John Lutz - Night kills

The food, as usual at Randisi's, was wonderful. As was the wine. David knew how to choose.

Outside the restaurant, they were both a bit tipsy. Shellie leaned against David for support.

He was about to hail a cab when a gleaming dark car pulled to the curb near them. It was a big car, a Chrysler. They were on a one-way street, and the driver's side was only a few feet away from the sidewalk. The window glided down.

Shellie assumed the driver would be with a service and he'd try to talk them into taking the car instead of climbing into a cab. She was surprised to see an attractive, hard-faced woman about forty with a gray buzz cut and no makeup. She wore a black pullover shirt with the collar turned up. Her arms were slim but muscular, and Shellie saw that the hand resting on the steering wheel was gloved. Driving gloves, she assumed. Maybe this was a professional driver and the big Chrysler was a car for hire.

"Need a ride, bro?" the woman asked, looking at David.

"I'll be damned," David said. "What are you doing here, Gloria?"

"I was on my way home and happened to see you. New York's not so big that coincidences don't sometimes occur."

"Obviously not," David said.

"Anyway, this is my neighborhood. Or at least I regularly drive through it."

Now the woman looked at Shellie. She had dark eyes, deeply set and intense. "You must be Shellie."

David squeezed Shellie's arm. "This is my sister, Gloria, Shellie. The only person in New York I've told about us."

"David and I always share the good things," Gloria said. Her dark eyes took on a glitter in the reflected red light of the restaurant's illuminated sign. "That's the way it's been since we were children. I know my brother well, and I haven't seen him fall so hard for a woman in years. It's a real pleasure to meet you."

"Same here," Shellie said. She moved forward, one foot off the curb, and shook the leather-gloved hand proffered through the open window. Gloria smiled at her, an unexpectedly beautiful smile that caused Shellie to smile back.

"Listen," Gloria said, her dark glance darting from one to the other, "why don't you two come up to my place and have a drink? Afterward, I'll drive you home. I really do want to get to know you, Shellie. Everything I hear is so positive. Like, finally, you're the one."

Shellie felt a warm rush. That was always what she'd wanted to be to some man, what she was now-special, the one. She could hear David saying it to his sister. "She's the one, Gloria."

"Maybe some other time," is what he was saying to Gloria now.

Shellie tugged at his arm. "It's okay, David. We have time."

He was shaking his head. "I don't think it's a good idea."

"What are you, ashamed of me?" Gloria asked. She seemed amused by the idea.

"You know better than that, Gloria."

"Then don't be so damned secretive, David. The way you've been bragging about this woman to me, I should think you'd want us to get to know one another." Her dark eyes fixed on Shellie. "I mean it, Shellie. This brother of mine is gaga for you. We really should talk about him for a change."

"She has a point, David."

He moved closer and looked down at Shellie. There was a strained expression in his face she hadn't seen before. The wine, maybe. They'd certainly had enough of it. "You're sure?"

"It sounds wonderful. Your sister!" Family. "We really should get acquainted."

After a slight hesitation, he smiled. "Okay. As long as you two don't gang up on me."

He opened the big sedan's rear door and let Shellie enter first. Then he took a seat beside her. There was over a foot of space between them on the seat. It was as if David didn't want to demonstrate his affection for her in front of his sister by sitting too close.

As Gloria pushed the selector to "drive" and the car pulled away from the curb, Shellie noticed a pungent, brackish smell.

"Do you smoke?" she asked Gloria, without thinking. "Not that I mean to pry."

"It's that obvious?"

"I'm afraid so. Unless somebody else who smokes has been in the car recently."

Shellie saw Gloria's right cheek change contour in the shadows, maybe a smile.

"I thought you might be asking for a cigarette," Gloria said.

"No, I don't smoke. Not that it's any of my business whether or not you do. I wasn't meaning to be judgmental."

Gloria laughed, concentrating on her driving and looking straight ahead. She had the long neck and erect posture of a ballet dancer, as if an invisible string were attached to the top of her head and constantly tugging her upright in case she even thought about slumping. "That's okay. You caught me. Tobacco's my only vice. I've been trying to quit. David will tell you, I've tried off and on for years."

"Those damned things are going to kill you, Gloria," David said.

Gloria managed to shrug her narrow, hard shoulders as she spun the steering wheel to make a sharp right turn.

"That's okay," she said. "If they don't, something else surely will."

Life could be so good it almost hurt. It prompted Shellie to nestle close to David as Gloria jockeyed the big Chrysler north on Broadway. The car drove smoothly and seemed to glide over the potholes that dotted the street. The evening had cooled, but the warmth of the car's interior, and of the wine she'd earlier consumed, made Shellie deliciously drowsy.

The sound of a blaring horn jolted her alert. She opened her eyes and realized Gloria had been the one leaning on the horn.

A cab that had pulled past the Chrysler was swerving in front of it, seemingly inches off its front bumper.

"Jerkoff!" Gloria said softly but vehemently.

"New York cabbies, that's all," David said lazily. "You oughta be used to them."

"Being used to them doesn't mean I don't hope they should all come down with the plague." She raised her voice. "Lord, deliver to them locusts and fire and sickness, and let them drive fareless through eternity."

David chuckled and held Shellie closer in the softly upholstered backseat. "Did I mention to you Sis has a bit of a temper?"

"I hope it isn't hereditary," Shellie said. She saw with relief that the cab had pulled a safe distance ahead.

"David fights a constant battle with his genes," Gloria said, from the front seat. "Not to mention the devil. Or maybe it's all the same thing."

The cab's brake lights flared and it slowed abruptly, causing Gloria to stand on the brakes and the big Chrysler to cant forward. "Now that this asshole's ahead of me, he doesn't wanna go fast," Gloria said. "The guy's a great argument for the legalization of hand grenades."

"Ease up," David said. "You don't want to attract attention now."

Shellie thought that was an odd thing for him to say, but she was too comfortable and drowsy to give it much thought. She decided her life was fully in Gloria's hands and there wasn't much she could do about it, so she closed her eyes, rested her head against David's warm shoulder. There were times when the wisest and easiest course was to be a fatalist.

Shellie came awake when the car stopped. She heard a low rumbling louder than the engine. She'd dozed off, but had no idea how long she'd been sleeping.

David's arm was around her. He realized she was awake and gave her a comforting squeeze.

They'd reached their destination. Through the wide front windshield Shellie saw a gray steel overhead door rising. Beyond it, headlights illuminated a dark area with some barrels and boxes stacked on one side. About fifty feet beyond them was a brick wall, obviously very old. The wall bulged inward. The bricks were no longer aligned and ledges of broken gray mortar protruded from between them like too much icing between layers of cake. There was an old wooden workbench with what looked like tools stacked on it in the shadows near the wall.