True Detective (16 page)

She thought, and played with the diamond ring, turning it slowly from side to side, just a bit. "I know what you've always dreamed about doing. But it's so impractical."

"Well that's what I'm doing."

"You mean you're going to be a private eye. Like Ricardo Cortez in that movie we saw."

"Yes. but I don't think I'm going to get a smoking jacket or a pretty secretary right away, like Cortez."

"Neither do I."

"And I'm not
going
to be a private eye. I
am
a private eye. Detective. Operative. Whatever."

She nibbled at her cheesecake.

"I thought you'd be unhappy," I said.

"Did I say I was unhappy?"

"No. I'm psychic."

"Did you think about asking your uncle Louis for a job?"

"No."

"Well, why did you quit the department, anyway?"

"Why do you think?"

"Because you were involved in that Nitti shooting? So what?"

I hadn't really told her that whole story yet; maybe it was time. Maybe I should tell her what really happened. If she was going to be my wife one of these days, I ought to trust her. She should've been told days ago.

I told her.

She shook her head, angrily, as I finished up. "They just came in and grabbed you. didn't even tell you what they were up to? Louses. Bums." She shook her head again. "But why quit over it?"

"Don't you understand? Don't you understand why they picked on
me
?"

She shrugged. "The Lingle case. I suppose."

"That's right."

"And they'll expect you to testify for them at the Nitti trial."

"Well I will testify for them."

"If you stayed with the department and testified, you could get something out of it. Why quit, and help them cover up, and get nothing out of it?"

"Because I am getting something. I'm getting my private op's license in return."

"Oh."

I told her about the Cermak meeting; that impressed her. She loved that part. And I told her about Nitti. which impressed her in a different way: it seemed to scare her a little. And then I told her about Dawes, and she
really
liked that.

"What's
wrong
with you. Nate? Why don't you take advantage of Dawes' offer?"

"Three grand for supervising some pickpocket operations at the fair
would
'be easy money; it'd make my first year in business a rousing success even if not a single other client walked in my door."

"That's small potatoes. You can get something better out of Dawes and your uncle. You could get a
real
job. with a bank or a business or something."

"No. You don't seem to get it. Janey. I
am
in business. I'm the president of A-l Detective Agency. How 'bout some support here? How about you back me a little?"

She looked blankly at the center of the table, where a candle in a silver deco centerpiece glowed. "Where do I fit in? What about us? Our house?"

"I still have that money in the bank. I haven't had to dip into it yet. But I do think we should wait a year and see how I'm doing. If the money's coming in okay, and I haven't had to dip into the nest egg. we can start looking for that house. Does that make you happy?"

She looked up, found a little smile for me. "Sure it does. I only want what's best for you, Nate."

"Then believe in me."

"I do."

"Would you like to see my office?"

"Of course I would."

"It's a short walk; pretty short. Over on Van Buren and Plymouth."

"Near the Standard Club?"

"Yeah. 'Round the corner from there. Hey, I'll treat you to a cab, if you're not up to a walk."

"I'm up to a walk, Nate. Let's get our coats."

So we walked back, in the mist, arm in arm; she snuggled up next to me, but seemed distant, for being so close. She smelled like flowers; I couldn't tell you what flowers, exactly. But I can smell 'em right now…

And at the building. I unlocked the street entrance and had her go on up, and followed her up the stairs, and then led her to the office and let her in. Turned on the light.

"A Murphy bed?" she said.

"I live here, too," I said.

"Well, it's no worse than the Adams."

"It's better. Here I can have female guests. if I like."

"Let's make that singular. okay? Female guest?"

"Okay," I grinned. "What do you think?"

"It's pretty? roomy. For one room."

"Take a look at this." I opened the door to the washroom.

"Deluxe," she said, ambivalently.

I put my hands on her arms. "Look. I know this isn't anything special. But it's all I got. And it means a lot to me."

"I'd rather hear you say that about me."

"Honey. You know I love you."

"I love you, Nate." she said, flatly.

