Dirty Words - [16]

"You take care of them and get Matilda. Then you keep what's in the bag. Nobody fucks with me and my money."

I refrained from reminding him that his 'hard-earned' money came from the lawsuit when he was seven years old and lost an eye after he decided to play in an unguarded construction lot.

"Is there ten grand in there?" Junior asked again, hypnotized by the blue vinyl.

8:48 p.m. Junior and I sat in his '79 Buick that he, for one reason or another, had named Miss Kitty. We shivered in the late October chill, as Miss Kitty had decided to stop blowing heat sometime during Reagan's second term. October in Boston may not have been Minnesota bad, but it sure as hell wasn't Brazil either.

"It's Nicky," he said, blowing steam off his coffee.

"What are you talking about? Nicky couldn't kidnap a toddler without getting beat up. I'm telling you, Dragon Lady's involved. Chinese Mafia."

"Nicky said she 'lived' with Nathan. Why would he use past tense?"

"What are you, the Grammar Police?" I rubbed my hands together for warmth.

"Hey, your best proof is bad spelling in the note."

"Her English was about as good as your Chinese."

"How do you know Nicky's literate? He works with musicians."

"Good point."

"Besides, you're forgetting the Man Laws."

He had me there. It was damned good evidence. "Maybe…"

"Maybe nothing. What kinda guy has a full bag of laundry after he tells you he was at the laundromat two days earlier? What guy do you know does laundry every two days?"

"There might be some."

"When was the last time you did your laundry?"

I was silent. Junior and I often did the 'scratch and sniff' method of laundry assessment on our clothes. "September."

"First week?"

"Yeah."

"Exactly." Junior smugly lit a cigarette. I'm not sure how he pulled off the smugness, but he did.

I checked my watch. "It's almost nine. Pop the trunk." I climbed out the car and went around back. The trunk remained shut. "The trunk, Junior!"

Even from outside the car, I could hear him muttering. The trunk opened, and I pulled the bag out. Ten grand felt surprisingly light.

Junior rolled down his window. "Are we really going to beat on whoever walks out with that bag?"

"You suggested we go to the casino."

"Not the point. So we're basically going to be mugging the kidnapper?"

"That's one way to look at it. First and foremost, we're going to find Matilda."

"Then we mug the kidnapper."

"Then we take our fee. Functionally, this belongs to us now. How they want to give it to us is their business. You willing to get rough for your share?"

"For five grand, I'd step on your neck."

"That's comforting."

"Double or nothing says it's Nicky."

"Then I got twenty on The Dragon."

We shook on it and I walked into the Dragon's Lair. She was yelling shrilly at a trembling girl holding an armful of wet clothes. "No dryer in ten minutes. We close in hour!"

I tried my best to scurry past without catching her attention. One time, Junior and I fought off an entire biker gang by ourselves. They didn't rattle me half as much as the hundred-pound Asian woman. Scurrying, however, is best left to those under two hundred and thirty pounds.

"Hey," she yelled at my back.

I cringed and turned. She started yelling at me again. Why did this woman hate me so much? She used that "gwilo" word again. I pointed at the blue bag like I was returning something of hers that I'd stolen. I placed it gingerly on the drop-off pile and rushed out. I didn't feel safe until I closed the car door.

"It done?" Junior asked.

"Done," I sighed.

"Why are you sweating?"

We waited and watched the laundromat with all of the focus that two A.D.D.-addled morons could muster. At ten, the Dragon Lady locked the door and shut the lights.

No Nicky.

Nobody left with the blue bag.

Junior was jittery. "Man, it's freaking me out that there's ten grand sitting on that floor."

"Dragon Lady hasn't left yet." As I said it, she opened the door again and looked up and down the street. We huddled low in our seats. Even in the expanses of the big Buick, our combined quarter-ton of dude flesh was compressed uncomfortably by the huddling.

"You smell nice," I said.

"Touch me and die."

We watched her pull down the gate, then stroll down the street carrying the blue bag. "Ah-ha! You owe me forty now."

"If she brings that bag to Nicky, it's a draw."

Junior pulled out of the parking space and crept down the street at a respectable distance. We traveled ten feet before she stopped in front of a multi-dwelling brownstone.

"Junior! Follow her."

"What? Why me?"

"She knows me. She knows I'm looking for Matilda."

"Dammit."

He parked again and trotted over to the building as I crouched low. When she struggled with the door, Junior politely held it open for her. I saw him twitch as she for whatever reason rewarded his politeness with some of her venom. I swear I heard "gwilo" again. She walked in, Junior watching her through the door. Then he hopped back to the car on one foot.

"Why are you…? Where's your shoe?"

"Holding the door open. Move your ass."

We ran back to the building. Well, I ran. Junior bounded quickly. "Which apartment?"