talk, Willie, I’ll give you that much.’
Willie said nothing.
‘Some V.A. hospital called the Pussy Palace, huh?’ Wheelock asks. ‘Sounds like my kind of place. Where’d you read about it, Soldier of Fortune?’
The shadow of a woman, a dark shape in a darkening day, bends over the open case and drops something in. A gloved hand touches Willies glove hand and squeezes briefly. ‘God bless you.’ she says.
‘Thank you, ma’am.’
The shadow moves off. The little puffs of breath in Blind Willie’s ear do not.
‘You got something for me, pal?’ Wheelock asks.
Blind Willie reaches into his jacket pocket. He brings out the envelope and holds it out, jabbing the chilly, unseen air with it. It is snatched from his fingers as soon as Wheelock can track it down and get hold of it.
‘You asshole!’ There’s a touch of panic as well as anger in the cop’s voice. ‘How many times have I told you, palm it, palm it!’
Blind Willie says a lot more nothing - he is giving a sermon of silence this morning.
‘How much?’ Wheelock asks after a moment.
‘Three hundred.’ Blind Willie says. ‘Three hundred dollars, Officer Wheelock.’
This is greeted by a little thinking silence, but he takes a step back from Blind Willie, and the puffs of breath in his ear diffuse a little. Blind Willie is grateful for small favors.
‘That’s okay,’ Wheelock says at last. ‘This time. But a new year’s coming, pal, and your friend Jasper the Police-Smurf has a piece of land in upstate New York that he wants to build a little cabańa on. You understand? The price of poker is going up.’
Blind Willie says nothing, but he is listening very, very carefully now. If this were all, all would be well. But Wheeelock’s voice suggests it isn’t all.
‘Actually, the cabańa isn’t the important part,’ Wheelock goes on, confirming Blind Willie’s assessment of the situation. ‘The important thing is I need a little better compensation if I have to deal with a lowlife fuck like you.’ Genuine anger is creeping into his voice. ‘How you can do this every day - even at Christmas - man, I don’t know. People who beg, that’s one thing, but a guy like you … you’re no more blind than I am.’
Oh, you’re lots blinder than me, Blind Willie thinks, but still he holds his peace.
‘And you’re doing okay, aren’t you? Probably not as good as that PTL fuck they busted and sent to the callabozo, but you must clear what? A grand a day, this time a year? Two grand?’
He is way low, but Blind Willie does not, of course, correct him. The miscalculation is actually music to his ears. It means that his silent partner is not watching him too closely or frequently … not yet, anyway. But he doesn’t like the anger in Wheelock’s voice. Anger is like a wild card in a poker game.
‘And you’re no more blind than I am,’ Wheelock repeats. Apparently this is the part that really gets him. ‘Hey, pal, you know what? I ought to follow you some night when you get off work, you know? See what you do.’ He pauses. ‘Who you turn into.’
For a moment Blind Willie actually stops breathing … then he starts again.
‘You wouldn’t want to do that Officer Wheelock,’ he says.
I wouldn’t, huh? Why not, Willie? Why not? You lookin out for my welfare, is that it? Afraid I might kill the shitass who lays the golden turds? Hey, thirty six hundred a year ain’t all that much when you weigh it against a commendation, maybe a promotion.’ He pauses. When he speaks again, his voice has a dreamy quality which Willie finds especially alarming. ‘I could be in the Post. HERO COP BUSTS HEARTLESS SCAM ARTIST ON FIFTH AVENUE.’
‘You’d be in the Post all right, but there wouldn’t be any commendation,’ Blind Willie says. ‘No promotion, either. In fact, you’d be out on the street, Officer Wheelock, looking for a job. You could skip applying for one with the security companies, though - a man who’ll take a payoff
Willie said nothing.
‘Some V.A. hospital called the Pussy Palace, huh?’ Wheelock asks. ‘Sounds like my kind of place. Where’d you read about it, Soldier of Fortune?’
The shadow of a woman, a dark shape in a darkening day, bends over the open case and drops something in. A gloved hand touches Willies glove hand and squeezes briefly. ‘God bless you.’ she says.
‘Thank you, ma’am.’
The shadow moves off. The little puffs of breath in Blind Willie’s ear do not.
‘You got something for me, pal?’ Wheelock asks.
Blind Willie reaches into his jacket pocket. He brings out the envelope and holds it out, jabbing the chilly, unseen air with it. It is snatched from his fingers as soon as Wheelock can track it down and get hold of it.
‘You asshole!’ There’s a touch of panic as well as anger in the cop’s voice. ‘How many times have I told you, palm it, palm it!’
Blind Willie says a lot more nothing - he is giving a sermon of silence this morning.
‘How much?’ Wheelock asks after a moment.
‘Three hundred.’ Blind Willie says. ‘Three hundred dollars, Officer Wheelock.’
This is greeted by a little thinking silence, but he takes a step back from Blind Willie, and the puffs of breath in his ear diffuse a little. Blind Willie is grateful for small favors.
‘That’s okay,’ Wheelock says at last. ‘This time. But a new year’s coming, pal, and your friend Jasper the Police-Smurf has a piece of land in upstate New York that he wants to build a little cabańa on. You understand? The price of poker is going up.’
Blind Willie says nothing, but he is listening very, very carefully now. If this were all, all would be well. But Wheeelock’s voice suggests it isn’t all.
‘Actually, the cabańa isn’t the important part,’ Wheelock goes on, confirming Blind Willie’s assessment of the situation. ‘The important thing is I need a little better compensation if I have to deal with a lowlife fuck like you.’ Genuine anger is creeping into his voice. ‘How you can do this every day - even at Christmas - man, I don’t know. People who beg, that’s one thing, but a guy like you … you’re no more blind than I am.’
Oh, you’re lots blinder than me, Blind Willie thinks, but still he holds his peace.
‘And you’re doing okay, aren’t you? Probably not as good as that PTL fuck they busted and sent to the callabozo, but you must clear what? A grand a day, this time a year? Two grand?’
He is way low, but Blind Willie does not, of course, correct him. The miscalculation is actually music to his ears. It means that his silent partner is not watching him too closely or frequently … not yet, anyway. But he doesn’t like the anger in Wheelock’s voice. Anger is like a wild card in a poker game.
‘And you’re no more blind than I am,’ Wheelock repeats. Apparently this is the part that really gets him. ‘Hey, pal, you know what? I ought to follow you some night when you get off work, you know? See what you do.’ He pauses. ‘Who you turn into.’
For a moment Blind Willie actually stops breathing … then he starts again.
‘You wouldn’t want to do that Officer Wheelock,’ he says.
I wouldn’t, huh? Why not, Willie? Why not? You lookin out for my welfare, is that it? Afraid I might kill the shitass who lays the golden turds? Hey, thirty six hundred a year ain’t all that much when you weigh it against a commendation, maybe a promotion.’ He pauses. When he speaks again, his voice has a dreamy quality which Willie finds especially alarming. ‘I could be in the Post. HERO COP BUSTS HEARTLESS SCAM ARTIST ON FIFTH AVENUE.’
‘You’d be in the Post all right, but there wouldn’t be any commendation,’ Blind Willie says. ‘No promotion, either. In fact, you’d be out on the street, Officer Wheelock, looking for a job. You could skip applying for one with the security companies, though - a man who’ll take a payoff
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