Part 24 (1/2)
”Well, we're not going to get anything else done tonight. It'll be sunrise in a few hours. Start of s.h.i.+ft tomorrow night we'll go talk to Frederica.”
”Who's she?”
”Funny you should ask,” I said, holstering my gun.
We found Freddie, or Frederica, as he preferred, trolling for s.p.a.cers around some of the wilder off port bars in what used to be Governor's Island. Freddie did an astonis.h.i.+ng job of pa.s.sing for a good-looking girl: with black hair, a splendid surgically enhanced rack and nice legs. Freddie had the brains to do other things but his soul had turned dark early. Or as he put it, 'I like the night life.'
We cruised over to the curb. Freddie spotted the unmarked and smiled a lop sided smile after he saw it was me. We got out of the car. It was still raining, always seemed to be lately.
”McMa.n.u.s,” said Freddie, looking out from under an umbrella at me. ”You finally come to your senses and leave your wife for me?” The husky voice didn't quite give Freddie away. A whisky voice my dad would have called it.
”Sorry, Freddie,” I replied. ”Not that you don't look good.”
Freddie did a mock pirouette, his dress swirling up around legs that were unfairly feminine. ”So what can I do for you, Flatfoot?” he asked, using my street name.
”Knock off the c.r.a.p,” snapped Reg.
Freddie raised an eyebrow at Regina. ”Ooohhh, she's a cutey. New girlfriend, Brian?”
”Freddie, meet Detective Regina Delmar. Reg, meet Freddie.”
”That's Regina,” she said archly, then looking at Freddie added, and to you it's Detective Delmar.”
Freddie extended a hand. Reg ignored it, so Freddie turned it into a curtsey. I could see Regina going into a slow b.u.m.
”Come on, ladies, there's a coffee shop across the street. We can get out of the rain. I'll even buy.”
”See,” said Freddie with a wicked grin. ”Brian thinks I'm a lady.”
Reg muttered something obscene under her breath.
Hoping gunfire wouldn't break out behind me, I led the way to a little Greek shop. We slipped in out of the rain and grabbed a table by the window. Gusts of errant wind scrubbed rain into the gutters outside. The waiter, a Rigellian, looked like a cross between an old man and a goat. He smelled like the goat. He brought us coffee and danishes.
”So, Freddie,” I said, ”what do you know about Arcturians?”
”Bad people,” said Freddie with a delicate shudder. ”Got a lot of weight and like throwing it around.”
”Lately there's one who seems to be moving into the smuggling racket,” I said. I sipped the coffee, savoring its warmth and smell. The danish was good too.
”Heard that,” said Freddie.
”What else have you heard?” asked Regina.
Freddie gave me an expectant look.
I slipped a small envelope across the table to Freddie. He took it without looking inside. It was the usual. Not much, but it was a ritual. It insulated us from any thought that our relations.h.i.+p was anything other than business.
”There's an Arcturian named Toldas Harkarian,” said Freddie, ”trying to set up a network to move something past a few corrupt customs guys over in Area Eighty Eight. Haven't heard what it is. You tangled with him last night, I hear.”
”How do you know that?” asked Reg.
”Oh, honey,” said Freddie. ”When a beautiful female cop goes running topless through a feelie p.o.r.no, whacking people on the head... well... word gets around. You've got a street handle now, Topless.”
I could hear Regina's teeth grinding.
Freddie continued. ”The Arcturian is working with Ratface Moestel. He owns the theater. Say, did you catch any of Lair of the Lesbian Love G.o.ddess?”
”I was too busy to watch,” I lied, not daring to look at Regina.
”Film's got artistic merit,” said Freddie, ”especially the scenes where the Love G.o.ddess ties up-”
”Freddie,” I said, exasperated.
”Oh, all right. You know Moestel?”
”Yeah, I know him,” I replied. ”Never heard of him being mixed up in anything other than sleazy movies.”
”He moves a lot of stuff out the back of the theater,” said Freddie. ”Fenced goods, contraband, things that fall off the truck when the union boys are loading.”
”The uniforms should have picked up on that,” said Reg.
”Unless they are being paid to look the other way,” I replied.
”The theater is the drop-point for the stuff, whatever it is. That's all I know.”
”Thanks, Freddie,” I said.
Freddie drained the last of his coffee. ”See you around, Flatfoot. Thanks for the coffee. Nice to meet you, Topless.” Freddie sashayed out into the dark and rain.
Regina started to say something but caught my eye and subsided.
After a minute we got up and headed for the car. The rain awaited us. It fit my mood. Seeing Freddie always made me feel sad. His was a wasted life and nothing would change it. We got back into the car.
”How do you know that... that person?” asked Reg.
”Freddie was getting the c.r.a.p beat out of him by some s.p.a.cers. False advertising.”
”What?”
”Goods delivered were not goods bargained for. Some of those Free Traders get kind of picky about that sort of stuff.”
She looked at me.
”You know, our work day would feel a lot shorter if you'd develop a sense of humor.”