I took her in my aims and held her close; she responded, but her heart didn't seem to be in it.

So I kissed her. Long and hard, and put everything I had into it. including my tongue in her mouth, and she came around; she came on fire, and clutched at me with something like desperation.

She took the alpaca coat off and laid it gently on the desk. She stood with hands on the hips of her smart rust-color dress and said, "I've never used a Murphy bed in a box; only ones in the wall, like at my flat."

I shrugged. "Why, you want to see how this one works?"

"Yeah. I'm interested."

I took the bed down out of its box; it was made: that was probably why I'd been three minutes late for lunch at Saint Hubert's earlier.

"No big deal," I said.

"Oh I don't know," she said. "Get the lights, would you?"

I got the lights.

Neon pulsed in from the street as she undressed. She did it slowly; there was no tease to it, she was just methodical: loosening the belt, unsnapping some snaps under one arm, slipping the dress up and over her head, laying it on the desk. And then she was in a camisole and lacy, flared panties. The points of the perfect handfuls under the camisole poked at the cloth; the lacy panties rode her thighs, a garter belt riding the panties, dark sheer brown hose rising up her thighs to where the bare stretch extended to where the flared panties came down, and then the flared panties came down, and her heart-shaped pubic tuft called to me. She lifted the camisole over her head and the pink points of her breasts scolded me. She stood there with hands on bare hips and basked in the neon and, head back a bit, smiled her impudent, cock>' smile, knowing how beautiful she was, knowing the power she had, and walked slowly over and began undressing me.

She had a Sheik in her hand, in her palm. She'd carried some with her, apparently- we kept a supply at her flat- and had got it from her purse at some point, unbeknown to me, and was now slipping the condom down over me, tenderly, lovingly.

She was the first girl I ever knew who preferred being on top; I didn't mind. She rode me well, and I could watch her, see how lovely she was, as she reared her head back, lost in herself, as was I, and I put my hands on those breasts, filled my hands with those soft firm breasts, filled my mouth with as much of them as I could, and thrust into her, controlling her from below as best I could, and she rode me, slowly, and she rode me, not slowly, and she clutched her breasts and moaned and moaned till the moan was too loud to be called a moan, and too pleasure-filled to be a scream, and I emptied my seed up into her.

Into the condom, actually.

"I wish I was really in you," I said.

She was still on me; she smiled down, sadly. "You'd like a son, wouldn't you?"

"I suppose. I'd like a family. With you."

She got off me, gently, disappeared into the washroom, the cheeks of her rear jiggling engagingly as she went. She was in there awhile, and there was a flushing, and water ran, then she came back and had some tissue and removed the condom from me and went and disposed of it.

She walked to the desk and got into the panties and camisole and came back to bed; we crawled under the covers. She cuddled to me, nuzzled my neck.

We were quiet for a long time- maybe half an hour. I thought she was asleep, but suddenly she said, "Do you think you could still take Cermak up on his offer?"

"What?"

"You know. Get back with the department. Be a sergeant, a deputy coroner; be on one of his special squads."

"On one of the hoodlum squads? You want to hear something about the mayor's hoodlum squads?"

I told her about the Nydick shooting.

"I don't see how that has anything to do with you." she said afterward.

"The hoodlum squads are vile even for Chicago. Janey. I don't mind a little honest graft, but this has got out of hand. Janey. You know how my father died."

"He killed himself with your gun. It was a long time ago, Nate. It's time to let go of that."

"It wasn't that long ago. It was a year and a half ago. He did it because I gave him money."

"I know. I know. You wanted him to be able to renew the lease on his store, and you gave him the thousand dollars you got. along with your promotion, for testifying in the Lingle case. It's an old story. Nate. You got to let go of it."

"I gave him the money and told him I saved it, but he found out from somebody where it came from and he killed himself with my gun."

"I know, Nate."

"And now I've killed somebody with that gun. Somebody I didn't even know, all because my reputation as somebody you can buy in a murder case preceded me. Everybody in town thinks I'm for sale."

