The Malfeasance Occasional, Page 6

  After abandoning Bobby’s clothes, Jess got a little dizzy as she went out to the street again. She hadn’t had a bout of morning sickness until this very morning, and she put this new complication down to nerves. She was vulnerable in new ways since she’d become pregnant. Sounds were louder, tastes sharper, and smells were overwhelming. She knew exactly when the people who lived down the hall lit up a joint, or what all the neighbors were having for dinner on any given night. Walking on a crowded street was starting to get difficult for her. She caught the scent of souring perfumes and exhaled smoke, mingled with notes of urine. She was fervently glad it was winter, and she didn’t know how she would survive spring in this state.

  It was a bitterly cold day, and at Union Square, Jess went into the big bookstore at the north end and headed up the escalator and into the children’s section. She ran her hands over the shiny, colorful books, the impulse to pop a couple into her bag almost irresistible.

  A counselor at the group home Jess had lived in when she was sixteen had told her that she took things to get back at the world, that it was a form of revenge. Jess had always thought that particularly stupid. What were things to her? She’d had to up and leave everything she owned behind more times than she could count. No, that wasn’t true, she probably could count them. The first time was when her grandmother tossed her over the Atlantic, sending her into the care of a cousin in Rochester. She’d run away from that hellhole four times before she’d been put into a group home. That place was almost as bad as the cousin’s, and she’d run away again. That was when she’d met Bobby, and when things had started looking up.

  And soon baby would make three, Jess thought. While she waited for Bobby to call she picked through some pregnancy books, which thrilled and terrified her. There were so many things to be wary of, things she’d never dreamed would hurt a baby. Fresh vegetables, for instance. Who would have thought of them as anything but healthy? But no, a bit of contaminated spinach or lettuce could kill the child. Jess had made Bobby swear to clean up his act when she found out she was pregnant. No more cigarettes, booze, and Chinese takeout. No shouting, not even at the television, not even if the Rangers were down in the third period. He hadn’t liked it, not one bit, and he’d made a terrible joke about her getting rid of the baby that had upset Jess for a week before he finally convinced her he hadn’t meant it, not really. “Stupid baby barnacle,” he’d muttered, but he’d smiled when he’d said it.

  But she hadn’t said a word to him about his questionable business activities. Money had to come from somewhere, after all. But now she was getting frantic. Where was he, and why hadn’t he called? Surely he wouldn’t have been foolish enough to go home, not when she’d warned him about the police? In the back of her mind was the ugly, nagging suspicion that maybe that body in the car could be.… No! Don’t think like that. Believe in Bobby. He’s fine. He has to be.

  She wandered by the café on the third floor. Look at that, she thought, seeing a man get up, leaving his cell phone on the table. By the time he came back a moment later, it was gone. Jess didn’t want to tie up her own phone and run down the battery in case Bobby called, but she needed to talk to the people he knew. Up on the quiet fourth floor of the store, she made call after call. Nobody knew where he was, or so they claimed. Finally she ran out of numbers. She deleted the calls she’d made from the phone’s log, then took the escalator down. “Someone must have dropped this,” she told the clerk at the customer service desk, handing over the phone.

  She left the store, facing the cold wind cutting across Union Square and found a health-food store on its eastern edge. She bought a protein bar and circled the park as she ate it, passing Gandhi’s statue twice as she thought of whether she was supposed to dump the gun. She walked west, through the comparatively empty cross-streets of Chelsea. Here, she thought, she could take a chance and slip it into a concrete planter. Someone would find the gun and take it home, wouldn’t they?

  In desperation, Jess walked further west to the Hudson River. Bobby knew a lot of people who worked over there, shifty-eyed fences and swift-handed grifters, but no one she talked to had seen him. She could have wept with frustration. She was cold, she was hungry, and she needed to go to the bathroom for the tenth time that day. How much longer was she going to have to wander around the city? A fine thing this was to do to the mother of your unborn child, she wanted to tell Bobby. Make her run around like a rat in a maze until she dropped. Anger was better than fear, which had started to take hold of her mind. Where the hell was he? Tears squeezed out of the corners of her eyes but she told herself that it was because of the bitter wind.

