William Bernhardt - Deadly Justice

“Aren’t we all?” The woman laughed, a coarse, heavy braying. “Run along, Betty Sue. This corner’s taken.”

“These here blocks belong to Sonny,” another woman said. “He don’t care much for competition.”

“Especially dressed like her,” the third commented. “Really brings down the neighborhood.”

“I do like this wrap, though,” the black woman said. She began to tug Christina’s boa off her neck. “I like this a lot.”

Christina clamped down on the boa. “What’ll you give me for it?”

The woman smiled. “How ’bout I just ask Sonny not to carve you into little pieces?”

Christina’s throat felt very dry. She peered across the street. Was it just her imagination, or did she feel Sonny’s eyes bearing down on her?

“Run along now, sugar. We don’t need another working girl around here.”

“But I’m not—” Christina scanned her attire. “Ben assured me that I did not look like a—a—”

“Honey, why else would you be here?”

“Well…” Christina felt her face beginning to turn crimson. “Maybe I’m shopping.”

“Oh, honey, we don’t do none of that weird stuff. Maybe up on Fifteenth.”

“No, you don’t understand. I’m not interested in other women.”

“Then you’s on the wrong block.” The tall woman pointed down the street.

“But I am trying to find a particular young woman,” Christina insisted. “Someone named Trixie.”

The three women all exchanged a quiet glance. “You ain’t the first.”

“Do you know where she is?”

“No. We don’t know nothing.”

“Don’t try to con another woman. I saw the way you all looked at one another. You must know something.”

“Nope. Never heard of her.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely positive.”

“No way I could change your mind?”

“Not a chance.”

“I’ll let you have my boa.”

The woman’s chin rose; her eyes fell upon the long white fluff. A moment later, she placed her hand on the boa and slowly pulled it away from Christina’s neck.

“I still can’t tell you nothing,” the woman said. But Christina noticed that she was staring across the street and down a block. “Follow the pennies.”

“What does—”

“That’s all I know. Now git !” Christina took the hint and left. Across the street and one block down, she found two men in their early thirties dressed in tight jeans and fringed jackets. Obviously hooking. She took a deep breath and plunged ahead.

The man closer to her cocked an eyebrow. “Wanna date?”

Christina tried not to barf. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

The man stepped closer and placed his hand on her waist. “You’ve come to the right place, baby. Thirty dollars and you’ll be in paradise.”

Christina’s teeth set on edge, but she kept smiling. “Actually, I had something specific in mind.”

He ran his hand through her hair. “I’m flexible.”

She laughed nervously, “No, you misunderstand. I’m looking for a particular person.”

He pressed his legs and groin against her. “I’ll make you forget him. I’ll make you forget everyone you’ve ever known.”

“Well, how nice.” Christina cleared her throat and straightened her skirt. “Seriously, though—”

“You’ll feel ecstasy like you’ve never felt before. Your body will tremble; your thighs will ache. You’ll have a hurt that only I can fix.” He leered at her. “And the wonderful thing is, I’ll be right here the next time you need me.”

“Boy, that’s…really…some kind of deal.” Christina was uncommonly warm, and the fact that his breath was smacking her in the face didn’t help any. “But I’m actually looking for a woman. Someone who works here, or used to. Her name is Trixie.”

The man disentangled himself and backed away, a snarl on his lips. “Shit! Is everyone in town looking for that stupid bitch?”

“You know her?”

“You’re talking to the wrong person.” He gestured toward his companion. “You should—”

The other man glared at him, silencing him with a look.

“I should what?” Christina faced the other man. “I should ask you? Do you know where Trixie is?”

The second man practically spit at the first. He shoved him aside roughly.

“Hey, Buddy, watch it. I didn’t say nothing.”

“You said too much, you stupid-assed whore.” Buddy stepped into the streetlights and ran a hand through his thinning red hair. “I don’t know anything about this…Trixie.” His voice was thin and nervous. “No one does. You might as well go home.”

Christina gave him a quick once over. Buddy had a pasty white complexion and a pudgy figure; he lacked the harshness of most of those she had spoken to tonight. This tough guy routine did not appear to come naturally to him.

“Why is Trixie hiding?” Christina asked. “Why are you protecting her?”

“The street people got to look out for one another. No one else will.”

“The police are trying to help her.”

“Like hell. The Fury almost got her killed. Twice. Least that’s what I heard,” he added hastily. “They can’t help her any more than they helped the first four. They couldn’t care less about us. They’ve been screwing around, asking stupid questions, doin’ strip searches and dicky checks on everyone they find. Sick bastards. That’s why all the sickos and perverts come here to do their hurting and killing. No one cares. We’re the invisible people.”

“Could I at least get a message to Trixie?” Christina asked. “It’s very important that I reach her.”

“Wouldn’t know how. I told you—I don’t know where she is. In fact, I don’t know who you’re talking about; Now get off our corner.”

“It’s a free country.”

“Not here it ain’t. Here, everything costs.” He glanced across the street. Two flamboyantly dressed men were leaning out the open window of a brick building. Something glistened in one of their hands. Something that bore an unsettling resemblance to a knife.

“Time for you to shove off, lady.”

“Yeah, fine.” Christina edged away, careful not to turn her back to them or the men in the window. She hurried back the way she had come, watching for Ben’s Honda. She tried to remain rational, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was closing in on her, lurking over her shoulder, watching her every move.

She saw a dented front grill that positively identified the car as Ben’s and crossed toward it. Thank God. She couldn’t get off this street fast enough.

39

“STAY DOWN!” BEN WHISPERED harshly. “He might recognize you.”

“I’m down, I’m down,” Christina muttered. She was crouching in the floor of Ben’s car. “How long do you think I can stay scrunched up here?”

“As long as it takes. No one ever said a stakeout would be comfortable.”

“Just as well. I’d sue for breach of warranty.” She raised her head slightly. “How much longer are we going to wait?”

“Not long. He’s starting to move.” Ben eased the transmission into drive. “Come on, Buddy. Take us home.”

Ben watched the pudgy man in the fringe jacket cross the street and walk north on Cincinnati. He was moving at a brisk pace, without hesitation.

Ben followed as far behind as possible, lights off. He took a pair of binoculars out of the glove compartment and focused on Buddy. He stayed just close enough to keep his quarry in binocular range.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Christina whispered. She wasn’t sure why she was whispering; it just seemed appropriate somehow.

“Of course I do. I’ve been on stakeouts before. And Mike once showed me how to tail a suspect in a car.”