"Everybody in this town
is
for sale."

"I know that. I'm no virgin."

"You aren't?"

"Cut it out. I just got to live with myself."

"I thought you wanted to live with me."

"I do. I want to live with you, marry you. have babies with you, live happily ever after with you."

"That's a nice dream. It's a dream that could come true real easy, if you just took one of those offers."

"What offers?"

"Cermak's offer. Or Dawes'. Dammit, Nate, even Frank Nitti offered you a job. That would've been money, too."

"Are you saying you'd approve of that?"

"It's not my business how you make your living. If I'm going to be your wife, it's my business to give you moral support."

Say good night. Gracie.

"Look." I said, "I've always wanted to be a detective. The cops turned out not to be the place to do that. Now I've got a chance to try it on my own. for real. It may not pan out. But can't you let me
try
? Can't you give me. say, a year? Just put that moral support you're talking about behind Nathan Heller, President, A-l Detective Agency, for a year, and if I'm not at least matching my income as a member of the Chicago P.D., I'll hang it up and go to Uncle Louis and beg for a job. Fair enough?"

She thought about that, then nodded. Smiled. "Sure."

She cuddled to me awhile.

Then she said, "You know, working at the county treasurer's office is really interesting. You see a lot of important people; you see a lot of important things happening. Take my boss, Mr. Daley. He's about your age, Nate. Just a couple years older. He's so dynamic. He's involved with the tax end of things, sure, but mostly he's involved in the political end. I pick up on more of that than most people, you know, because my father's a precinct captain, you know. And Mr. Daley, he's just a little older than you, and there he is, in there distributing the jobs, handling the ward committeemen from all over the city, dealing with powerful men, in a powerful way. And then at night he takes night school, can you imagine? He'll be a lawyer before you know it. He lets me help him more than most of the others, because he blows my father so well, and he knows I'll cover for him, if he needs it, when his night school cuts into his duties."

"It's too bad you're already engaged," I said. "Then you could marry the little Mick."

"Oh. he's engaged, too. you know that." she said distantly. Then, catching the slight, wrinkled her chin and said, "Nate. I'm just trying to make a point."

"Which is?"

"Daley's going places."

"He can go to hell, as far as I care."

"You're jealous."

"Pissed off is more like it."

"Oh. Nate. I'm sorry… I just want
more
for you. I just want you to live up to your potential."

I didn't say anything.

She studied me in the near dark.

She kissed me on the mouth; I didn't kiss back.

"What's wrong?" she grinned, impishly. "Did I take it all out of you?"

I couldn't help grinning back. "Let me do it without using anything."

She kept smiling, then said. "All right." and started climbing on top of me.

"No." I said. "I want to be on top. Janey."

"Okay, Nate. I want you on top. too."

I got on top; I got in her. I'd never been in her without a Sheik before; it was wonderful. It was sweet. It was warm and sweet and wonderful and I pulled out. Rolled over on my back.

"Nate!" She put her hand on my chest. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Janey. would you mind getting your clothes on?"

"What?"

"Please."

"What did I…?"

"Nothing. Please. Just do it."

She got out of the bed slowly. There were tears in her eyes; she dressed quickly. Put on her alpaca coat. I was dressed by now myself; I got my topcoat on and walked her out of the building and to the El.

We stood and waited for the next train in silence.

Just as it was pulling in. I said. "Janey, I'm sorry. It's just that… well. I've had people trying to control me. to manipulate me all week. I've been bribed just once too many times this week."

She looked at me; the brown eyes were wet, the bee-stung lips were tight, trembling. She took her gloves off, removed the engagement ring, pressed it into my hand.

"Merry Christmas, Nate," she said, and turned toward the waiting train.

Then she turned back, quickly, and kissed my cheek, and got on the train and was gone.

I went back to my office and sat behind the desk, looking at the rumpled bed, smelling her in the room, the flowery perfume scent, the musky scent, too. I could've opened a window and got rid of it. But I didn't. I figured I'd be rid of it soon enough as it was.