A Cast of Killers

CHAPTER FIFTEEN



There was nothing to do but to wait, surrounded by the misery of the overcrowded emergency waiting room. It was nearly ten o'clock and they had been at the hospital for over five hours. Stubbornly, they still sat there, thinking of the young boy upstairs, old far beyond his years, without friends or family.

It was an assorted group that kept vigil. Each of them was determined not to budge for his or her own reasons. Auntie Lil wanted to keep an eye on Father Stebbins and, yes, she admitted it, Annie O'Day. Herbert stayed put in case Auntie Lil needed his services, but also because it would be unthinkable of him not to contribute what goodwill he could in such a sad situation. Adelle refused to budge, waiting out of curiosity and a desire to help. Her two followers would stay as long as Adelle. Fran waited because Father Stebbins had helped her so much in the past, and now he truly needed her. And Father Stebbins, well, he waited for reasons unknown to most of the others, overcome with guilt, fingering his rosary as he prayed over and over.

They were there for so long, hoping for more news of Timmy, that even the elderly couple had been administered to and the young boy with the basketball injury bandaged. Others had limped and coughed their way inside to take their place by the time Annie O'Day reappeared.

"He's going to be sleeping through the night," Annie told the group. "There's nothing more that we can do."

The cumulative effect of her words, their growing hunger and the increasingly crowded conditions in the waiting room finally convinced them all that it was time to move on.

"There's nothing you can do tonight," Fran repeated to a distraught Father Stebbins. "Let me make you a strong cup of tea before you go to bed. It will do you good."

The big priest rose numbly. "It's all my fault," he repeated. "I tried to do the right thing. He trusted me and look what I did to him." He shook his head and allowed himself to be guided by Fran toward the exit door. "Texas," he mumbled on his way out. "I should have called Texas. And damn the seal."

"Well, that's it for the Father," Adelle remarked crisply. "He's blathering on about Texas and seals." Her followers murmured in appreciation of her observation, but Auntie Lil was annoyed. She did not approve of witty remarks that were made at the expense of common sense. Of course he was blathering about seals, she thought to herself. The confessional seal. Not the kind that balanced balls on their noses.

Auntie Lil was suddenly very tired and hungry and ready to be away from this all. "I could use a cup of coffee myself," she announced abruptly.

"I could use a gallon," Annie added. She took Auntie Lil's arm as if to help her to the door but, in truth, it was Annie that needed the support. "I'm exhausted," the big woman admitted.

Auntie Lil patted her arm in reassurance. "You were magnificent tonight," she told her. "You saved the boy's life." Annie nodded weakly, and Auntie Lil was alarmed at her sudden lack of vigor. Perhaps she, too, had not eaten all day. "Let's stop by the deli for a bite," Auntie Lil decided for them both. "If I know you, you're planning to go by the police station and see Bob. You can't do that without proper nourishment."

"Coffee?" Adelle said scornfully, a bit miffed at being left out. "I believe a good stiff drink is in order." She looked hopefully around at her followers and settled her gaze on Herbert Wong. Her entire face rearranged itself: eyes widened, her eyebrows rose and her lips pursed in an inviting smile. She looked as if she were preparing for a screen test. "Herbert," she cooed prettily, "regrettably, it appears as if our adventure is at an end. What say we toast to auld lang syne before resuming our humdrum lives?" She placed a tentative hand on his arm and cocked her eyebrows higher. "We really should raise a toast to Eva’s dear memory."

Herbert's face brightened. He was not averse to either drinks or escorting three lovely ladies. Nonetheless, he glanced at Auntie Lil first.

"Go on, I don't mind a bit," Auntie Lil told him with exaggerated dignity. Mustering an air of superiority, she declared, "I don't feel the need to depend on alcohol at the moment, anyway."

Herbert bowed politely to Lillian, then escorted Adelle and her followers out the door.

"Wait until he finds out he has to pay," Auntie Lil muttered under her breath.

"We could join them," Annie offered, but her heart wasn't in it.

"No. You need something hot," Auntie Lil decided. "And so do I." They negotiated their way around a tramp who had made his home across the entrance ramp, then turned south on Ninth Avenue. Behind them, heading north, Herbert and the elderly actresses chatted together eagerly. Adelle laughed loudly at something Herbert said; Auntie Lil gritted her teeth and ignored them.

"Look—there's Fran and Father Stebbins." Annie pointed out two figures half a block ahead of them, making their way down the darkened sidewalk, heads bent low together as they talked.

