Part 15 (2/2)
”She said wait until they come sniffing around you,” Celeste burbles. ”And Ellie said who, and Mrs. King said be glad you still have to ask.”
”And she meant men,” Ellie nods. ”I knew. We all did. I just wanted to see if she would say it.”
And then I realize, abruptly, that Ellie, for all her bravado, all her eye-rolling teenage sarcasm, is about to cry. Despite the bubble gum pink smirk on her face, I can see tears are itching to pop from the corners of her powder blue eyes.
I know I should put my hand under her chin and rea.s.sure her somehow. But I don't.
”And then ... and then ...” Ellie's face is just seconds, mere seconds from bursting. ”She said that once they find the dark holes be-be-bebetween our legs, no matter how good it is, everything turns to s-s-ss-s.h.i.+t. Excuse me, Miss King, but that is what she said.”
Celeste's eyes grow wide with pleasure at her friend's daring, but I know better. I put my hand sharply on Ellie's shoulder and direct her out of the room.
She's just made it into the hallway, the cla.s.sroom door has just slammed shut behind us, when gla.s.sy tears tear open her once-smug face. Somehow Ellie has understood something about what she has seen, about what Alice has shown her. Why she understands, I don't want to know.
”It's okay, Ellie,” I say, leaning against the lockers. ”You're not in trouble.”
”Thanks, Miss King,” she says, tears jetting unabated. ”I know I'm not.” She rubs the long sleeve of her sweater over her face. ”Don't tell, okay?” Then she pulls her old face together, tight and contemptuous. ”Don't tell.”
And I won't. It would be one too many private dramas, after all.
It is late, after nine, after a long student a.s.sembly, and my head is still ringing from the sounds of throngs of teenage girls straining gracelessly to mimic Kay Starr.
I make my way quickly through the noiseless lot, where only a handful of cars remain.
As I near my car, a dark sedan lights up suddenly and veers over toward me. I scramble for my keys, guessing it is only a colleague wanting to share a commiserating good night but not wanting to take any chances.
As I slide into my front seat, the car pulls up beside me.
”So ... this is where you work. I wouldn't have guessed girls who moved in your circles taught school.” I turn my head, recognizing the familiar voice.
”h.e.l.lo, Detective,” I murmur.
Cudahy faces me with a grim-eyed stare. ”Get in,” he orders, reaching across and opening his pa.s.senger side door.
I do as he says, trying not to meet his eyes.
”Isn't this out of your jurisdiction?” I bluff.
”Yes,” he says.
”Oh.”
”I had you pegged for a liar, but not that kind of liar,” Cudahy says.
I feel my face burn and wonder what he knows, other than that I am obviously not the kind of girl who is a regular at places like the Red Room Lounge.
”You don't understand.”
”Sure I do, Miss Morgan. You figure, What's the harm? What's a dumb cop going to know? I'll have a little fun with him. Get my kicks.”
”No. No. I wanted to help, but I had these ... responsibilities.”
”Who to?”
”No, you've got me really wrong here. Horribly wrong.”
”You just protecting yourself or someone else too?”
”I've got nothing to do with it,” I say, still not looking at him directly. ”I know Lois through someone else. Lois is a friend of someone ... close to me. Lois was a friend of someone close to me.”
”Don't you think it's about time you started spilling it? Honest, I'm three seconds away from booking you. You've hampered a police investigation, lied to authorities-”
”Please. I do know Lois. I told you: I know she used narcotics. I know she was selling herself.” I pause, deciding whether I should hazard a guess about Joe Avalon's role. ”And I know that she had a ... someone who arranged things.”
”And who'd that be?”
I can't think fast enough. All I can think of is my face, blazing with shame. ”Don't you already know? I can't be the only person you've found who knew that.”
He looks at me long and hard, rubbing his chin and glaring. ”I don't know what you're doing to me here. I don't know- Look, I'm a real sap not to just bring you in. I'm doing you a big favor, but only if you can give me something.”
”He lives in Bunker Hill. You must know who he is. He takes care of everything for RKO, maybe others.”
I feel the weight of the gaze from the corners of my eyes.
”I don't know ...” A horrible pressure on my chest.
He reaches into his glove compartment and pulls out a folder, tossing it over to me. I open it with shaking fingers.
It is a photo of a man I've never seen before, with a lanky mustache and yellow eyes.
”I don't know who this is,” I say, relieved. I start to hand it back to him when the photo slips and another appears behind it.
There he is.
Droopy eyes, bushy black brows and lashes. I turn the photo over and see, in small type, ”Joseph Nathanson alias Johnny Davalos alias Joe Avalon 06/25/12.”
”Okay,” Cudahy say. ”Okay, then. Lucky guess.”
I look up at him. ”I don't know anything specific. I just figured ...”
”So who's this person who introduced you to Lois Slattery? Davalos?”
”No, no.”
I feel my throat go dry. A voice, some voice, rises up from inside. ”You won't involve me at all?”
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