  The temperature had dropped several degrees, and the night chill hurried her along the streets. It was a Monday, and she wasn’t sure if it was the cold that kept people in, or if it was just too early in the evening for much to be going on. She walked along Delancey Street to the mouth of the Williamsburg Bridge, looking for a burned-up car or chalked-up pavement, but the police must have carted the crime scene away. Where else was there to look? Bobby liked to hang out on the Lower East Side, but she doubted she’d find him wandering its streets that night. He was in hiding, he had to be, that much was clear to her now. Still, she paced block after block, taking in the old synagogue and the new glass hotel and everything in between. At Suffolk Street she stopped dead. Gates of Hell read a scarlet neon sign a couple of blocks down.

  Jess had never been to the club, but she knew about it. Bernardo Diaz, an old pal of Bobby’s, owned it. But Bobby didn’t like Jess going to clubs with him—he got jealous when other men eyed her—so she’d never been inside, even though Bernardo called her every week, asking her to come in. Now, she was drawn to it, as if by a magnet. She walked along Suffolk until she was standing under the neon sign. There were gargoyles peering down at her, eyes bulging and tongues lolling. They weren’t any harder on the eyes than Detective Roop had been, she decided, reaching for the handle on the door. It didn’t budge. She rapped at the opaque glass and stepped back. There was a rattle behind the door and it opened slightly.

  “We’re not opening tonight,” said a beautiful, wide-eyed blonde girl with a haughty expression. She was wearing a red headband with sequin-studded horns.

  “I’m Jess. Is Bernardo here? Or, by any chance, has Bobby Torres stopped by?”

  “Oh, are you one of Bobby’s cousins?” asked the horned girl. The mention of Bobby’s name made the girl smile and she opened the door wider. Jess could see that she was wearing a strapless red bodysuit, black fishnet stockings, and vertigo-inducing stilettos. It was almost like a Playboy bunny outfit except for the color and the wiry, barbed tail. “Come on in,” the woman said. “It’s so cold today.”

  Inside there were spotlights shining on murals of people roasting in cauldrons. The red velvet settees and gilded columns could have come from a Victorian brothel, and an undulating black bar snaked along one wall. “It was Bernardo’s idea, making the club look like hell—literally, I mean.” The blonde kept talking but all that stuck in Jess’s mind was Cousin? Bobby had a lot of cousins, but none with her name.

  “Why did you think I’m Bobby’s cousin?” she asked, unfastening her coat. She was too hot all of a sudden.

  “He has so many,” the blonde answered. “I’ve only met a few of them. But I remember him mentioning that his cousin Jess was staying with him a few weeks ago. You don’t look anything like him, you know.”

  Jess was speechless. Before she could find her tongue, a deep rasp of voice filled the room. “Jessamine.”

  Jess turned. The man standing there was Bobby’s height but older, with a swollen stomach spilling over his belt and a cigarette dangling from his lip. He was wearing a dark suit and a white shirt without a tie. His cologne was expensive, but it smelled to Jess as if he had spilled it on himself. She hoped the fresh wave of nausea would pass quickly.

  “Hello, Bernardo,” Jess answered. “How are you?”

  “Better, now that I get to see you, babe.�
�� He moved toward her, pulling her into and hug and kissing her on each cheek. “Beautiful, just beautiful, as always.” Jess wasn’t certain what she found more sickening: the smell of him or the way he rubbed up against her every time she saw him. Fortunately, those occasions were rare.

  “You have my money, boss?” the blonde interrupted.

  “Don’t show up here looking for an extra shift again, Lita,” he answered, handing the woman some crumpled bills.

  The woman’s horns seemed to droop. “But Bobby said…”

  “Screw Bobby. You’re not going to be seeing him around here anymore. You do what I tell you.”

  “Sorry,” Lita said meekly.

  “Now get out,” said Bernardo.

