A Long Line of Dead Men

"Formerly the Hell-Fire Club," she said. "We were talking about it the other day, remember? That's its new name, Marilyn's Chamber. As in torture chamber, I guess, and as in the former porn star. See Mick tomorrow night and you can take me there on Saturday."

"You really want to go?"

"Sure, why not? I checked, and it's fifty dollars a couple and there's no pressure to do anything. And the price includes soft drinks, and that's all they serve, so you won't have to be around booze."

"Just whips and chains."

"There's a body-piercing exhibition scheduled for Saturday. You're fifty-five years old. Don't you think it's about time you witnessed a body-piercing exhibition?"

"I don't know how I lasted this long without it."

"I tried on the leather outfit and I think it looks hot."

"I wouldn't be surprised."

"But it's the least bit tight. I found out it looks better if I don't wear anything under it."

"Be awfully warm," I said. "In this weather."

"Well, the club's probably air-conditioned, don't you think?"

"In a basement on Washington Street? I wouldn't count on it."

"So? If I sweat, I sweat." She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. "You don't mind a little sweat, do you?"

"No."

"I think I'll try that outfit on again," she said, "and you can tell me what you think."

She took my hand, drew me willingly to my feet. At the bedroom door she said, "You had a couple of messages. TJ wants you to beep him when you have a chance. But he didn't say it was urgent, so I suppose it can wait until morning, don't you think?"

"It'll have to," I said.

14

In the morning I beeped TJ and met him for breakfast across the street at the Morning Star. He was wearing the same shorts and cap, but in place of the vest he wore a denim shirt with the sleeves and collar removed and the three top buttons unbuttoned. I had already ordered and been served when he got there. He dropped into the seat opposite me and told the waiter he wanted a pair of cheeseburgers and a large order of well-done hash browns.

I said, "No french fries?"

"For breakfast?"

"Forgive me," I said. "I lost my head."

"Yeah, well, you lost it earlier, sendin' me up to the Bronx chasin' down shit happened three years ago. Neighborhoods I had to go, how you gonna find anybody remembers anything? Be like tryin' to find a needle in a crack house. An' if you did, why'd they want to talk about it?"

"Well, it was a long shot," I said, "but I thought it might be worth a try. I gather it was a waste of time."

"Who said, Fred? All I's sayin' is it be impossible. That don't mean I ain't done it."

"Oh?"

"Went all over the Bronx. Went places the trains don't go. You get off the train, then you has to take a bus." He shook his head at the wonder of it all. "Took a while, but I found folks used to know this Eldoniah. Thing is, that weren't the name they called him by."

"What did they call him?"

"Shy."

"Shy? He sounded about as retiring as a cobra."

"Well, he retirin' now, where he's at upstate. The way he be shy, see, the gang he run with, dudes'll look you right in the eye an' pull the trigger, shoot you while they smilin' at you."

"That's what I heard about Eldoniah."

"No, see, 'cause he too shy for that. That's why he's so happy the day he discovered cabdrivers. No need to be lookin' 'em in the eye, 'cause all you got to do is shoot 'em in the back of the head."

"And that's why they call him Shy."

"Din I just say that?"

"So as far as the street's concerned, he did those cabdrivers." He nodded. "The bust was righteous. But the white dude in the Yellow wasn't one of his."

"They told you that?"

"Didn't have to. The MO was all wrong." He grinned at my expression. "Well, don't that be how you'd say it? I gone be a detective, I might as well get down with the language. What Shy would do, he'd always call a cab from one of them livery services. An' he wouldn't drop it on Audubon Avenue where they found Cloonan, 'cause that be a Spanish neighborhood an' he likely to attract attention there. But just to make sure, I axed people who knew him."

"And they talked to you?"

"Story I told, I had the word from my mama that Eldoniah Mims was most likely my daddy. She just tol' me this right before she died, Clyde, so I was makin' it my business to see what I could find out about him."

"How old is Mims? I didn't think he was old enough to have been your father."

"He ain't, but none of the fools I talked to bothered to run the 'rithmetic. An' I guess Shy wasn't too shy, 'cause this one friend of his took me 'round an' introduced me to this kid and said we's evidently brothers. Kid was twelve years old an' meaner'n cat shit. I don't 'spect he'll live to be voting age, 'less they save his damn life by lockin' him up for the next six years." He grinned. "He glad to see me, though. Likes the idea that he's got an older brother. Someone to pull his coat, teach him the ways of the world."

"You'll be a good influence on him."