"I'd give anything to know what's going on with those two," Auntie Lil remarked wistfully. "It seems I haven't cracked a single secret yet."

"Let's slow down and follow them," Annie suggested. "Maybe we'll learn something along the way." They matched their pace to the couple ahead of them.

Thus, a strange parade formed. At the front ambled a distraught Father Stebbins and a preoccupied Fran. They walked, unseeing, past busy stores and crowded restaurants, their minds focused on distant problems. Behind them, Annie and Auntie Lil walked slowly. They were all too distraught or so busy scrutinizing their own prey that they failed to notice those who, in turn, were watching them.


"She's going up to his room," Annie predicted. They stood across the street, watching in the shadows, as Father Stebbins fumbled with the key to the massive padlock that secured the front gate. Fran waited quietly, as if she knew the routine. The pair disappeared inside the church and a series of lights flickering on charted their progress to the upstairs back room. Annie was right. But what did it prove?

"I don't think waiting here any longer will do us much good," Auntie Lil decided reluctantly. "Besides, I'm getting a chill. I'm sorry I didn't bring that nice shawl I bought in Devonshire last year."

"Coffee, then," Annie said. "Good and hot." They headed for the cheerily lit windows of the Delicious Deli. They could see Billy inside, busily wiping down the counter and arranging the desserts in preparation for the after-theater crowd. Auntie Lil and Annie were his only customers. He looked up briefly, spotted the blood on Annie's sweat shirt and did a double take. Adding Auntie Lil into the equation called for yet a third look at them.

"That your blood or her blood?" he asked evenly, nodding at the mess.

"I've got to get home and change," Annie admitted. "Someone beat up a street kid, Timmy. The one that ran with Little Pete. Know him?"

Not a muscle twitched, not an eyelid flickered. The proprietor's face was perfectly still. Finally he shrugged and gave a heavy sigh. "Yeah, I know him. He was just a boy. A kind of well-educated boy, if you know what I mean, but it doesn't seem quite fair that an adult would beat him up like that."

"She didn't say an adult beat him up," Auntie Lil said sharply. There was a silence and they looked at one another.

"I just assumed," Billy said evenly. He pointed to Annie's sweat shirt. "Looks like he took it pretty bad. I figured the other guy had to be bigger."

Either Billy had known the beating was coming or he had grown so weary of the neighborhood's sad lessons that he was adopting a fatalistic calm in response.

"Can I get a black coffee and a hero?" Annie asked. She laid her head briefly on the upper counter. "And no cracks about Bob, please. He didn't do what they said in the papers and I'm tired of people thinking he did."

Billy looked away quickly and filled her cup without comment. He turned to Auntie Lil as a sudden thought struck him. "I have a message for you," he told her. "People seem to think I'm some kind of a post office."

"A message?" she repeated. Perhaps Little Pete wanted to see her again.

"Yeah. From some guy claiming to be your nephew."

"That was my nephew, Theodore," Auntie Lil told him crisply, her coffee order forgotten. "What did he say?"

"He said to tell you that he'd had an invitation to go to the building."

Auntie Lil stared out the window and thought hard. Who had invited Theodore to Emily's building and why? How annoying that he had found something out without her. "What time was that?" she asked Billy, acutely aware that Annie was listening carefully.

"About an hour ago. You want anything or do you just want to leave another message back?" He raised his eyebrows sarcastically and slapped meat and cheese on a hard roll for Annie.

"I'll be back in a minute," Auntie Lil decided. "Wait here for me, Annie. We may need your help."

Before the younger woman could protest, Auntie Lil was heading out the door. She planned to pass by Emily's building and see if she could get in the building somehow. Listening in at doors might have been beneath her, but she was not above being petty. She might hear something useful, and if she heard anything that indicated Theodore was in trouble, she'd be able to go for help.

As Auntie Lil left the deli, the door of a car parked nearby opened. A lanky figure cut across to the avenue opposite Auntie Lil and stepped into a doorway. The remaining occupants stayed put, peering into the deli to watch as Annie O'Day chatted with Billy.

The nearby Broadway theaters had emptied their audiences almost simultaneously and noisy groups of people were making a beeline to Eighth Avenue from the east, hoping to snag a cab uptown. The women were snugly wrapped in furs and the men were taking this early opportunity to show off their new fall coats. The chattering crowd shoved past Auntie Lil, oblivious to her age. They wanted only to be the first to reach the street with an outstretched hand and the first chance at a taxi. The avenue grew quite crowded and, though preoccupied with her plans, Auntie Lil was highly annoyed. She elbowed her way across the street, then stepped to one side for a breather. A vacant storefront at the corner of Forty-Sixth and Eighth afforded her more room, although the small pool of darkness cast by the decrepit awning and deep doorway probably housed a wino or two.