  Lita walked behind the bar and grabbed a silvery coat. She put it on and tied the belt. The barb of her tail drooped just below the hem. “Okay,” said Lita. She glanced at Jess. “Sorry, I meant to get you a drink. We do a really great cocktail we call the Hellfire…”

  It was on the tip of Jess’s lip to say that she was pregnant, but Bernardo spoke first. “You need me to tell you twice?”

  “Thanks anyway,” said Jess.

  Lita nodded at her, walked to the front door, and let it slam behind her.

  Bernardo moved towards her. His nose was thick with scar tissue, like a boxer’s. His cheeks were pitted with acne scars and his eyes were hooded. “I’m kind of surprised to see you here tonight, Jessamine,” he said, drawing out each syllable of her name as if he were tasting it. It was just one of the many reasons he made her flesh crawl. “What with everything going on.”

  “What, the dead body and the car?” Jess demanded. “I have a few questions for you about that.”

  Bernardo dropped his cigarette on the floor and crushed it, immediately pulling a gold case and lighter out of his pocket and lighting up again. His flabby jaw was tense. “Bobby’s left us in a tight spot.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Bernardo’s eyes flicked up at hers, then back down to her breasts. The wraparound dress gaped wide over the valley of her cleavage. “How about that drink?” he said suddenly, licking his lips. He went behind the bar and pulled out a bottle and two glasses. “You like scotch?” He poured some scotch into the glass and knocked it back like a shot.

  “Not so much,” said Jess. “Do you have any orange juice?” She shuddered at what the wafting smoke would do to her unborn child, but she forced herself to step closer to Bernardo and plant herself on a cushioned red barstool so that her chest was right under his nose. Bernardo got a carton of orange juice from a fridge beneath the bar and poured it for her. He smiled as he put the glass in front of her. His teeth were movie-star white and even. On a plain man, they would have enhanced his appearance, Jess thought, but on someone as troll-like as Bernardo, they highlighted his hideousness.

  “You always look so good, Jessamine,” he said while she took a sip.

  “Thanks,” she muttered, thinking Yuck.

  “The fact you showed up here.…” Bernardo was studying her face instead of her cleavage for once.

  “What is it?”

  “I told Bobby a while back you should come work at the club. Not work the floor like the other girls, but in the office with me, maybe. You like the place?”

  Jess looked around, taking in every tawdry detail. It was clear that Bernardo had poured plenty of time, money, and effort into it, and painfully obvious that the man had no taste.

  “It’s like nothing else on Earth.”

  “Pure class,” said Bernardo, removing the cigarette from his mouth only long enough to take another belt of scotch, then dragging hard again. “You should come work for me. You’d fit in here perfect.”

  “I don’t think so.” Work for a leering Bernardo? She was ready to throw up again.

  “Well, you’re going to need some kind of job now,” he said.

  Jess stared at him.

  “With Bobby being gone, I mean.”

  Gone. The word hit Jess like a punch in the stomach. She fought to keep herself steady.

  “Gone where?” she hissed.

  Bernardo’s eyes narrowed. “Down to Mexico.”

  You lying piece of trash, Jess wanted to say. But her mouth was dry. Bernardo’s soulless black eyes were staring into hers now.

  “Mexico’s what he said, but who knows? He wanted to make a fresh start. Said he had too many problems. Told me I had to take care of you for him. Said he figured I’d been angling for that job for a while.”

  He picked up her hand and she recoiled. There’s a gun in my purse, she reminded herself. I can use that if I need to.

  “Keep your hands off me.”

  “You’re gonna change your tune real soon.” There was triumph in Bernardo’s eyes, satisfaction and something greedy staring back at her. “I like your accent. That whole Irish thing is so sexy.” She hadn’t even noticed her voice betraying her. He looked her over as if he were assigning a price on her. “Can I ask you something? You’re Catholic, right? Bobby told me he was the only guy you’ve ever been with. That true?”

  “Yes,” she said. “To both questions.” She’d told Bobby that a long time ago. It wasn’t as if she’d chosen anyone else before him. Her older cousin, the group home, well, that was just survival,

  Bernardo smiled. “You’re the old-fashioned type, aren’t you? Most girls these days don’t have much in the way of morals.” He took another belt of scotch and lit another cigarette. “But I think you’re also a smart girl. Sometimes it’s time to move on.”

