Family Honor - Robert B Parker (10 page)

Millicent stared at me for a while.

"That doesn't make any sense," she said, "loving something
that doesn't do anything for you."

"It certainly doesn't," I said. "What size are you? Four?"
"I guess so. My mother always bought all my clothes."

"Well, I think some of my stuff will fit you. Go take
a shower and then we'll pick out something."

"Why have I got to shower?" she said.

"Clean is good," I said. "Especially if you're going to
be wearing my clothes."

"I don't want to take a shower."

I nodded.

"Of course you don't," I said. "And up to a point I care
about what you want. But we're past the point. Either take a shower or
I'll drag you in there and hold you under."

She stared at me. I stared back. Finally she shrugged
and got up and walked into the bathroom.

"Shampoo your hair," I said.

The door closed. I cleaned up her coffee cup and the coffeemaker
and gave Rosie a dog biscuit. Then I went and laid out several pairs of
jeans and several tee shirts on my bed, so Millicent would feel like she
had a choice. She came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around
her. Her hair was straight and glistening. Her nails were clean. She didn't
look anywhere near fifteen. I gestured at the clothes.

"Pick something," I said.

She took the first pair of jeans on the bed and the nearest
tee shirt.

"You have any underwear?" I said.

"No."

"Of course not," I said. "Why would you."

"I won't wear yours," she said.

"That's right," I said. "We'll get you some next time
we're out."
 

"So where you get the money to buy these clothes?" Millicent
said. "Alimony?"

"I don't get alimony."

"How come?"

"I don't want it. There's no reason he should support
me the rest of my life."

"So how come you can afford to buy me clothes."

"I do detective work," I said. "People pay me. Like your
parents did."

"My mother says a woman alone's got no chance."

"No more than a fish does," I said. "Without a bicycle."

"Huh?"

"Just me amusing myself," I said.

"Well, I'd take the alimony," Millicent said.

"Alimony destroys any kind of relationship people might
have," I said.

"Well, you're divorced, aren't you?"

"It doesn't mean we hate each other," I said. "If there
were alimony, eventually we would."

"So how come you got a divorce if you don't hate each
other?"

"We're still working on that one," I said.

When we pulled up in front of my loft we found a long
silver Mercedes Benz parked on the curb. Junior and Ty-Bop were outside,
Junior leaning on the fender, Ty-Bop fidgeting on the sidewalk by my front
door.

"Who are those colored guys?" Millicent said.

"The big one's name is junior," I said. "The little one
is TyBop. The man in the car will be Tony Marcus."

"Who's he?"

"Runs the prostitution around here," I said. "He used
to be your boss."

"What do they want?"

Millicent was very much less bellicose than she had been.
She seemed to be getting smaller as she looked at junior and Ty-Bop. Her
shoulders hunched.

"I don't know," I said.

"They want me?"

"Tony helped me find you," I said.

"Let's drive away."

"Tony wants to talk, he'll talk," I said. "Now or later.
May as well be now."

"I don't want to talk."

"You don't have to," I said. "You stay here with Rosie.
I'll see what he wants."

"I don't want you to go." Millicent said. I smiled at
her.

"I'll talk with Tony. We don't want junior to come over
and bite one of the doors off."

I got out and closed the door and walked over to the Mercedes.
The back door opened and Tony Marcus stepped out, looking elegant in a
pinstripe suit and a pin collar shirt. His neck was a little soft, as if
he'd become so successful he didn't need to be muscular anymore.

"We need to talk, Sunny Randall," Tony said.

"Sure," I said.

Tony looked at my car.

"Got the little hooker, I see," Tony said.

"Yes."

"What's that thing in there with her?" Tony said. "My
dog, Rosie."

"That's a dog?"

"Yes."

Tony offered his arm.

"Walk along with me a little, Sunny Randall."

I took his arm and we walked slowly east in front of my
building. Junior and Ty-Bop followed us.

"I wondered how quick you'd find her," Tony said.

"I know."

"And I wondered how you'd deal with my man Pharaoh, when
you did find her."

"I know."

"Got to say this for you, Sunny Randall," Tony said. "You
done pretty good."

"Yes," I said.

"Like to have seen it," Tony said. "You sticking a gun
up Pharaoh's nose and taking one of his whores away."

Tony laughed softly. It was a surprisingly high laugh,
almost a giggle.

"He told you about it?" I said.

"Hell no," Tony said. "Some of the other girls saw it.
I keep track of shit."

We walked a few steps further in silence. At the end of
my building Tony turned with my hand still on his arm, and we began to
walk back. However his neck may have softened, his arm was strong. Ty-Bop
andJunior let us pass and fell in behind us again.

"I got no problem with it," Tony said. "My pimps can't
hang on to their whores, I find me somebody that can."

"I'm just helping you with quality control," I said.

"Sure you are, Sunny Randall. Problem is that somebody
else looking for that little whore, too."

We walked. I waited.

"You quiet for a broad, Sunny Randall."

"And you're not," I said. "Who's looking for her."