Or something much worse. A big woman dressed in a strapless gown and wearing a long blonde wig stepped out from the darkness and gripped Auntie Lil's left elbow. An even stronger hand grabbed her from the right and twisted her arm sharply. "Don't say a word," a gruff voice ordered. "Just start walking and look straight ahead. Go straight down Forty-Sixth Street."

Stunned, Auntie Lil obeyed their order. Her feet moved of their own accord, though her stomach sank in complete terror. A small pricking sensation in her side told her that the woman on the right held a small knife and would use it to goad her if she had to. Auntie Lil slid her eyes to the right and caught a glimpse of black hair piled high above silver spangles. The hand gripping her elbow wore gloves.

They moved swiftly down the sidewalk, passing the man with the huge bulbous nose who liked to hang out near the corner. He was sitting in his usual spot in a lawn chair, blending into the building behind him. They passed by and Auntie Lil did not dare turn her head, but he saw her and stared after them, his sleepy eyes regarding the unusual trio with careful disinterest. He turned back and stared across Eighth Avenue at the bright lights of the Delicious Deli.

"Who are you?" Auntie Lil asked her captors helplessly. The pair of women steered her quickly around the many crowds of chattering friends trying to decide which restaurant they should patronize. She was being borne through the crowd as easily as a child between her parents. No one noticed and no one cared.

They passed by a man and woman arguing fiercely; they were attracting more attention than she was. She should try making a noise, like screaming bloody murder. Surely that would attract someone's notice?

But when she opened her mouth to scream, the tiny pinprick at her side turned into a sharp stab. Something warm welled through her thin pants suit. She realized what and felt weak.

"Don't say a word, don't open your mouth," the cruel woman on the right ordered. "We just want to ask you some questions and then we're going to let you go. But if you make a scene, I'll stab you right now. You'll be dead before you hit the ground."

Auntie Lil knew from the calm tone of her voice that the woman meant just what she said. She contorted her face instead, trying to attract someone's attention. Wedged between the two gaudily dressed prostitutes, she would have made a ridiculous sight anywhere else but New York. But packed among the crowd of theatergoers, they only blended in with the chaos and elicited not a single glance.

Where were they taking her and why? There was something familiar about the woman. Especially her long gloves ... Of course, it was that woman that T.S. seemed so fascinated with. What was her name? All Auntie Lil could think of was a bird. Why a bird?

"Who are you?" Auntie Lil asked again. The sharp stab answered back.

"Shut up," Leteisha Swann ordered calmly.

They were already halfway down Forty-Sixth Street, heading west rapidly. They passed a bar just as the door opened wide. Sounds of Dixieland jazz drifted out across their path, then faded behind them with a sweet finality. Auntie Lil strained her ears, hoping for more. The music had somehow been reassuring.

But up ahead, barely visible a few blocks away, the Hudson River gleamed, its waves dully reflecting the light of the full moon above. Auntie Lil stiffened and dug her feet in automatically. But the strength of her two captors prevailed and they only lifted her from the sidewalk, carrying her inexorably forward. They were the strongest women she had ever known, hardened by street combat and the drive to survive. Maybe even stronger than Annie O'Day. Why had she left Annie behind?

They passed Emily's apartment building on the other side of the street. Auntie Lil looked upward. A light gleamed on the sixth floor. Was Theodore there? Would this be the last time she was near him?

Then it hit her. This was what had happened to Eva.

It was as if the woman in silver spangles could read her thoughts. "If you're quiet, we'll let you go. We just want to find out what you know. We're taking you somewhere private to talk. We don't plan to hurt you."

The docks. She knew with certainty, now, that they were hustling her over to the deserted docks near the Westside Highway. Should she struggle? She shifted an arm and prepared to fight back.

"If you don't come along," Leteisha Swann repeated patiently, "I'll stick you right here and leave. You'll bleed to death in the middle of the sidewalk and no one will ever know we did it. It's your choice. Die now or take a chance we'll let you go."

The finality and calm confidence of the prostitute filled Auntie Lil with complete despair. The woman was a professional, unfazed by abducting her in public and under the noses of hundred of other New Yorkers. She knew just what to do, and, most probably, meant exactly what she said. She'd know right where to stab her, too. There was nothing to do but go along. Perhaps they did only want to talk to her. Perhaps Eva had been stubborn again and that was why she died.

