Andrew Vachss - Choice of Evil

We talked it over once, me and him. If I ever went away for a long stretch again, I told Max to tranq her out and then move her over to Elroy’s. He’s a crazed counterfeiter who lives in a shack out in the country with a pit bull who gets along with Pansy. I know she’d stay there peacefully—she did it before. Elroy had wanted Pansy and his dog to get together, create a brand-new breed. But they were pals, not lovers, and he finally accepted it.

There was nothing else I had to worry about. Everyone in my family could take care of themselves. And each other. I didn’t have bills to pay or a landlord to worry about. My family had too much sense to come on visiting day. Crystal Beth would have come no matter what they told her, I thought. I cut that off quick, before it started to hurt.

I was ready, just waiting on the ID.

Then I got a call, and everything changed again.

“Yes, say that,” Mama told me, adamant.

“She said she was my girlfriend ?”

“Yes. Say that. I ask her who this is, right? She say, Tell him his girlfriend called.”

“You recognize the voice?”

“No. Maybe. . . not sure. Hard to tell with Europeans. All sound alike.”

“She didn’t leave a number? A message?”

“Just call, okay? Ask for you, okay? I say you not here, call back, okay? Who you? She say, ‘His girlfriend,’ then hang up. No more.”

I didn’t waste time trying to figure it out. “You seen Max around, Mama?”

“Sure. Here before. With baby.”

“He coming back?”

“Always come back,” Mama said. Something was wrong—the whole song was a beat off.

“What is it, Mama?” I asked her, looking her full in the face—something you do with her only when you’re dead serious.

“What you do with these. . . people?”

“What people, Mama?”

“Crazy people. What you do with them?”

“Mama, I’m not following this, all right? I’m working.”

That should have ended it. Working was sacred to Mama. And she knew what kind of work I did. Same as hers, only I played it different. But we were both thieves in our hearts. All of us in my family were. We might have had different reasons, but nobody ever asked. Sometimes we told—I knew about Max, and I knew about Michelle—and sometimes we didn’t—the Prof never explained, he just taught. Nobody ever asked Mama. And if she told Max, he kept it to himself. I’ve known Mama forever. And the only time she was ever upset with me was when I wasn’t working. But her face was stone and her eyes were harder.

“It’s just a job,” I tried again.

“You go after that girl, right?”

“Girl? What girl? You think the killer’s a woman?”

“Not killer. The girl. The one you bring in here. The one you marry.”

“Marry? Mama, what the hell are you talking about? I never—”

“Crystal Beth,” Mama said. No description, an actual name. Very strange for her. “You live with her, yes? Love her, right?”

“Mama, I—”

“You go where she is, Burke? You go to be with her?”

“Me? Mama, no! You think this is some kind of kamikaze run, I—”

“Huh!” is all she spat back at me. I realized I’d screwed up halfway through the word. Mama hates anything Japanese, even their expressions.

“Mama,” I said, dropping my voice, going into my center for patience, calling on the credit I’d built up, “you know I don’t lie to you.”

“Uhn,” is all I got back from her mouth. But she nodded, unable to deny what I said.

“This isn’t about suicide. I know there’s nothing. . . there. Crystal Beth’s down in the Zero, right? She’s gone. I can’t find her. And people don’t come back from the dead.”

“Some people not die.”

“What does that mean? She’s dead, Mama. No question about it. Dead and gone.”

“So you look for. . . who? People who kill her? Or man killing. . . them?”

“What?”

“Your woman killed. Accident, right? I mean, not her they killing. Just hate those. . . people.”

“Homosexuals?”

“Yes,” Mama said, looking as close to embarrassed as I’d ever seen her. “Hate. . . them. Not her. Not. . . personal, right?”

“Right.”

“This other one, big killer. He kill them too, he find them, right?”

“Sure. Looks like he’d happily waste any fag-basher on the planet.”

“But you look for him, right? You find him, then he stop. No more killing, right?”

“Ah. I don’t know, Mama. That’s not my deal. The people who want me to find him, they want to help him. Help him get out of here, get safe. They sure as hell don’t want me turning him over to the cops.”

“Sure sure. But he still stop then, right?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“So the ones who kill your woman. . .?”

“Mama, I don’t know who they are. I don’t have any way to find them. And thanks to this ‘Homo Erectus’ guy, every fag-basher in the city has gone to ground. People are even afraid to talk about it, much less do it.”

“All wrong,” Mama said.

“What?”

“All. . . timing, yes? All wrong, also. Your woman die. Not the only one, right?”

“Right. They just sprayed. . .”

“Yes. And then killer comes walking.”

“Right. That must have blown his fuse. Last-straw kind of thing, I don’t know.”

“I know,” Mama said.

“You know. . . what?”

“How many die?”

“I don’t know. A few dozen, at least. He’s been—”

“Not him. With your woman?”

“Just one other. The rest were wounded, but. . . Jesus. Mama, you saying it was a hit? And they just made it look like a fag-bashing?”

“Not. . . how you say, credit, right?”

“Right,” I said, thinking it through. Sure. What terrorist kills without bragging about it? And nobody had. So when this Homo Erectus started making his move, everybody thought they knew why, but, maybe. . .?

“So you think. . . maybe it was just a murder? And Crystal Beth died for camouflage? They knew who they wanted, but just covered it up? Like setting fire to a whole building full of people to kill one of them—the cops think it’s an arson, but it’s really a homicide. Sure, could be. But the only man I ever knew who worked like that was. . . ”

Mama looked at me. Into me. I got it then. That was his style. Almost his trademark. You paid him for a body, you got a body. If he had to make a whole bunch of bodies to cover his tracks, so what? I remember the first time the Prof had pulled my coat to the truth. Years after we’d all been released. “No man knows Wesley’s plan, brother. Nobody knows where he’s going. But everyone knows where he’s been.”

“Wesley’s dead,” I said to Mama.

She just shrugged.

The pay phone rang about an hour later. I picked it up, said, “What?”

“Didn’t the Chinese lady tell you I called?” Nadine’s voice, edged with irritation.

“She said someone who said they were my girlfriend called. Somehow, I didn’t think to make the connection.”

“I told you before,” she said softly. “You have to start telling the truth. I always do.”

“My platonic girlfriend, then, right? I guess they didn’t get the joke here.”

“What joke? Your nose is so open I can see your brains.”

“That’s what happens when you use those fake-color contact lenses, bitch. They really cloud your vision.”

“Keep playing, honey. It doesn’t change anything. I’ve got what you want.”

“Not a chance.”

“In fact,” she purred into the phone, “I’m holding it right now.”

“There’s guys who’d pay you three ninety-five a minute for that kind of crap—why you wasting it on me?”