EIGHT

The Wolf, the Badger,and the Old Woman

Old woman, I hate too much.

I must give it vent.

Old woman you are hiding

here inside your tent.

Old woman, how much more

will I have to repent?

Old woman will I have left a mark

When my days are spent?

"BLACKENED PAGE"

"Mike!"

At the shout, Stepovich jerked awake. Reflexes rolled him off the couch and onto his feet as he scrabbled for a gun that wasn't there; shoelaces tied together brought him down just as swiftly. He caught himself painfully on one elbow, managed to avoid hitting the coffee table more than a glancing blow.

"You son of a bitch," he said with great feeling.

Ed laughed. "Works every time," he observed cheerfully, even though it was at least four years since he had pulled the same stunt. He turned his back on Stepovich and headed for the apartment's tiny kitchen. "'You want coffee?" he called back over his shoulder.

"That dead bolt cost me fifteen dollars. If you've screwed it up, I'm gonna feed it to you."

"Me?" Ed stuck his head back around the corner."Thing wasn't even shot, Stepovich. Door wasn't locked. I just waltzed right in."

"Uar," Stepovich muttered, working at his knotted laces. He'd never been able to figure out how Ed did it. The man was overweight and clumsy as an ox,but there wasn't a lock he couldn't slip, and Stepovich couldn't count how many times in the years of their partnership that Ed had taken him unawares. When he was a rookie, Ed had almost convinced him that he,Stepovich, just wasn't alert enough to be a good cop. It had taken him a long time to realize that the big man could walk softer than a cat, and could take damn near anyone by surprise. Grabbing cat burglars from behind had been one of his favorite tricks, once upon a time.

Stepovich retied his shoes and got up to make his way into the kitchen. Ed had half the stuff out of his cupboard stacked on the floor. "Where in hell are the coffee beans?" he demanded as Stepovich came around the comer. Sneaky bastard didn't even bother to turn and look at him. Just knew he was there.

"Don't have any." Stepovich reached up to the shelf over the stove, took down a jar of instant. "Coffee's right here."

"That shit?" Ed stepped casually away from the mess he'd made. "Let's skip it, then. We can grab some on the way." He glanced back once at the packages and cans he'd rummaged through. "Pretty sorry haul, Mike. Nothing there I'd feed the neighbor's cat. When's the last time you went shopping, anyway?"

"Don't go shopping, I just pick up what I need for the day on my way home from work. Where we going? And what the hell time is it?"

"Just about midnight. Witching hour. Best time for witches, vampires and gypsy fortune tellers. But, hey,Mike, this is no way to live. Coffee is not something to take casually. You've seen how I do it, little hand grinder, drip pot, and keep those beans in the frig until you're ready."

"Where we going?" Stepovich repeated wearily. Midnight. Shit. He had to work tomorrow. Maybe Ed had been retired long enough that he'd forgotten what it was like to drag his ass out of bed at six in the morning. Look at him. Eyes bright, hair combed,black bomber jacket that could no way meet over his gut anymore. Looked like a teenager going out cruising. Same stupid shitty grin when he finally met Stepovich's eyes and answered.

"Where we going? We're going to get fortunes told,sweet baby mine. Madam Moria sees all, and I've got her primed to tell all. Let's go."

He tossed Stepovich's jacket at him and the flying sleeve stung his face. Ed was humming "Captain of the Pinafore" as Stepovich followed him out the door. Despite himself, Stepovich felt a small quickening of pulse. Gilbert and Sullivan had always been Ed's hunting tunes. Quick, Watson, the game's afoot and all that.

They were into the Cadillac before Stepovich remembered to say, "But Ed, I told you the thing with the Gypsy was all done and it turned out to be nothing after all."

"Bullshit," Ed said kindly, and slammed his door so hard that Stepovich's ears popped. The engine started with a roar, then Ed eased it back to a purr-like a big cat's. It slipped into gear with a barely perceptible whump! and prowled off down the street.

Stepovich heaved a sigh, and then sniffed curiously. Sniffed again. "Smells like a delicatessen inhere. You got a pizza in back or something?"

"Naw." Ed cleared his throat. "It's the cheese." A little further down the street he added, "In the mousetraps, you know. I mean, I hate to kill the little… buggers that way, but I tried everything else. I even stole my neighbor's tomcat and locked him up in the garage with the car one night. I left the trunk and all the doors open. Even the hood. I figured he'd get hungry and nail that mouse for me."

"Didn't work, huh?" Stepovich asked idly.

"No. Bastard got in the trunk all right. Sprayed all over the place!" Ed sounded righteously outraged.

"Ah." Stepovich tried to sound commiserating and couldn't. He couldn't hold back his snickering either."That's what I'm smelling then. Cheese and cat cum.Thought it might be some wow new aftershave you were using. Well, guess the cat knew a pimpmobile when he saw one."

"Shithead," Ed growled. "Work my ass off for you,and you make fun of my car. Nice guy,"

"What are friends for? Now, truthfully, what's with the Gypsy thing? I mean, for real, that's all done and closed. I should be at home, resting up for another day of protecting and serving the public."

They drove in silence. Traffic was down this time of night, and the store fronts were dark. North of Roosevelt. He hadn't patrolled in this area at night in years; it looked the same as it did then. He tried to avoid Little Philly when he wasn't working; he got enough of it during his shifts.

Traces of snow in the less trafficked areas. Only the garish lights of neon tavern signs and stoplights flickered over them in bars and splashes amidst the pale wash of the street lamps. West on Carradine, now.The streets were black with a layer of white from the earlier snowfall.

"You think I'm getting old," Ed said suddenly, softly.

Stepovich was startled. "What? No, man, nothing like that, it's just that this thing is done, and…"

"You're a sorry liar, Mike. Always have been, always will be. Your voice gets too sincere; it's a dead giveaway." A quick stab from Ed's dark eyes sank into Stepovich, gave him a tight pain somewhere in his sternum.

"Yeah." He admitted two stoplights later. "I'm lying. I'm still digging at it. But I wanted you clear, not because you're old, but because this could get real messy." He looked over at Ed, demanding he meet his eyes. "Messy enough to screw up your pension."

"Oh, yeah?" Ed turned a corner, slowed as he chose a parking spot for the Cadillac. He cut the engine, turned to Mike an indecipherable smile. "Well,fuck 'em if they can't take a joke." He stretched in his seat, rolled his big shoulders to crackle them loose."Now," he said, his voice changing entirely, becoming businesslike and instructive. "Here's the setup,and it's taken me two days and seventy-eight dollars,so keep that in mind and don't blow it. I'll go up with you, but you gotta act like you been in on this all along. Here's how it goes. I got Madam Moria's name from my little friend."

"Little friend," Stepovich snorted to himself."Your little friend must be getting old by now." He'd never been able to discover the identity of that particular snitch.

"Never mind that. He turned me on to his fortune-teller. Honest to god gypsy from what my little friend says, and one with a lot of ties to the community, or whatever you want to call the gypsies that pass through here. Anyway. Madam Moria's got an upstairs apartment over that sleazy music store we kept busting for selling hot instruments. Apartment C. I went there to get my fortune told. Gave her ten bucks,and she sat me down in a little back room. Candles,scarves, incense, crystal ball, the whole bit. She gave me a standard spiel, and then started feeling me out for more. So I gave her another ten for a more complete reading, and told her confidentially that I was considering investing my savings in a friend's business, but didn't know it if was a good move. Said that several of my little ventures lately hadn't gone as well as I'd hoped."