02. The Shadow Dancers (30 page)

The only thing I could find was a pair of spike-heeled shoes, not the best for walkin', and the real tight slinky metallic blue dress that matched them that I'd worn to dinner. There was also a topless string bikini lodged in a side pocket that I'd missed, but somehow that didn't seem none too practical. Well, that dress was knee-length, real low cut, and had them slits in the side that left no doubt I wasn't wearin' nothin' under it, but at least it was legal. I also found a small compact, a lipstick, a wide-toothed comb, an emery board, and a small bottle of spray perfume.

That and the long golden pierced earrings I generally kept on was my sole worldly goods.

I got over to a clump of bushes and sat down to see about gettin' it on, and suddenly I felt an overwhelming urge and need to sleep. I knowed I'd been on the go a lot and needed it, but not now. It was the juice, of course, makin' me do what it decided I had to no matter what, and even though I fought it and didn't want to, the next thing I knew it was much later, and the bright sun that had been on my right comin' down was now on my left. I cussed and got up. Not havin' a watch there wasn't no way to tell the time, but the usual sleep was between eight and ten hours. If it was maybe eight when I conked out, it was probably 'bout five now. I looked out at the road and there was a fair amount of traffic goin' the opposite way, which checked out. I didn't know what day or month it was 'cept it was still warm; time didn't run at exactly the same rate in any of the worlds, so all I could know for sure was that it was summer here. Trouble was, I didn't even know the year. I'd been like ten months in Siegel's world, but how much time had passed here in the meantime? Might be a couple of years, and, then again, it might be only May or June here.

I was hungry and sure to get more so, but I didn't have no way to feed myself so that was one thing I had to push off. Wouldn't get no food or phone sittin' here, though, so I squeezed into the dress and, in spite of everything and I guess out of habit, took time to comb my hair, put on fresh lipstick, and a little makeup and even spray a little perfume on. Well, it weren't just vanity and habit; there was only one way I was gonna get fed and get where I was gonna go.

I stuck the shoes back in the bag, though. No use in breakin' my neck with them here.

There was no way to pick a direction, but I saw some road signs 'bout half a mile to my left so I made my way that way. Best to know where I was first. I had trouble readin' 'em when I got to 'em, but finally made out a sign sayin' state college 10. Well, they'd have phones there, but I didn't figure no big college town would be quick and easy pickin's for me, and it was the wrong way anyways. I crossed the road, struck a real sexy pose, and started hitchin'. I figured it might take four or five minutes tops, but it was even less than that. I didn't mind if I got a dirty old man, and any
would-be rapist would find they sure tangled with the wrong girl!

A little sweet-talkin', a nice little sob story in a high sexy voice, and a few moves will get you most anything if you don't have no standards or scruples. I got let off at a big truck stop out in the middle of nowhere, and I didn't have to be there long before I had more than enough offers to get food and even a little cash. Still, it was fairly late by the time I was able to make a phone call, and when I stood at the phone booth I suddenly realized I didn't know what to call. Bill Markham's number was another of those things burned into my mind, but I didn't dare call him unless I had to. He could stop my twin if she hadn't already done the deed and all that, but he'd also have people all over the place and I'd be off to the Center in no time "for my own good." My old number was no good; I'd disconnected it before leavin' and sublet the apartment, puttin' everything in storage.

I finally called Philadelphia information and asked for a Spade & Marlowe number. The agency was dead and gone, but not its client lists, and there might be a service or referral number. There was a number, but it was only a recordin' sayin' that Spade & Marlowe's cases had been transferred to the Marquand Agency and givin' their number. I tried them but nobody answered. I hadn't even thought about this angle. Maybe I had to call Markham anyways. I had one last thought, and that was if Sam had been back long enough to get a place and maybe get his own number, it would be listed. I checked, and, sure enough and to my complete surprise, they
did
have a listin' for a Samuel Horowitz. I called the number and it rang a few times, then got picked up.

"Hello?" come a woman's voice.
Her
voice.
My
voice. I stuck my voice up way high.

"Is Mistah Horowitz theah?" I asked pleasantly.

"No, I'm sorry, he's out of town," Brandy Two replied. "I'm his wife. Can I take a message?"