They passed the Jamaican restaurant at the corner of Ninth. Nellie, the owner, sat perched on her customary table. Auntie Lil turned her head slightly and their eyes locked. Auntie Lil's were wide with terror, but Nellie's remained as dark and impassive as ever. In fact, Nellie's braids barely clicked she turned her head so smoothly to watch the unusual trio crossing the avenue. They were heading straight west toward Tenth Avenue. Nellie hesitated, then her eyes clouded over. She looked as if she had reached a decision, but just then the front bell tinkled and a rare pair of customers entered the shop. Relieved at the momentary distraction, Nellie hopped from the table and set to work filling their order. But her eyes still stared out into the darkness that yawned on the other side of Ninth Avenue.

Forty-Sixth Street between Tenth and Eleventh Avenues was deserted. They were too far from the theater to attract restaurant-goers so the block was completely residential. Now it would do her no good to scream. A trickle of warmth ran down her right side and dripped onto her shoe. Just as she'd thought, the cruel woman on the right had drawn blood with her earlier jab. As sturdily built as she was, Auntie Lil was eighty-four years old and had not eaten dinner. She did not know how long she could last without fainting.

"This is a quiet block," she suggested helplessly. "We could talk here."

They ignored her and continued to pull her forward. Up ahead a ragged figure rummaged in a pile of garbage sacks. They drew closer and Auntie Lil could spot a decrepit old woman with frazzled hair and filthy clothes hanging from a gaunt frame.

Adelle, she thought triumphantly. Or one of the other retired actresses.

The old woman reached into a bag of garbage and pulled out a discarded container of Chinese food. She stuck two grimy fingers inside and scooped out the gummy contents, sniffed it then nodded and took a tentative bite. Auntie Lil's hopes fell. The poor woman would be of no help to her.

Soon, they reached Tenth Avenue and there to the left, Auntie Lil could see the neon lights in the windows of Mike's American Bar and Grill winking in the near darkness. It seemed like years ago, instead of days, that she had met Theodore there for lunch. What she wouldn't give for the chance to sit at the bar there again, sipping a Bloody Mary.

A crowd of men joking and drinking beer on the corner stepped aside to let them pass.

"Help," Auntie Lil cried out weakly, but a shrill laugh from the woman on her left masked the sound.

"Hola!" the prostitute sang out to the men. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be back!"

"Hola!" one of the men called after them. "You girls working with your granny these days?" The crowd laughed but their merriment quickly faded behind them as the two women stepped up their speed, nearly dragging Auntie Lil between them. Only a deserted street littered with the shadows of huge trucks and empty garages stood between them and the piers of the Hudson.

"Just a block more to go," Leteisha Swann announced calmly. "Then we shall see what we shall see."


"Don't you know Rodney's last name?" T.S. asked Little Pete once again.

The kid shrugged. "He's weird. Comes and goes. Disappears all the time. No one knows where he lives, man. I don't like him. Never did. Since way before he beat up Timmy, I knew he was bad news. He's real mean, you know. Real mean and real calm. Won't say nothing and then, bam, you're down on the sidewalk. Cold. He's a cold man. Real cold. Makes me shiver just thinking about him. I'm going to bust him good."

"No, you're not. You're going to tell this to the police and let them bust him," T.S. said firmly. He switched off the tape and slipped the cassette into his jacket pocket.

"The police?" The boy's voice trembled. He was still unconvinced, though T.S. had spent the better part of a half hour pleading with him to at least tell the cops about Rodney. And the rest helping him trash the apartment in what T.S. knew to be a futile attempt to make it look as if it had been robbed.

"It's all right, son. I'll stay beside you every minute. They won't ever have you alone." Both T.S. and Little Pete took reassurance in his repeated use of the word "son." And both needed reassurance at that moment.

"We won't mention the man at all," T.S. promised. "Just Rodney. Don't you want to see him punished for what he did to Timmy?" Little Pete nodded glumly and they left the apartment. T.S. didn't think they'd get very far before he bolted.

"What are you going to do with that?" the small boy asked as they waited for the elevator. He stared at the videocassette.

T.S. patted it. "Let Detective Santos take a look." Especially if you take off running down the street like I think you're going to do, he thought to himself.

"The cops." Little Pete's back stiffened and he repeated the word several times, as if not quite believing that he was going to take a stand on the same side as his old enemies. "What if Rodney finds out it was me who told on him? He'll get out and kill me."