Tony was laughing his high, soft laugh again.

"Goddamn," he said. "'And you're not.' Goddamn. Sunny
Randall, you crack me up."

"I know, sometimes I nearly overwhelm myself. Who's looking
for her?"

"Some Irish guys," Tony said. "Came by to see Pharaoh,
said they was looking for the little whore. We talking pop-u-larity, here.
First you, then the two Irish guys."

"I'm a trendsetter," I said.

"So Pharaoh don't want to say that some pretty little
blond chick come along and took her away from him, so he say he don't know
where she is and the two Irish guys don't believe it, so they beat up on
Pharaoh till he tell them what happen."

"And?"

"And he tole them. He maybe dress it up a little so he
don't look like a fucking doofus, which he is, and he don't tell them your
name because he say he don't remember it. He tell them some female detective
come and took his new little whore."

"Who are these guys?"

"Don't know."

"You sure they want Millicent?"

"Millicent Patton, they said."

"You know why?"

"Pharaoh didn't ask. They didn't say."

I nodded. We reached the other end of my building and
Tony turned again.

"Do you believe Pharaoh?" I said.

"Junior helped me talk to him," Tony said. "Pharaoh not
doing no lying to me and junior."

"Do you think they'll ask you?" I said. Tony shrugged.

"If they do you think you'll tell them?"

"Ain't inclined to be helpful to somebody beats up one
of my pimps."

We strolled quietly again.

"Inclined maybe to let my man junior beat up on them,
truth be known."

"How is Pharaoh?" I said.

"Pharaoh's dead," he said.

"They killed him?"

Tony shook his head. I felt the truth all at once, an
electric tingle in my stomach.

"You killed him," I said.

"Can't have one of my pimps giving whores away to every
little blond cutie comes by with a gun," Tony said.

We reached his car. He stopped. Ty-Bop opened the door.
Tony got in. Junior went around and eased in behind the driver's seat.
Ty-Bop closed Tony's door and got in the front. The car started. Tony's
rear window slid down silently. Tony smiled at me.

"Look sharp, Sunny Randall," he said.

The car slid away from the curb and cruised almost silently
away.
 

"Is that supposed to be Boston?" she said.

"It's supposed to be a painting," I said.

"Of what?"

"How Chinatown looks to me when you approach it from around
Lincoln Street."

"I never been to Chinatown."

"Really? You like Chinese food?"

"I never had any."

"We'll go," I said. "What if I don't like it?"

"Chinatown?"

"Chinese food."

"Don't eat it," I said.

"What if I'm hungry?"

"I don't plan to starve you," I said. "We'll go eat some
other kind of food."

"Even if you've already paid for the Chinese stuff?"

"Yes. Sometimes six bucks doesn't mean a thing to me."

She looked at the painting some more. I hadn't told her
about the Irish guys. I might have to, because she might be the only one
who knew what they wanted. But right now it was like training a horse.
I just wanted to gentle her down.

"How come you painted this?" she said.

"I liked the way it looked, the shape of it, the colors
at that time of day."

"You mean it's not always the same color?"

"Color is a function of light," I said. "Light changes,
the color changes."

"Weird," Millicent said. "You get paid for this?"

"I sell some pictures," I said.

"Will you sell this one?"

"I don't know."

"So you might be wasting your time."

"I don't think of painting as a waste of time," I said.

"Well, if you don't get paid, what good is it?"

"I like it."

"That's all?"

"I know how to do it. I like doing it."

"That's all?"

"'I'hat's all," I said.

She was quiet for a while. When we got home she had immediately
gone into the bathroom and put on her new underwear. Some of which was
pretty nice.

"Like the dog," Millicent said.

"The dog?"

"Yeah. You have a dog just because you want to, no good
reason."

"Maybe that is a good reason," I said.

"You supposed to have a reason for stuff," Millicent said.

"Like why you ran away from home?"

"I told you, I don't like it there."

"Oh yeah," I said.

Rosie had found the long rhomboid of sunshine that slanted
in through the skylight, and was lying in it on her back, with her short
legs sticking straight up and her tongue lolling out of the side of her
mouth.

"I'm going to have to tell your parents I found you,"
I said.

"You told me you wouldn't."

"No. I told you you didn't have to go home."

"You tell them and they'll make me come home," she said.

"I won't tell them where you are, but they have the right
to know you're alive and well."

"They'll make you tell," Millicent said.

"No," I said.

"You work for them."

"I work for myself."

"But they're paying you."

"That's their problem."

"You won't tell them where I am?"

"No."

"Ever?"

"I don't know about ever," I said. "But I won't tell them
until you and I have decided it's in your best interest."

"Even if they won't pay you anymore?"

"Even then."

The doorbell rang. Rosie was instantly on her feet in
full yap. As I walked to the door I took my gun off the bureau and held
it at my side. I looked through the peephole. It was Richie. When he came
in Millicent was as far at the other end of the loft as she could get.
If Richie saw the gun, which he did because he saw everything, he didn't
comment.