Like hell you is, honey!
"No, thanks. Will he be back soon?"

"Not for a couple of days."

"I'll call agin then. Bye," I responded, and hung up. So Sam was out of town-or maybe just plain out? She'd use
that if she'd already iced him, but then why would she still be there? To get Markham, too, maybe? Only way to find out was to get there.

It wasn't all that hard. You just sat there sweet as honey and then picked the fly you wanted to trap. I give him good value for his trouble, so we was both satisfied. I got dropped right near Broad and Market 'bout four-thirty in the mornin', and I had 'bout forty dollars on me at the time. Not a lot, but I walked over to Chestnut and got a room at the YWGA. Not that I wanted to, but it was gettin' on time.

I took my juice, had a good time, then slept until four that afternoon. I rarely ate meat, but I was able to find decent stuff at a health food store and carry out just up the street. I was down to seven bucks, which didn't worry me none, particularly in center city Philadelphia after dark. The only real worry I had was I was havin' trouble gettin' used to the cars bein' back over on the left side of the street again.

A good detective has no problem gettin' an address when she's got a phone number, even though it was too new to be in the book. The number turned put to be for a development up north of the city near Willow Grove, not exactly on the train routes. I caught a late train up as close as I could, then had to use my charms to get a big, black taxi driver to run me there for seven bucks. It turned out to be a bunch of fancy-lookin' duplexes on them little dead-end streets, but that was somethin' of a relief since I was afraid I'd be lookin' at some security apartment tower. The cabbie-Calvin his name was-refused my money and I promised I'd call him through his taxi company as soon as I was free. Maybe I would, too-he was real nice and real good-lookin'-but that was if I wasn't dead or somethin'.

I checked out the house. There was one light burnin' in the front room, but the shades was closed and I couldn't tell if anybody was in there. The rest of the place looked dark. There didn't seem to be no alarm system, but the doors had good bolt locks and the place was air-conditioned so the windows was closed, locked, and secure. Finally, I decided to see if things would go the easy way; I held the gun inside the shoulder bag pointin' at the door and rang the bell. I heard it go a number of times, real loud, but there was no reply. Suddenly the phone rang inside, and for a minute I
thought I'd tripped some alarm system, but after eight rings they gave up. There was nobody home, all right.

It took some doin' to get inside without crashin' no loud glass. I was a hell of an athlete by this time, though, and actually managed to jump up and grab hold of the gutter spout on the second floor and pull myself up, rippin' my dress mostly off in the process. Still, there on this little roof overhang, I was at an upstairs window. The lock was one of them simple throw type, so I put the pistol up against the glass right on the flat push part of the lock and fired. The shot was quiet as usual, and damned if the thing didn't turn about halfway and come mostly free. The hole was big enough for a finger, and I managed to tap it around enough and open the window and crawl in. I no sooner got in and shut it than I saw a back light come on, and then somebody come out of the backdoor of the other half of the buildin' and look around. They checked the whole area with a flashlight, includin' Sam's patio, and even shined a light up my way, but they didn't see nothin'.

There was two bedrooms and a bath upstairs. One of the bedrooms was just that; the other was storage and filled with the boxes and trunks I'd left when I stuck everything in storage. Most of my clothes and other stuff was in there, still packed, although
she
had obviously opened stuff and begun to sort it. I could see why she had problems with it; everything was way too big 'cept the shoes. My feet bones didn't shrink or tighten up with the rest of me. I dug out a big old extra long tee shirt that came down halfway to my knees and I used that lonely bikini bottom, even if it did have sparklies all in it. My credit cards and shit was all in safe deposit at Tri-State Bank, so there wasn't much more I could do.

I stuffed the remains of the dress in the shoulder bag, then went into the bathroom. I stuck the bag in behind some shit under the sink so it couldn't be easily seen, except for the juice capsules and the gun. Then I started lookin' for places to hide the juice, and found more, to my surprise. Not a lot-six capsules, hid in my old mink coat still in the trunk. But they was
her
supply. We sure did think alike. Trouble was, how to hide 'em so she wouldn't figure right off where they was. I decided to think like Sam. I had trouble findin'
somethin' that worked as a screwdriver, but then I unscrewed a floor plate for the air-conditionin' and stuck all but a couple in there. Those I stuck in a little kitchen baggie and stuck under a seat cushion in the livin' room. It was so obvious nobody'd think of lookin' for it.

