At home, he checked on his mother. She was unconscious in bed, and snoring with her mouth open. Brazil leaned against the wall in the dark, the night-light a sad dim eye. He was depressed and frustrated.
He thought about West and wondered why she was so heartless.
‘e’/ W West walked into her own small house and tossed keys on her kitchen counter as Niles, her Abyssynian cat, appeared. Niles was on her heels, much like Brazil had been all day, and West flicked on her sound system and Eiton John reminded her of the night. She hit another button, changing to Roy Orbison. She walked into the kitchen, popped open a beer, and felt maudlin and didn’t know why. She went back into the living room and turned on the late-night news. It was all about the killing. She plopped on the couch at the same time Niles decided she should. He loved his owner and waited for his turn as the TV played bad news about a dreadful death in the city.
“Believed to be another out-of-town businessman simply in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Webb said into the camera.
West was restless, worn out and disgusted, all at the same time. She wasn’t happy with Niles, either. He had climbed up her bookcases while she was out. She could always tell. How hard was it? He leapt up three shelves, just high enough to knock down bookends and a vase. As for the framed picture of West’s father on the farm, well, what did Niles care about that? That cat. West hated him. She hated everyone.
“Come here, Sweetsy,” she said.
Niles made his ribs rattle, knowing how much it pleased her. It worked every time. Niles wasn’t stupid. He reached around and licked his hindquarters because he could. When he looked at the lady who kept him, he made sure his eyes were very blue and crossed. Owners fell for that, and, predictably, she snatched him up and petted him. Niles was happy enough.
West wasn’t. The next day when she got to work, Hammer was waiting for her deputy chief, and everybody seemed to know it. West left her Boj angles breakfast with out even opening the bag. She dropped everything and hurried down the hall. West almost ran into Hammer’s outer office and felt like giving Horgess the finger. He very much enjoyed West’s negative reaction to being summoned like this.
“Let me call her,” Horgess said.
“Let me let you.” West didn’t disguise how surly she felt.
Horgess was young, and had shaved his head. Why? Soon he would dream of hair. He would lust after it. He would watch movies starring people with hair.
“She’ll see you now,” Horgess said, hanging up the phone.
“I’m sure.” West gave him a sarcastic smile.
“For God’s sake, Virginia,” Hammer said the instant West walked in.
The chief was gripping the morning paper, shaking it, and pacing.
Hammer didn’t wear pants often, but today she was in them. Her suit was a deep royal blue, and she wore a red and white striped shirt and soft black leather shoes. West had to admit, her boss was stunning. Hammer could cover or show her legs without gender being an issue.
“Now what?” Hammer railed on.
“Four businessmen four weeks in a row.
Carjackings, in which the killer changes his mind, leaves the cars?
Robberies? A weird hourglass symbol spray-painted on the victims’ groins? Make and model, names, professions. Everything but the damn crime-scene photos right there for all the world to see! ”
The headline was huge:
BLACK WIDOW KILLER CLAIMS FOURTH VICTIM
“What was I supposed to do?” West said.
“Keep him out of trouble.”
“I’m not a babysitter.”
“A businessman from Orlando, a salesman from Atlanta, a banker from South Carolina, a Baptist minister. From Tennessee. Welcome to our lovely city.” Hammer tossed the paper on a couch.
“What do we do?”
“Letting him ride wasn’t my idea,” West reminded her.
“What’s done is done.” Hammer sat behind her desk. She picked up the phone and dialed.
“We can’t get rid of him. Got any idea how that would look? On top of all the rest of it?” Her eyes glazed as the mayor’s secretary answered.