Nobody's Angel (24 page)

"Ain't got one yet, huh?"

I held up the can of mace. "Just this," I said. "How about you?"

"I got a rod," he said softly.

"Really?"

"I ain't taking no chances," he said. Then he leaned over the back of my seat and showed me a small, blue-steel automatic. "What do you think?"

"Yeah," I said. "That's what I need. Something not too big. What's that, a .22?"

".32, man. Take some asshole's head right off, you have to."

"Ain't it a bitch," I said. "You gotta go to work with a gun to make a living in this fuckin' town."

"I been telling people how hard cabdrivers work," he said as he sat back. "Most people they work their five days. But you know, being a cabdriver, you work every day, right?"

"That's about it," I agreed. "What kind of shift you pulling?"

"I do nights."

"Yeah, I figured that much," I said. "What hours?"

"Four to midnight," he said. "See, I just quit. Got off a little early tonight."

"An eight hour shift? That's nice." It was almost unheard of, in fact. "What kind of nut you paying?"

"Huh?"

"How much you pay for the cab?"

"Seventy-seven," he said.

"Seventy-seven dollars for eight hours?" That's what some companies charged for a 24-hour cab. It was much more than I paid for twelve.

"I make out okay," he said.

"Really?" I said. He was either a liar or someone was playing him for a sucker. And then, just like that, it came to me who he really was. Suddenly, I knew why he looked so familiar. And I realized how easily Lenny and I had been conned, how easily everybody had been conned.

I could suddenly see Billy up along Ridge the other night standing alongside a parked cab. He'd drawn a circle in the air as I'd passed and I thought he was trying to tell me it was a nothing night. Now, I realized what he'd really wanted was a ride. He was asking me to circle back after I dropped my passenger.

But Lenny, a minute or two behind me, had shown up instead.

"What we need is more rain," Billy said.

"I hate driving in the rain," I said mechanically.

"Yeah, but the money's good," he said, driving another nail into my coffin.

It was the day drivers who prayed for rain, sleet, and snow. Night drivers generally preferred good weather. At night, bad weather usually kept everybody close to home.

I slowed down a bit. What was the hurry?

If I ever got the chance, I would have to apologize to Rollie. It would be my turn to buy the coffee. Fuck, I'd buy the whole goddamn store.

"Something wrong, Eddie?" Billy asked after a while.

"Just tired," I said.

"What you need is some rest. You probably been working too hard."

"Probably," I agreed.

This far north, Ashland was a wide, residential street. There was plenty of traffic but there wasn't a cop in sight.

I slipped the mace out of the ashtray and set it on my lap. Maybe I could turn around like the old black driver in the detective's story and just spray away. Yeah, sure. My new friend Billy probably had the gun in his hand. I didn't stand a chance.

I was scaring myself silly, I decided a few blocks later. He probably was just another in a long line of dumb-as-a-box-of-rocks cabdrivers who didn't know a damn thing about their own business. Being on Ridge the other night didn't necessarily make

him a murderer. I decided to give him another chance. "Your owner live up by Devon?" I asked.

"My what?"

"Your owner," I said again. "You drive for a private owner, right?"

"I drive for Yellow," he said.

"Oh," I said. He'd been leaning against a Checker, most of which were privately owned. But maybe he'd parked the Yellow across the street or around the corner somewhere. "You must have a foreign dayman," I tried again.

"Why you keep asking all these questions, man?"

"Just making conversation," I said.

"See, I've only been doing this for a couple of months," he said. "So I don't really know all the lingo."

"Just do it when you need money, huh?"

He thought that was funny. "That's right," he said, and chuckled for a while. "That's exactly right. You're too smart to be driving a cab, Eddie. You know that?"

"Yeah," I said. "That's me, all right." I'd been telling myself the same thing for years and now here was somebody who finally agreed.

We were coming up to the six-corner intersection of Lincoln, Belmont and Ashland. Once upon a time this had been the biggest shopping district on the North Side. Now all the department stores were gone. Many of the buildings were completely deserted. Huge FOR SALE and FOR RENT signs were everywhere.

One thing remained from the old days. The intersection was NO LEFT TURN 24hours a day. And usually there was a squad car hiding somewhere, trying to make the monthly quota off some stray motorist.

I timed it so Billy wouldn't have a chance to stop me. I slowed to let a couple of cars clear then I jumped on the gas and turned left just in front of a CTA bus moseying north in the right lane.

"Where you going, man?" Billy shot up and leaned over the front seat.

"This is a little shorter," I said, which was true. "Lincoln to Larrabee to North, save you some money." No blue lights appeared in my mirror which didn't really surprise me. They were never around when you wanted them.

