Chasing a Blond Moon(141)
A young woman stepped out of the shadows and Service gave her the container. She took it and withdrew. She looked to be fourteen or fifteen, a child only in her face.
“Brought some stew,” Service told Limpy.
“Kind of you, sonny. More like yer old man every year.”
“This is Linsenman,” Service said.
“I know,” was all Allerdyce said.
Service smelled the stew warming. He had rehearsed several ways to open a conversation but concluded that his presence alone would signal Allerdyce that he was interested in talking. He would leave the old poacher to pick the subject and deliver whatever message he was hoarding.
The girl brought stew in bowls. She served Limpy first.
“Dis little piece is Lixie,” Allerdyce said. “Youse want some, help yourself. She’s a good one.”
One, a piece of property. “Good as Honeypat?” Service asked. The girl was just one more possession, Service thought. Was Honeypat different? Did greed and ownership require Limpy to be the one to share, and that it was not the property’s choice? Probably.
Limpy stared over at Service and glared. “Bring up dat name.”
Allerdyce sipped his stew, made a face, bellowed angrily, “Hotter, you bitch!” He held the bowl out, his hand shaking, the stew spilling onto the floor.
The girl sheepishly rescued the bowl and disappeared. When she brought it back Limpy took a spoonful and made a face. “Hotter, Goddammit! Hot, hot!” She took the bowl and the process was repeated. When she brought it back he sampled one spoonful, stopped chewing, and placed the bowl on the floor. The girl didn’t fetch it.
At least this kid was dressed, Service thought. He had always been offering Honeypat to visitors and now it was this young girl. If he’d offer Honeypat and this girl, why would he come down on Kelo?
Allerdyce stopped, looked over at the detective. “You make dis?”
Service nodded, tasted the stew, put the spoon back in and set the bowl on the floor, mimicking Allerdyce. Linsenman’s spoon was clicking busily against his bowl.
“Youse come out some day, teach Lixie to cook. She knows what ta do in da bed, hey, but her cookin’s bad. Never gets nothing hot but her pussy!”
Linsenman ate faster.
Service said nothing.
“Youse seen da mutts,” Allerdyce said.
“Beautiful animals,” Service said, his stomach immediately beginning to knot up.
“Rescued ’em,” Limpy said. “Got da fight in ’em—all scars and broke stuff, hey. Been beat, shot, kicked, cut, but you gotta kill one to stop it. Born ta be what dey are, hey. Don’t know nothin’ else. Born in dere blood, fight till youse can’t fight no more. One gets jumped, dey all fight. Like family’s s’posed ta.”
“Just like NATO,” Service said. He squinted to see better and caught the outline of a pile of books off to his left. He could read a couple of titles. Cookbooks. What was going on here? Books for the girl?
“Da town?” Allerdyce said.
Linsenman sniggered quietly. Nadeau was a village in Menominee County.
“Like the treaty organization in Europe,” Service said.
He had never seen Limpy eat so lightly; tonight he had barely touched his food. When he’d taken Limpy to McDonald’s, he had eaten one nugget, put the rest in his coat, and later he had seen him dig through a trash can. Something was definitely going on.
Allerdyce stared at him. “Youse know I’m not stupid, sonny,” he said. “Lixie,” he added. “Fetch da mutt.”
Service heard claws scraping the wooden floor. The girl emerged from the dark with a rope attached to a short-haired, low-slung dog with piles of loose skin, only one ear, and scars crisscrossing its fur. Some of them looked new. “Youse take ’im,” Limpy said. “Got no fight. It stays I got to put it down. Don’t earn da keep in da family, don’t get to keep da take, hey. Don’t want to waste lead.”
The animal did not look at Service or Linsenman. It watched only Limpy. Service took the rope from Lixie, let it hang slack, wishing it was longer. The animal didn’t cringe, it just stared at Allerdyce, who grinned and rubbed his whiskers.
“Youse don’t act like family, youse gotta go,” Allerdyce said. “Dat’s da law here.”
Lixie placed the empty plastic container in Service’s lap. It had not even been rinsed.
Limpy put his hands on his knees, tried to get to his feet, but couldn’t seem to manage it. Lixie held out her hand and helped haul him upright. He shuffled unsteadily on stiff legs to the door with his visitors, straining for breath, wheezing like he was exhausted.
“Good grub, sonny. Youse best be careful dem mutts out dere. Dey don’t much like dis one, ya know.”