"Pansy, out!" I yelled at her. She sat back down, her head swiveling to watch the entire room.

Mama clapped her hands. "Good trick, Burke!" she said. The cook went back upstairs. I rolled the pot of steaming food over to Pansy. "What's in this?" I asked her.

Mama looked insulted. "Beef, pork, lobster, shrimp, good vegetables, plenty rice. All best stuff."

"She'll love it," I assured Mama.

"How come she not eat, then?"

"She'll only eat when she's alone with me, Mama. Let me get her started and I'll come up and make those calls, okay?"

"Okay, Burke," she said.

I waited a minute or two before saying "Speak!" to my dog. A good survivor never shares all his secrets.

85

THE FIRST call was to SAFE. Lily was in a session-they asked if I could leave a number. I told them I couldn't and got a time to call back. They didn't seem surprised.

I got lucky with McGowan-he was in his office for a change.

"You know my voice?" I asked him.

"Sure do, pal." McGowan had a magnificent Irish baritone-he used it for sweet-talking little girls away from their pimps.

"I need a favor. You know Wolfe, the D.A. in charge of City-Wide?"

"Pal, that woman is aces with me, understand? Cases the other prosecutors won't touch-she grabs ' em up. You better not be having a problem with her."

"No problem. I just want you to put in a good word for me, okay? I need to talk with her-I figure she might do it if she knew I was all right."

"My friend, you are not all right if you're looking to sting that woman.

"McGowan, come on. You know what I do-it's part of that, okay?"

"What part?"

I took a breath, thinking it through. McGowan knew his phones could be tapped-he had every honest cop's fear of Internal Affairs.

"Look, all I want is for you to tell her I play the game straight. I'll tell her what I need-she can make up her own mind."

Another silence on the line. Finally his voice came back. "You got it," he said.

I started to ask him to do it tomorrow, but I was talking to a dead line.

Strega answered her phone on the first ring. "I was waiting for you," she said, her voice soft.

"How could you know it was me calling?"

"I know," she said. "I told you before-I always know."

"There's been some progress.

"Tell me," she said, her voice going throaty, playing with the words, stroking them.

"Not on the phone," I said.

"I know what you want-come to my house-come tonight-late, after midnight-come tonight-I'll have what you want."

"I just wantand I was talking into another dead line.

I went back inside the restaurant, killing some time until Lily would be available. One of the waiters brought me some soup and a plate of fried rice and beef, green pea pods lancing through the mixture. Mama walked by, smiling. She tossed the News on the table in front of me. I scanned the headlines. Half of Queens County was getting indicted. Politicians were grabbing their lawyers in one hand and their guts in the other and dashing to the courthouse, offering everyone they knew in exchange for immunity from the deals they'd done together. That's why they call it the rat race.

The sports pages read like the front pages-one role model was using cocaine, another was going into an alcoholism rehab program. Another claimed he threw a prize fight.

But on the racing page I saw my horse again. Flower Jewel, running in the eighth race against the same collection she had faced last week. I checked my watch-not even nine-thirty yet.

Maurice didn't answer until the sixth ring-probably a lot of late action coming in.

"It's Burke," I told him.

"No kidding?" he said. Maurice didn't have the manners of a pig, but he was taking lessons and hoped to be right up there soon.

"The eighth closed yet?"

"Not until ten-where've you been, fucking Idaho?"

"Flower Jewel," I told him. "Three to win."

"Flower Jewel, eighth race. Three to win. That right?"

"Right," I said.

"Send your man around tomorrow with the money," Maurice said, slamming down the phone.

I went back to my dinner, wondering if even Pansy could eat all the food Mama had left down in the basement for her.

I lit a cigarette as the dishes were cleared away. Flood's face drifted up from nowhere, floating in the smoke-I ground it out in the ashtray, but it didn't help.

Lily herself answered when I called SAFE.

"It's Burke," I told her. "Did you speak with Wolfe?"

"Yes, I did."

"And?"

"And she gave me a number for you to call-anytime between eight and nine in the morning."

"She'll talk to me?"

"She just gave me the number to give to you."

I hadn't expected Lily to get over with Wolfe so easily-McGowan had been my backup plan. If he did get around to calling tomorrow, it wouldn't hurt. I sure as hell wasn't going to call him back and tell him to forget it-he'd be sure I was up to no good.

"Okay," I said. "The kid's been coming for treatment?"

"Right on time. But his mother doesn't want to be involved."

"The redhead?"

"Yes."

"She's not his mother."

"Oh. Will his mother?"

"I don't know. I'll see about it, okay?"

"Just so long as they keep bringing the child."

"I'll talk to his people. And thanks, Lily."

"Be careful," she said, hanging up.

I said goodbye to Mama and collected Pansy from the basement. She was still behind the barrier, but the steel container was as clean as if it had been washed. I could see her teethmarks on the rim.

Pansy was happy to be home, insisting on visiting the roof for old times' sake. I had a couple of hours before I had to meet Strega. I found a pro wrestling match on television and lay back on the couch to watch with Pansy. She growled in contentment-if she could have nailed B.T. it would have been a perfect day.

86

THE MOON's cold light never penetrated to the dark streets, but I felt it deep in my spine as I wheeled the Plymouth past the burnt-out buildings on Atlantic. The radio was talking about Marcos settling down in Hawaii. He split the Philippines a few weeks ago, traveling light-a couple of loyal subjects, and the gross national product of his entire country for the last dozen years. A major-league scumbag.

I cut the engine, letting the Plymouth coast around to the garage in back. The door was standing open. Only the BMW was there. I backed the Plymouth inside, found the button, and closed the door. Waiting in the darkness.

A door opened. I could see her back-lighted silhouette standing there, weaving slightly-a candle flame in a gentle breeze.

I climbed out of the Plymouth. When I looked up again, the doorway was empty. I went through the opening and saw her gently floating up the stairs. Her body was wrapped in some gauzy black fabric, blending into the shadows under her red hair. When I got to the top of the stairs, she was gone again.

No lights were on in the house. I found my way into her white living room and took off my coat. I took out a cigarette, scraped the wooden match into life. As I touched the tip of the cigarette to the flame, I heard her voice. "Me too," she whispered, floating into the dark room, bending her face forward to the flame. A lollipop stick of marijuana was in her mouth.

I held the light for her, watched her puff to get the joint going and then suck in a massive breath. She floated away from me to the couch-the tip of the joint was a glowing pinpoint in the dark room.

"You having a séance?" I asked her.

"You afraid of the dark?" she retorted.

"I'm afraid of a lot of things," I told her.

"I know," she said, dragging on the joint again, holding her breath, expelling it in a hiss.