  “Move on?” said Jess, in a crackling whisper. She swallowed hard. “Could I use your bathroom?”

  “You’re not thinking about walking outta here, are you? We got a few things to get straight, now that Bobby’s out of the picture.” Bernardo’s voice was hard.

  She couldn’t say a word as she stood. Her legs were shaky as she stepped across the floor, unsure where she was going

  “It’s that way,” Bernardo called. In a mirror, she saw him pointing to a dark corridor.

  Jess pushed the door open with her shoulder. The bathroom was lit with a red light, giving it an otherworldly glow. She looked at herself in the mirror over the sink.

  She knew without hearing the words that Bobby was dead and that Bernardo had killed him. This story he’d cooked up about Bobby needing to get away from New York was a pathetic lie. Bernardo had drooled over her every time she encountered him. He’d even sent her flowers. He killed Bobby because of me, Jess thought suddenly. Bernardo is so evil, he thought he’d get rid of Bobby and that I’d fall into his lap. The thought of sleeping with a sweaty, shifty Bernardo at any time repulsed her, but now that she realized what he’d done to Bobby, she was filled with rage.

  Then she remembered the gun.

  She opened up her black bag and—not worrying about gloves this time—took the gun out from under the false bottom. It was loaded. She cocked it and visualized shooting Bernardo’s brains out of his skull. He deserved a slow, torturous death that would take days, but swift justice was all she’d be able to obtain for Bobby now. A wave of nausea hit her and she pressed her head against the cold tile of the wall.

  What will happen to the baby? she wondered. Could she get away and make some kind of new life for them both? She felt a terrible sorrow for the child in her womb, knowing it would grow up now without a father. Jess started to sob. She’d lost her parents early on; at least she’d had her grandmother, for a time, but when Nana had gotten sick and shipped her over the Atlantic, Jess had been cast adrift. She had no family to hold to, except for a cousin who’d wanted to use and abuse her. If she went to jail, her child would be taken away from her and would grow up in foster care. She stood there, gasping, trying to weigh the options. Run away and keep her child safe? Or exact justice for Bobby? She’d just made up her mind when she heard a shot.

  For a split second, she thought it had come from her own gun, but the revolver rested quietly in her hand while a man screamed out. S
he cracked the door open and heard a voice. Bobby? It didn’t seem possible. Jess opened the door and crept along the dark hallway.

  “I know you’ve got money stashed somewhere, and unless you tell me where it is, you’re going to look like a piece of Swiss cheese.”

  That was Bobby. Her heart pounded in disbelief.

  “You bastard,” Bernardo said. “I paid you everything I owed you. You told me you were leaving town. Then you killed Eduardo and left him in your car. Why?”

  Jess shivered. The stained clothes she’d smuggled out of the apartment and abandoned at Goodwill had Eduardo’s blood on them? What had that boy done to Bobby?

  “There’s no other way the police would believe I’m dead,” Bobby said. “But, you know what? A new life—and a new identity—costs money. Even in Mexico. And when I started counting up what I got, I saw it wasn’t enough. So I need your rainy-day fund now, buddy. Tell me where it is, or your other leg gets a bullet, too.”

  “Drop dead,” Bernardo said. “I can’t believe I was so stupid. You telling me you were done with Jess, how you even hated the sound of her voice now. How you wanted me to have her ‘cause I’d take good care of her. I never should’ve believed you. Bastard, you know I been in love with her since I first laid eyes on her. I’m so stupid, I believed she came here tonight ‘cause she was looking for you. I should’ve known you sent her in here to distract me.”

  “What the hell? The Barnacle was here? When?” Bobby sounded rattled.

  “Like you don’t know.”

  “I’m right here, Bobby!” Jess called, her voice trilling with excitement as she rounded the corner. Bobby was as handsome as ever, but his eyes were round with shock. He was standing over Bernardo, .38 in hand, while Bernardo sat on the ground, holding one leg, grimacing in pain.