feet from her, backed into the corridor's dead end. In her right hand she held a K-bar knife, Marine issue, which she waved and poked at the man. Marlene noted with horror that the man bore a striking resemblance to the guy they had just arrested. He was bleeding from several cuts on the arm and his face was drawn and frightened.

"Yeah, I see," said Raney. "You the manager?" he asked the sports jacket.

"Yeah. You gonna shoot her?"

"No, I don't think so. You called the police? Good. Look, take your people and clear the area. If any more cops show, send them back here."

The manager seemed relieved and did as he was told. When they were alone, Marlene said, "Raney, let me talk to her."

"Uh-uh. This is police business. You oughta wait outside."

"Bullshit!" cried Marlene, and moved toward the corridor. Raney stuck his arm out to block her, but at that moment heavy steps sounded in the bar and a TV crew-camera with blazing lights, a soundman, and an intrepid local news reporter-came charging in.

"Get out of here! Are you crazy?" shouted Raney at the crew.

Marlene used this distraction to break away from the detective. JoAnne too had turned at the sounds. The TV light dazzled her. She held up her free hand to shield her eyes. She saw someone coming toward her out of the halo of unbearable light. She struck out wildly with the knife, felt it catch in something, heard the ripping of fabric. She saw a face inches from her own, a familiar face. She tried to shake the fog of a dozen drinks out of her mind. Arms wrapped around her, pulling her close to a body slick with sweat, a woman's body.

"JoAnne!" a voice cried. "It's Marlene! It's OK, you got him. It's over." JoAnne Caputo started to wail, horrible screeching cries, the violation of the body at last finding its own voice. Marlene held her, swaying, saying inane and calming things into her ear. The big knife clunked on the floor.

She saw the guy come out of his corner, saw him run past, heard curses and the crash of bodies. She looked over her shoulder and saw Raney wrestle him to the ground. Suddenly the place was full of cops. It was over, but only in real life. There was still the television.

Karp was sitting in the darkened living-room section of the loft, staring at the gray flicker of a late movie, when Marlene crawled in at two A.M. He looked up bleakly as she entered.

"Are you going to say, 'Where have you been, young lady?'" she asked.

"No," said Karp. "I'm not your father. And I know where you've been. It was on the late news."

"Ah, shit!" cried Marlene. She went to the cupboard and brought out a bottle of red wine and a glass, filled it, lit a cigarette, and threw herself down on a rocking chair, facing Karp. She was still wearing Raney's jacket, its lining hanging out where the blade had slashed it.

"So. How did I look?" she asked belligerently.

Karp shrugged. "Like everybody else on TV. Like an asshole."

"We got the guy," she said.

"That's nice, Marlene," said Karp flatly, still staring at the screen.

She finished her wine in two gulps and put the glass down on the old door set on concrete blocks that served the loft as a coffee table. She clutched the jacket more tightly around her. "That's it? No congratulations on a job well done from my leader?"

"No. Because it's not your job. It's not your job to go running around after suspects. It's not your job to tackle crazy women waving knives-"

"She was my witness and she's not crazy."

Karp brought his fist violently down on the coffee table, bouncing it askew and toppling the glass. The dregs of the wine spilled over the white surface like blood from a wound. "Shut up!" he shouted. "Don't argue with me! Don't make excuses! This isn't fucking court! I'm not your goddamn parole officer."

"I knew you'd do this," she snarled. "You can't stand it when I'm not a good little girl. Well, if you'd gotten off your ass and gone to bat for me with the cops, I wouldn't've had to chase the fucking bastard down myself."

Karp was up on his feet, facing her, screaming. "What the fuck are you talking about! I did go to the cops. And what the hell does that have to do with anything? Don't you get it? Even PW's go on light duty when they get pregnant! You could have lost the baby!"

Marlene shot up too, knocking the rocker backward. Their faces were inches apart. "Oh, that's what it is. The baby!"

"You don't think I should be concerned?" Karp cried. "This is the second time this year that you've got yourself involved in a situation that required you to run around the streets with your clothes off because you insist on being Nancy fucking Drew and the girl commandos. And you promised me, you swore to me that you would take it easy. And then you go on this… I don't know… crusade-it's insane when you're carrying a child."

"There it is! Not me, not what I want, just your precious bloodline. Well, fuck you, Jack, and fuck the baby too! You think I'm gonna sit on my butt and knit booties and smile like the Mona Lisa for the rest of my life? Think again! I'm gonna live my own life exactly as I please. And that includes doing whatever I have to do to get my job done, as I decide. Not you, and not some fetus. It'll have to take its chances, the same as everybody else in this goddamn city."

"What job? You don't have a job after next week," Karp shouted.