The clocks said it was a little after ten. I didn't know anything else to do but sit and try and relax and wait. The kitchen was real basic and clearly not stocked up for any length of time even for one, and there wasn't nothin' in it fit for me to eat.

About ten-fifteen I heard a car drive up and stop, and somebody got out and walked up to the door. I retreated up the stairs as a key entered the lock. I didn't want to be seen till I knew the score and which one I was facin'. I decided I'd just keep quiet, lay low, and wait.

After a while of movin' in and out and packages rustlin', I heard footsteps come up the stairs and
she
came up and went into the bathroom. She was wearin' a sleeveless stretch-type pale pink top and a pair of real tight jeans with sandals. They all looked new, so I figured she'd been shoppin'. Either they staked her some or she'd made it as far as my deposit box.

I was in the dark bedroom, ready with the pistol if need be, but she flushed and come out and went down the hall to the other bedroom and switched on the light. I had a margin nearly to noon the next day before I needed a jolt, but maybe she didn't. I hoped not. I heard her give a little gasp; I guessed she'd noticed the neat hole in the window in there. In a sense, I was actually in her mind, and I didn't hav'ta see her to know what she was doin'. Hole, then check, open the window and look out, then check the walls and see where the bullet bouncin' off went. Her next thought would be to check for her juice stash, and I heard her pull the trunk around, open it, and start feelin' through the pockets of every coat in there and lookin' down the bottom, feelin' the linings to make sure it didn't drop down, then I heard her give a panicky sort of cry.

I crept down the hall and watched her, knowin' how I'd feel. Then she suddenly realized that somebody was there, turned, and froze. She saw the gun first, then me.

"Dey ain't dere,
sista,"
I told her. "Dey been moved far, far away."

"You!
How'd you even
get
here? What do you want with me?"

"I think you gots the smarts ta' figah dat out yo'self. You
gots
t'know at least what dis part's all 'bout."

She got slowly up and stared at me. "They-they said you'd never even
know!
And even if you did, no way you gonna leave without no juice!"

"I
gots
juice. All
God's
chillun gots juice. Dey keep makin' dese l'il eensy-weensy mistakes wit' dis chile. Go 'head. Tear dis place up. You won't find no juice. Uh, uh, not a drop. Don' worry, though. I gots it all hid nice'n safe. Lots 'n lots of it. Ol' Arnie, he had one
big
stash, and now I got it. Ol' Arnie, he don't need it no mo'. He deader than a cooked rat."

"Somebody sent you. Who?"

"Som'body do know the secret, but I dunno who. Ain't yo' gal Addison, though, even if she
did
pop Arnie two slugs wit' dis selfsame gun. Kills real
quick
'n
quiet."

"Are you gonna-kill me? There can't be two of us in this world."

"Well, dere is now. We goin' downstairs and den we gon' talk a bit 'bout a lotta things. Where we go from dere be up to you."

I was careful, and I had the experience with guns and with handlin' folks who didn't wanna be handled. I think she sensed that, and was also really thrown off by me bein' there at all, so she gave me no trouble. She also seemed to have completely bought the idea that I'd removed all the juice from the house. Hell,
I
kept fallin' for shit like that, so why shouldn't
she?

So we sat and we talked, and I got some more details on this setup. She swore she didn't know nothin' 'bout no plot when she was shadow dancin' down at Siegel's, and that she had no memories or recollections of her full self, as she called it, until she read that card. She never really doubted who she was, though, even then; it was the basic selfishness of the juice addict that kept her quiet and let me go away confused and broken. I understood; when somebody else held the juice you danced their way.

But she'd spent so much time with me, been so close all that time, she could do me nearly perfect. After that split-up, they flew her up to the lodge and this mysterious
Dr. Carlos for the final touches. The ultimate test, though, she still found unpleasant to talk about but it brought her to this point. They found one of the regular girls at the club, not the dancers but one of the ones who lived where Deb and I had, was givin' information on the sly to the cops. They brought her up to the lodge, and they gave the poor girl to her and then they withheld the juice.