Dirty Words - [15]

"It's a shadow," he said, without looking back at the photo.

"Looks like a bruise." I did my best to hide the contempt I was starting to feel. Who was I kidding? I always had a shallowly buried contempt for him. His proximity just made it blossom.

"Hey, whose side are you on? She's missing. I'm paying you to find her. You want my money or not?"

"I'm not on any side. I'm not being paid to be on a side yet. You want me on yours? Drop some cash or get the fuck out of my office."

Nathan stood up and slapped an envelope on my calendar, next to the new water stain. "You find her, you call me. I'll double it."

I counted two grand. "I'll call you if I get anything."

I resisted the urge to slam the door off his ass as he exited.

Junior stood at the door of the bar checking I.D.s when I got downstairs. "What did Jerk-wood want?"

"He wants us to find his girlfriend."

"Hah! You owe me twenty!"

"Don't think so. She might exist, but she's actually pretty." I handed him the photograph.

He snatched the picture from me with the hand that had H-A-R-D tattooed across the knuckles. "I'll be the judge of…daaaaaamn."

"See?"

"Man, I wish I had that dickshit's money." Junior squinted and looked closer.

"No kidding, huh?"

"Hey, that a shiner?" He flicked a finger under his eye with his right hand, the one with C-O-R-E on the knuckles.

"Shadow."

Junior gave me his 'bullshitting a bullshitter' glare. "Shadow?"

"Yeah. I'll be back in a half-hour."

Fenway Laundry was full of Berklee students even on Thursday afternoon. I walked in and felt a dozen pairs of eyes on me. I knew some of the kids in there from the club and could feel a jolt at my presence, as if I might bounce them from the laundromat.

A young Chinese woman sat behind the register, scowling at a newspaper. She lifted her eyes long enough to sneer at me, then went back to the paper. Obviously, I represented some icon of bloated Americana to her. I would have to use all of the Malone charm.

"Excuse me-"

"Change machine over there," she said in a way that indicated that it might be one of her few phrases in English. She pointed at the far corner with a long manicured nail.

"No, I-"

"Drop off over there." She pointed at the other corner filled with colorful laundry bags. Her eyes never lifted from the newspaper.

I held out Matilda's photograph. "Has this girl been in here lately?"

The woman slammed the paper down and unleashed a torrent of angry Chinese at me. Her finger whipped back and forth in the air, inches from my face. The words were alien, but the tone was unmistakable.

"Fine, fine…Jesus." I stepped back, feeling my ears redden. She was still yelling when I left. I've seen enough kung-fu movies to know that the word "gwilo" didn't indicate a fond warmth towards me. She said "gwilo" a lot.

In my hasty retreat, I plowed into a little guy carrying a laundry bag almost as big as he was. As we stumbled and flailed, I recognized the little guy as Nicky Bell, one of the local soundmen who sometimes worked the boards at The Cellar. Nicky skidded off the curb and dropped his laundry basket. I grabbed his frayed denim collar to keep him from toppling into traffic.

"What the frig, man?" Nicky grabbed my arm to steady himself, then saw who it was that nearly steamrolled him. "Hey Boo, you in a rush?"

"Yeah, escaping the Dragon Lady's fire breath."

Nicky chuckled. "Yeah, she's rough. You wash your clothes here? I thought you lived in Allston?"

"I do. Listen, you seen this girl in here recently?" I showed him the photo, hoping against hope.

"Matilda? Yeah. She was in here a couple of days ago."

My heart jumped. "You know her?"

"We've chit-chatted over the dryers, but yeah. You know she lived with that butthole Nathan? Dude with the glass eye?"

"He asked me to look for her."

Nicky's eyes went wide. "She's missing?"

"Maybe. Anything weird happen when she was here?"

Nicky frowned and shrugged. "Nothing that I could see."

Dead end. Dammit.

"Well, if you hear anything-if she comes in, call me at the bar?"

"Sure."

I looked back into the laundromat. Dragon Lady was still glaring at me through the glass.

I took my findings back to Junior. "I think she ran."

"Wouldn't you?"

Heavy footsteps sounded up the stairs. Somebody pounded hard on the office door. I swung the door open, ready to sock whoever it was. I found the angry red face of Nathan Underwood. I debated socking him anyway. "What the hell?"

"Look at this shit." He slammed a letter on the desk. On it was typewritten:

10,000 dollar or Matilda die.

Leave tomorrow

in laundry bag at Fenway

Cleaner drop off at 9p.m.

"Awww, hell no," said Junior.

I picked up the note by the edge. "Nathan, this is more than we agreed to. You need to go to the cops with this."

"No! No. Screw the cops and screw these guys. I want you to take this money and drop it off tomorrow." He dropped a bright blue laundry bag on the desk. The contents thumped.

"Is there ten grand in there?" Junior looked at the bag hungrily.

"Then I want you to follow the bag and take care of whoever did this."

I shook my head to clear out what I thought I was hearing. "Wait a minute. What do you think we're doing here?"