King of Swords

She scowled at him angrily now. Damn! Musta been conscious 'bout her weight too. One of them bitches ate when she had problems. He smiled, did the nice one all bitches with kids told him was sweet. Made her madder. She musta thought he was laughing at her.

This was going real wrong.

'What did you say your name was?'

'Officer Bentley.' He held out his badge. She took it from him.

'Badge says Detective.'

'Huh?'

'You ain't an Officer if you're a Detective.' She pointed at the shield.

'Oh, right, yeah, see I just got promoted. Still gettin' my head around the title.' He smiled, but he was nervous as a motherfucker, heart beating crazy voodoo all up in his chest.

Shaniqua?!F Janet hollered out over her shoulder. 'I need you up here a second.'

Cottdayum if Shaniqua wasn't a straight up Diamond. Tall, long legs, cafe with a little au kit in her complexion, short

}OI hair. Black jeans and a blouse tied in a knot over her bare flat middle.

Janet talked to Shaniqua in a whisper. The receptionist was listening in and kept on looking over at him, smiling more and more. Shaniqua was looking at him too, looking harder at his face.

Carmine started to sweat, hairline leaking and running to his jaw. Time to go, time to go, he thought, but he couldn't make himself move. Couldn't do nothing. The fuck was wrong with him. The fuck was wrong with this?

The receptionist looked straight at him squirming in his shitty wingtips and giggled.

T do somethin' to make you ha ha?' he said aggressively.

The receptionist was going to answer when hotass Shaniqua spoke to him, 'You after Risquee?'

'You know where she at?'

'You know a virgin called Mary?' Shaniqua answered. She had a deep voice, close to a man's imitating a woman.

'Tell me.'

'Pay me.'

'What?

'Pay me.' Shaniqua came up to him, hand out.

Damn!

'How I know we talkin' 'bout the same Risquee?'

'We are. Now pay me.'

OK, defuse. Cops paid snitches all the time.

'How much?'

'Two hundred.'

'Two hunnret} How 'bout I give you one}7 'How 'bout you kiss my black ass?'

'I know men pay good money to do just that.' Carmine smiled. She got angry. 'OK, OK. Be cool. I'll pay you.'

Carmine turned his back on her and took out his roll. Peeled off four fifties, turned back and held them up folded between his fingers.

302 1 'Tell me.'

'Uh-uh.' She held her hand out, rubbing her fingers together. 'You pay to play.'

'You a slot machine?' He handed her the money, which she took and passed to the receptionist. He noticed Janet had disappeared.

He looked for her in the salon. He saw her at the end, talking to a man sitting in a chair with a towel around his shoulders.

The man looked over in his direction, took off the towel, got out of the chair and started walking up.

The man was tall and black.

The man was a cop in uniform.

Shit!

'I help you, sir?' the cop said to Carmine.

'No, I was . . .'

'Impersonatin' a police officer?' the cop said. He was holding Carmine's badge. How the fuck did he get that?

Shit! He'd handed it to Janet.

'This is as phoney as a three-dollar bill. And you are under '

Carmine noticed the cop wasn't wearing his gun belt.

The cop reached out to grab him, but Carmine took a step back and pulled out his piece. The receptionist screamed.

'ID's fake. This ain't. Now back the fuck up!' He pointed the gun at the cop's chest.

The cop didn't move.

'I ain't playin'!' He cocked the gun, but his hand was shaking.

'Do like he says, Timothy!' Janet pleaded behind him.

The cop moved back a step.

'Hey — all the way!' Carmine said. The cop didn't look scared, but the bitches did. That turned him on a little.

'Toss me that ID.'

The cop flicked it at him.

The gold glint of the badge caught his eye.

Next thing he knew the cop had grabbed his gun arm and was twisting it like he wanted to snap it.

Carmine pulled the trigger.

The cop screamed loudly and fell flat on his back. There were screams all over the salon. The bitches got down on the ground.

There was blood on the floor and a hole in the cop's foot where the bullet had hit. The sole of his shoe looked like a dripping red rose, the leather splayed and twisted in a whorl, blood was pumping out of the hole in the middle.

The cop wasn't holding his foot though; he was shaking, going into convulsions.

Carmine grabbed the ID and ran out of the salon.

I 35

'You want to tell me what's behind the long face?' Sandra asked Max.

'Work,' he said.

'I figured that. You want to tell me about it?'

Max shook his head. It was the day after he and Joe had been to Ruth Cajuste's house. He hadn't stopped thinking about the way Neptune and Crystal's fingers were intertwined.

He'd heard the paramedics had had to use a saw to separate them.

They were sitting in Dino's off Flagler, a diner with tables outside and two long rows of wide booths with crimson leather seats inside. There were pictures and posters of Dean Martin through the ages on the wall, from young drunk to old drunk, comedian to cowboy to crooner, and a working Wurlitzer jukebox filled with his records.