"No. No. No," Billy said. "Take the next right."

I was doing about forty-five, a nice even twenty over the limit, and I didn't slow down.

"Where the fuck you going?" he shouted as we passed through the intersection. Something cold and hard touched the nape of my neck, and a hand grabbed my hair and snapped my head back.

"Slow down, motherfucker," he said as the steel dug into my skin.

I slowed down. "You ain't no cabdriver," I said evenly.

"Now you're gonna make the next right or I'm gonna blow your fucking head off. Understand?"

"Yeah," I managed to say.

I put the right turn signal on. The Golden Batter Pancake House was a half a block ahead on the left. There wasn't a cab in sight. But a squad car was parked in the bus stop.

"Keep your cool, Eddie. You'll be okay," Billy whispered. He released my hair. "Ain't nothin' bad gonna happen, Eddie. You gotta trust me now. Just keep your cool. Keep your cool."

And I could hear him saying those same words to Lenny. "Ain't nothing bad gonna happen, Lenny." And I saw that picture of Lenny again, one dead eye surrounded by slaughter.

I started into the turn and then ducked and laid on the brakes as hard as I could. He came halfway over the front seat and I threw an arm at him and jumped on the gas and cut the wheel hard left. He went flying backwards but I didn't give him a chance to rest. I braked hard again, and this time when he came hurtling forward I got him square in the head with my forearm. The gun went off twice--close and loud--and before I could get my foot back on the gas we bounced over a safety island and the gun sailed out of his hand, slid along the front seat and fell to the floor. I grabbed the mace with one hand, the steering wheel with the other, laid on the brakes and sprayed away.

We came to a stop with the front of the cab on the sidewalk. Billy-boy had his

 hands to his face. I gave him a few more squirts, just to be sure, but then I began to feel

 the mace myself. I reached down and grabbed the gun and jumped out of the cab. Billy boy was coughing away back there, trying to open the door. I ran around the car and opened it for him and he crawled out coughing, his hands to his face.

I slapped him with the gun a few times. I was yelling something about Lenny, I don't remember what. The shots were still ringing in my ears. Billy boy dropped his hands and his face was covered with blood.

I gave him one final slap and then decided he'd had enough. I grabbed him by the neck and pushed him towards the restaurant.

A pair of uniformed cops met us at the door. "This is the guy " I said, and that was as far as I got.

One cop grabbed me and slammed me against the wall of the restaurant, pulling the gun out of my hand and pinning my arms behind my back. The other cop slipped handcuffs on my wrists and started to push me towards the squad car.

"Hey, he's the guy you want," I shouted. "He's the guy "

"Save your energy, pal," the cop said, squeezing the handcuffs tight. "You're gonna need it where you're heading."

"He went crazy on me." Billy-boy figured out which way the wind was blowing. "I don't know what happened." He coughed. "Next thing I know, he pulled a gun."

"This guy " I tried again but the cop threw me against the squad and began to frisk me.

Billy-boy coughed. "Then he starts spraying mace," he said. "Fucking dude is crazy."

"You just sit still," the other cop said, "we'll get you an ambulance."

"This guy " I tried one last time.

The first cop opened the door of the squad car and shoved my head down. Clair came running up, still dressed in street clothes. "Eddie, are you okay?" she called as they pushed me into the back seat.

"Call Detective Hagarty over at Belmont and Western," I managed to shout. "Tell him it's the guy. It's the guy." I tried to point my head towards Billy.

He'd gotten a towel from someone. He was wiping the blood from his face but I swear he winked as the cops slammed the door and locked me inside the cage.

"It's the guy," I shouted as loud as I could.

Upon being given a destination by a passenger, the public chauffeur shall proceed immediately to such destination by the most direct route, unless directed by the passenger to take another route.

City of Chicago, Department of Consumer Services, Public Vehicle Operations Division

"Look, you got the wrong guy," I said as we pulled away from the pancake house, leaving the flashing lights of the ambulance behind.

"Shut it," the cop behind the wheel said.

"Or we'll shut it for you," his partner said. He banged my cage with his nightstick.

I had no better luck with the cops at the station house. They weren't calling any detectives for me. This was the same station I'd visited the other night.

Before long, I found myself sitting on the floor in the back of a crowded lockup. I was between a Mexican kid, in for drunk driving, and an older black guy, on his way home to the penitentiary.

"I was just out for a little vacation," the black guy explained without sorrow. "I like to come out every couple years, make sure the world's still round. But six month's about all I can stand. These streets will kill you, you hang around too long."

My only hope was that Clair had understood my frantic shouting. But would Hagarty and Foster understand what she meant? Would they get my message before Billy-boy up and disappeared?