Andrew Vachss - Two Trains Running

He shut off the ignition, climbed out, walked around behind the car, and opened Tussy’s door. She held out her hand. He gently took her elbow as she exited, then dropped his grip when she stood up. They walked to her front door, shoulders touching, hands at their sides.

“It was a lovely evening,” Tussy said, facing him. “I’ll never forget it.”

“Neither will I.”

“I…” Tussy looked around furtively, then whispered, “Could you really do it? Come back so nobody would see you?”

“I promise,” Dett said. “But it’ll be at least an hour, maybe more.”

“I’m not sleepy,” she said. “There’s a back door. But it’s pitch-black dark out behind the houses. Are you sure you can-?”

“I’m sure, Tussy. I promise I am.”

1959 October 06 Tuesday 02:00

“Lights,” the spotter called from behind his binoculars.

His partner waited, notebook in hand.

“On-off… two, three, four. Brights. Off.”

“That’s him, then.”

“Yeah.”

“What should we do?”

“Nothing,” the rifleman said. “He knows how to find us. He only signaled so we wouldn’t mistake him for a hostile.”

“He’s off the screen. Now where did he-?”

“He’s inside,” the rifleman said, gesturing for silence as he swung his weapon around to cover the doorway.

Thirty seconds later, the man in the alpaca suit stepped onto the top floor of the warehouse. He held a small flashlight, the beam aimed at his face, as if holding out his passport to border guards.

1959 October 06 Tuesday 02:46

When Tussy heard the tap at her back door, she opened it instantly.

“You shouldn’t do that, not without looking first,” Dett said, gently. “How could you be sure it was me?”

“Well, who else would be knocking at my door in the middle of the night?”

“I don’t know. But still…”

“Oh, come on in,” Tussy said, pointing at the kitchen table. She had changed into a pair of jeans, rolled up to mid-calf, and a man’s flannel shirt, the sleeves pushed back to her elbows. She was barefoot, and her face had been scrubbed free of makeup. “How do you take it?” she asked, as Dett sat down.

“Take…?”

“Coffee. My goodness.”

“Oh. Black, please.”

“Why are you… staring like that.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, dropping his gaze. “It’s just… Remember, before, when I was off by so much? When I was guessing how old you are? Well, now you look like you’re not even that old.”

“That’s very sweet of you to say,” she said, laughing. “But if I had to spend another minute in that girdle, I’d get blood clots, I swear.”

Dett ducked his head, not saying anything.

“You changed, too,” Tussy said. “Boy, I can understand why nobody would see you, dressed like that. Where did you get all that black stuff?”

“They’re work clothes,” Dett said. “Uh, for when I have to walk around certain kinds of property. Sometimes, you can’t wear good clothes. They’d get ruined in a minute. Stuff like this, even if I get them all dirty, it wouldn’t show.”

“I know what you mean. Some nights, my uniform looks like I’m wearing what everybody had for dinner.”

She placed a steaming mug in front of Dett. He sipped it, said, “This is really good.”

Tussy sat across from him. She lit a cigarette, and left it smoldering in an ashtray while she went to the refrigerator for a small bottle of cream. “Fireball,” she called. “Come on, boy. I’ve got your favorite cocktail.”

“I thought cats don’t come when you-” Dett interrupted himself when he saw Fireball enter the kitchen and stalk haughtily over to the saucer of cream Tussy had placed on the floor.

1959 October 06 Tuesday 02:48

“You’re out pretty late tonight, Holden.”

“Well, there was a lot going on, Sherman. ‘Specially for a Monday night.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes, sir! I got my logbook all ready for you,” Holden said. “See?”

“You do a beautiful job, Holden,” the big detective said. “I wish I had ten men like you. Let’s have a look. Hmmm… a couple of new ones, huh? Never saw these before.”

“The Buick? There was a man and a girl in it. Well, not so much in it. They was standing around, talking.”

“You hear what they were talking about?”

“Sort of. It wasn’t any of the stuff you said to be sure and listen for, Sherman, I know that. Just about growing up and things. The girl told him about her parents being killed.”

“Killed?” Sherman Layne said, taking care to keep his voice level.

“By a drunk driver,” Holden said, proud that he had remembered. “It was a long time ago.”

“A blond girl? Kind of short? Chubby?”

“That’s right! Boy oh boy, Sherman. You must be as smart as Sherlock Holmes in the movies.”

Tussy Chambers? He repeated the name to himself, as he copied down the license number of the Buick Holden had discovered.

“And I got something else, too!” Holden said, excitedly. “About the Cadillac? I never seen it before. And I couldn’t see the people inside, neither. Where they were parked, I couldn’t get close enough to hear what they was saying, but I know the voice, Sherman. Of the girl, I mean.”

“Who was she?”

“I don’t know her name, Sherman. But I know her voice. It was a colored girl.”

“Out here? In your section?”

“Yes, sir! And that’s not all, Sherman. I know her name. Part of her name, anyway.”

“Slow down, Holden. Easy… That’s right. Let’s you and me go sit in the car, where we can discuss this like professionals.”

“In your car, Sherman? The police car?”

“The unmarked car, Holden. Detectives don’t use black-and-whites, right?”

“Right!”

The two men walked over to Sherman’s Ford and climbed in. Sherman let Holden devour the interior with his eyes for a couple of minutes, then said, “Tell me about the girl, Holden.”

“She was a colored girl, Sherman.”

“Yes. I wrote that down, Holden. But you said you knew her name…?”

“Kitty,” Holden said. “That’s what the man called her.”

“You sure he didn’t say ‘kitten,’ now? That’s what some guys call their girlfriends. You know, like ‘honey,’ or something like that?”

“No, sir. I heard it plain. ‘Kitty.’ He called her that a lot. ‘Kitty.’ Plain as day.”

Might be a street name, Sherman thought to himself. But I can’t see any Darktown working girl coming way out here to turn a trick.

“But, listen, Sherman. There’s something else. See, the man she was with, I heard his name, too.”

“And what was that, Holden?” Sherman said, feeling his interest fade. Holden always tried his best, but…

“Harley,” the forest prowler said. “Harley was what she called him.”

1959 October 06 Tuesday 05:41

As Carl showed up for work, early as always, Dett and Tussy were falling asleep together, she in her beloved house, Dett in Room 809.

Dioguardi was at his weight bench in the cellar of his restaurant, stripped to a pair of gym shorts and sneakers, seeking that almost-exhausted physical state that unleashed his mind.

Rufus daydreamed of fire.

1959 October 06 Tuesday 08:01

“Come on, Beau. It’s a real Indian-summer day. We won’t have many more like this before it gets cold out.”

“Not today, Cyn. I’ve got too much work to do.”

“You always have work to do. So do I. So does everyone else. But you never get any sun, Beau. That’s no good for you. Remember what Dr.-”

“I haven’t believed a doctor since I was a kid,” Beaumont said, flatly. “Why should I?”

“Oh, forget the doctor, then. But you need to get out, get some fresh air. You could play a few games of horseshoes with Luther. You know he loves it when you do.”