Robert Parker - Family Honor

“The big one’s name is Junior,” I said. “The little one is Ty-Bop. The man in the car will be Tony Marcus.”

“Who’s he?”

“Runs the prostitution around here,” I said. “He used to be your boss.”

“What do they want?”

Millicent was very much less bellicose than she had been. She seemed to be getting smaller as she looked at Junior and Ty-Bop. Her shoulders hunched.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“They want me?”

“Tony helped me find you,” I said.

“Let’s drive away.”

“Tony wants to talk, he’ll talk,” I said. “Now or later. May as well be now.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“You don’t have to,” I said. “You stay here with Rosie. I’ll see what he wants.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Millicent said.

I smiled at her.

“I’ll talk with Tony. We don’t want Junior to come over and bite one of the doors off.”

I got out and closed the door and walked over to the Mercedes. The back door opened and Tony Marcus stepped out, looking elegant in a pinstripe suit and a pin collar shirt. His neck was a little soft, as if he’d become so successful he didn’t need to be muscular anymore.

“We need to talk, Sunny Randall,” Tony said.

“Sure,” I said.

Tony looked at my car.

“Got the little hooker, I see,” Tony said.

“Yes.”

“What’s that thing in there with her?” Tony said.

“My dog, Rosie.”

“That’s a dog?”

“Yes.”

Tony offered his arm.

“Walk along with me a little, Sunny Randall.”

I took his arm and we walked slowly east in front of my building. Junior and Ty-Bop followed us.

“I wondered how quick you’d find her,” Tony said.

“I know.”

“And I wondered how you’d deal with my man Pharaoh, when you did find her.”

“I know.”

“Got to say this for you, Sunny Randall,” Tony said. “You done pretty good.”

“Yes,” I said.

“Like to have seen it,” Tony said. “You sticking a gun up Pharaoh’s nose and taking one of his whores away.”

Tony laughed softly. It was a surprisingly high laugh, almost a giggle.

“He told you about it?” I said.

“Hell no,” Tony said. “Some of the other girls saw it. I keep track of shit.”

We walked a few steps further in silence. At the end of my building Tony turned with my hand still on his arm, and we began to walk back. However his neck may have softened, his arm was strong. Ty-Bop and Junior let us pass and fell in behind us again.

“I got no problem with it,” Tony said. “My pimps can’t hang on to their whores, I find me somebody that can.”

“I’m just helping you with quality control,” I said.

“Sure you are, Sunny Randall. Problem is that somebody else looking for that little whore, too.”

We walked. I waited.

“You quiet for a broad, Sunny Randall.”

“And you’re not,” I said. “Who’s looking for her.”

Tony was laughing his high, soft laugh again.

“Goddamn,” he said. “‘And you’re not.’ Goddamn. Sunny Randall, you crack me up.”

“I know, sometimes I nearly overwhelm myself. Who’s looking for her?”

“Some Irish guys,” Tony said. “Came by to see Pharaoh, said they was looking for the little whore. We talking pop-u-larity, here. First you, then the two Irish guys.”

“I’m a trendsetter,” I said.

“So Pharaoh don’t want to say that some pretty little blond chick come along and took her away from him, so he say he don’t know where she is and the two Irish guys don’t believe it, so they beat up on Pharaoh till he tell them what happen.”

“And?”

“And he tole them. He maybe dress it up a little so he don’t look like a fucking doofus, which he is, and he don’t tell them your name because he say he don’t remember it. He tell them some female detective come and took his new little whore.”

“Who are these guys?”

“Don’t know.”

“You sure they want Millicent?”

“Millicent Patton, they said.”

“You know why?”

“Pharaoh didn’t ask. They didn’t say.”

I nodded. We reached the other end of my building and Tony turned again.

“Do you believe Pharaoh?” I said.

“Junior helped me talk to him,” Tony said. “Pharaoh not doing no lying to me and Junior.”

“Do you think they’ll ask you?” I said.

Tony shrugged.

“If they do you think you’ll tell them?”

“Ain’t inclined to be helpful to somebody beats up one of my pimps.”

We strolled quietly again.

“Inclined maybe to let my man Junior beat up on them, truth be known.”

“How is Pharaoh?” I said.

“Pharaoh’s dead,” he said.

“They killed him?”

Tony shook his head. I felt the truth all at once, an electric tingle in my stomach.

“You killed him,” I said.

“Can’t have one of my pimps giving whores away to every little blond cutie comes by with a gun,” Tony said.

We reached his car. He stopped. Ty-Bop opened the door. Tony got in. Junior went around and eased in behind the driver’s seat. Ty-Bop closed Tony’s door and got in the front. The car started. Tony’s rear window slid down silently. Tony smiled at me.

“Look sharp, Sunny Randall,” he said.

The car slid away from the curb and cruised almost silently away.

Millicent was looking at one of the cityscapes I was painting. It stood on an easel in the studio, under the skylight where I got the sun until midafternoon.

“Is that supposed to be Boston?” she said.

“It’s supposed to be a painting,” I said.

“Of what?”

“How Chinatown looks to me when you approach it from around Lincoln Street.”

“I never been to Chinatown.”

“Really? You like Chinese food?”

“I never had any.”

“We’ll go,” I said.

“What if I don’t like it?”

“Chinatown?”

“Chinese food.”

“Don’t eat it,” I said.

“What if I’m hungry?”

“I don’t plan to starve you,” I said. “We’ll go eat some other kind of food.”

“Even if you’ve already paid for the Chinese stuff?”

“Yes. Sometimes six bucks doesn’t mean a thing to me.”

She looked at the painting some more. I hadn’t told her about the Irish guys. I might have to, because she might be the only one who knew what they wanted. But right now it was like training a horse. I just wanted to gentle her down.

“How come you painted this?” she said.

“I liked the way it looked, the shape of it, the colors at that time of day.”

“You mean it’s not always the same color?”

“Color is a function of light,” I said. “Light changes, the color changes.”

“Weird,” Millicent said. “You get paid for this?”

“I sell some pictures,” I said.

“Will you sell this one?”

“I don’t know.”

“So you might be wasting your time.”

“I don’t think of painting as a waste of time,” I said.

“Well, if you don’t get paid, what good is it?”

“I like it.”

“That’s all?”

“I know how to do it. I like doing it.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all,” I said.

She was quiet for a while. When we got home she had immediately gone into the bathroom and put on her new underwear. Some of which was pretty nice.

“Like the dog,” Millicent said.

“The dog?”

“Yeah. You have a dog just because you want to, no good reason.”

“Maybe that is a good reason,” I said.

“You supposed to have a reason for stuff,” Millicent said.

“Like why you ran away from home?”