Andrew Vachss - Blossom

Arnold's face flickered, computing. "Got to be one of those 'assault rifles,'" he sneered. "Which is just about anything with a Kalashnikov action. The caliber isn't the problem. Damn near has to be .223. Could be Russian, Chinese, even Brazilian. Everybody makes a knockoff of the original. But your guy, he'd want the look , okay?"

"The look?"

"Like high-tech, man. Dark and evil. I figure him for a Mini-14 with all the goodies. Black plastic stock, flash suppressor, maybe even a bipod on the front for prone-position fire. Maybe an AR-15 but…I like the Mini. You can get 'em anywhere, real cheap."

"Through the mail?"

"Hell, yes. Buy all the camo gear he wants too, boots to hats. Underwear, he wants it. The Mini, it'll take anything from twenty rounds up. Up to a hundred, he wants to go with a drum."

"Silencer?"

"Now that's a different game, man. You can buy books on how to make them, but a good one, one that'd work, he'd have to know somebody. That .223 stuff, it pulls a high harmonic. Like a crack, you know? Not a boom."

"Arnold, let me ask you one more question, okay? You sell a rig like the one we're talking about here in the last few months?"

"Oh, man. I don't sell junk."

"But if some guy had only so much cash…?"

"Guy like you're asking about, he wouldn't know where to find me."

76

WHEN WE CAME back to the table, Blossom and Rebecca had their heads together, whispering. We sat down. The waitress brought Virgil a bottle of beer, looking a question at me. I shook my head no.

Virgil looked at his watch. "We need to pull out of here in a few minutes. There's another band coming on— we don't want to walk out in the middle of their set. Wouldn't look right."

Blossom rested her fingertips lightly on my forearm as we walked to the car.

Just before we crossed into Indiana, Rebecca spoke from the back seat. "Want to visit with us a bit, have some coffee?"

"Blossom has to work early tomorrow morning," I told her.

The blonde woman's voice was sweet and soft. "I'm a big girl now. I can get myself up in the morning."

Virgil laughed. "You as smooth as ever, Burke."

I caught his eyes in the mirror. The Prof was right— once a Hoosier, always a Hoosier.

Blossom curled in her seat, looking out the window.

77

A LIGHT SHONE in the kitchen as we walked up the path to the back door. Lloyd was seated at the table, a book propped in front of him. Line of fresh stitches across the bridge of his nose. Saw Blossom. Blushed. Kind of ducked his head, mumbled something that sounded like "Hi."

She gave him a dazzling smile I didn't know she had. "You watching the kids?"

"Sure. They're in bed, fast asleep. I figured…maybe I'd better wait up till you all got back."

Virgil nodded his approval.

"Any calls?" Rebecca asked.

"Just your friend Bette. Said she'd see you tomorrow."

"Okay, honey. Thanks. You want some coffee— we're all having some."

"If it won't…"

He didn't take his eyes off Blossom all the while we sat and talked. About nothing. Soft stuff. Virginia was getting to the age where she cared about the clothes she wore. Junior was starting first grade as soon as summer ended. Lloyd had cut the lawn without being asked.

The pistol felt heavy in my coat pocket. If I was back in New York, I wouldn't have noticed the weight.

78

IT WAS ALMOST one in the morning when I brought Blossom back to her house. I walked her to the door. Stood outside while she put the lights on. Lit a smoke.

She came back onto the front porch. The gull watched us from his cage, waiting his time. "When do we start?" she asked me.

"Start?"

"Looking."

"I've already started. I'll fill you in tomorrow night."

"I told you…there's things I could do. With you. On this."

"If it's still running when you quit your job, then we'll see."

"No night work for me on this job?"

"Maybe. Not yet."

"See you tomorrow night." I turned to go.

"Burke…"

"What?"

"Don't be mad at Virgil. I knew your name wasn't Mitchell Sloane."

"How?"

"Sherwood."

"The man opened right up to you, didn't he?"

"Some men do."

I tossed my cigarette away.

"Come here," she said. Gentle.

She stood on her toes, kissed me lightly on the cheek. "Thanks. I loved hearing your brother play."

"See you tomorrow."

"Okay."

79

I STOPPED AT a pay phone. Dumped in handfuls of quarters.

Called the junkyard. When the phone was picked up, I said, "Tell the Prof to find Vincenzo at the library tomorrow. Bring him over to Mama's. Have him wait between eight and nine. I'll call." The phone went down.

80

THE NEXT MORNING, I started to look. The way it works, you draw a blank page in your mind. Fill in everything you know. See what's left. If there's too much left, too much white space, you make some guesses. Test them out.

I had plenty of white space. I slapped the black tiles down, moving them around. Not enough. I switched the tiles, part of my mind seeing the pattern they made.

Pattern.

I played with it.

81

LUNCHTIME, I WENT to the diner. Cyndi was happy to see me. Told me about a new guy she was dating. He worked at the plant.

"But he's going to college at night. Says he doesn't want his kids working in the mill."

"He's got kids?"

"No." She giggled. "The kids he's gonna have."

I saw the police cruiser roll up. Ford Crown Vic, cream-colored, dark brown fenders. Two cops got out. Came inside, stopped at the counter. Talked to Leon.

On the jukebox: Maxine Brown. "It's All in My Mind."

Blossom came up to my table, her canvas bag slung over one shoulder. She leaned over. "Give it to me."

"What?"

"What you picked up last night. Hurry!"

I slid the pistol into her bag. Went back to my tuna on rye. Shadow fell across my plate. Cops. Big heavy one, potbelly looming over his gun belt. Smaller one, narrow all the way up through his eyes.

"How you doing?" the big one asked.

"Just fine, Officer."

"That's good," his partner said.

"Anything I can do for you?"

"Could tell us what you're doing around here."

"Working for Bart Bostick. The lawyer."

"We know who he is. Heard about your little arrangement with him."

"So?"

"So Sherwood don't run the department. Captain does, you understand?"

"Sure."

"Good. This work you're doing for Counselor Bostick…it wouldn't involve carrying concealed weapons, would it?"

"Nope."

"Mind if we take a look? With your consent, of course."

"Look where? For what?"

"In your car. Maybe in your jacket. For a gun."

"And if I don't consent?"

"Then we just…" the smaller one said. The other guy jumped on his lines. "Then we just ask a judge for a search warrant. You understand, we got laws here. About ex-cons carrying firearms."

"You gonna do this every day?"

"This isn't a roust, friend. You're clean now, we figure you're working clean, okay?"

I handed him the car keys. "If the phone rings, take a message, will you?"

The smaller cop's face got tight. "Think I'll just stay here. Keep you company."

"I got a better idea. How about if I go outside to the car with you. Let you take your look. Look at me too, you want."

The big cop nodded.

We went outside. They took a look, patted me down. Carefully. Got back into their cruiser. The big one said "Have a nice day" through the window.

"Same to you," I told him.

82

BACK INSIDE. When Blossom came back around, the canvas bag was gone.

"How'd you know?" I asked her.

"One day, when I was leaving the precinct, one of those cops came up to me. Sort of implied Sherwood and I had been trading something besides information."