"No, he won't," T.S. said calmly. "They'll put him away somewhere where he won't be able to get to anyone ever again."

"For beating up a kid?" The little boy gave an ugly, adult-sounding laugh. "That's a joke. You don't know nothing, man."

"He killed Emily," T.S. said simply. "He killed Timmy's grandmother and we're going to get him." There. Maybe that would keep the kid in tow.

Little Pete's eyes grew wide and his mouth shut abruptly. He stood only inches from T.S. in the elevator car, craving the comfort of his solid presence like a chick seeks the shelter of his mother's wings. They rode down in silence, T.S. sometimes absently patting the boy's head.

The street was crowded with theatergoers and they had to push through a batch of plump and bejeweled ladies to reach the street. Sure enough, as T.S. had suspected, Little Pete began to drag his feet.

"You go without me, man," the boy started to say, but an indignant buzz cut him off. Shouts rang out on the other side of the street.

"What's up?" Little Pete asked, standing on his tiptoes. T.S. unashamedly followed suit. Someone was pushing through the throng of restaurant-goers. A whole line of pushing people, in fact. They burst into a patch of deserted sidewalk and, in that instant, fifty-five years of constant connection to another human being culminated in a certainty that, somehow, Auntie Lil was in danger. He knew it the second he recognized the figure plowing through the crowd at the head of the pack.

Annie O'Day was barreling down the sidewalk and Billy of the Delicious Deli was a few feet behind. Inexplicably, they were being followed by a funny old man with a huge bulbous nose and an impressive ability to run like a younger man.

"What is it?!" T.S. cried out as they passed by.

"Your aunt!" the deli owner yelled back when he recognized T.S.

Heart thumping, T.S. joined the procession, bringing up the rear. They pushed through the disgruntled crowd without apology, enduring thrown elbows and sharp shoves. His heart pounded so loudly that, for a moment, T.S. was afraid he would not be able to keep up. But once he got going, he hit his rhythm. Plus fear and pride gave him energy. By God, but that funny old man was fast. But wait—here came someone even faster. Little Pete passed him on the left as they neared Ninth Avenue.

"What are we doing?" the boy shouted at T.S. as he fled past. He was ready to be in on the action.

"Follow them!" T.S. shouted back. "Or better yet, call the cops." The small boy screeched to a halt on the far side of the avenue and dashed to the nearest pay phone. T.S. kept running. Annie's light-colored sweat shirt bobbed in front of him like a beacon in the darkness. It was followed by a patch of white from the deli owner's apron. T.S. prayed fervently that whatever was wrong, those two were on the side of the angels.

The lead runners crossed Ninth Avenue and hesitated, unsure of where to go next. T.S. slowed with them and scanned the sidewalk. There was no sign of Auntie Lil. Should they go west or head up or downtown?

Suddenly, someone crashed into his left side. T.S. was momentarily thrown off his stride but recovered in time to continue the chase. A large black woman dashed ahead of him, eating up the distance between T.S. and the old man with the funny nose.

"Straight ahead!" she was shouting. "And hurry! Hurry!" Her beaded braids bobbed wildly as she raced along. Mesmerized, T.S. increased his speed.


The Westside Highway teemed with intermittent life, then fell back into loneliness. They were in an area of seldom used side streets, but as stoplights several blocks away on either side disgorged waiting cars, long lines of autos would periodically zoom past. No one slowed as they passed. People picked the highway because they were in a hurry and it would take more than a little old lady flanked by prostitutes to merit a second glance.

Only a few streetlights still worked on the deserted stretch of sidewalk where they waited in a pool of darkness for a chance to cross the road. A few blocks farther downtown, Auntie Lil could see the enormous bulk of the Intrepid', a huge aircraft carrier that had been converted into a floating museum. Now closed for the season, its shadow dominated several blocks of the river. Across from it, the lights of The Westsider bar blinked steadily.

She wondered if Detective Santos was slumped at his table, empty glasses of gin scattered before him. Would he ever guess that she had been brought just a few blocks from him before her death?

Auntie Lil could not stop the unhappy thought. Because she was certain now that they meant to kill her. Otherwise, they would have stopped in the last block where there wasn't a human being to be found. There was little she could have told them, but she would have tried. Now, with the deserted pier just a few lanes of traffic away, she saw that she had been more than foolish. It would have been better to have risked a stabbing in a crowd than certain death in the oily waters of the Hudson.

Ahead of them stretched a length of sidewalk along the river that was topped with the abandoned girding of an old highway. Unused now, its only purpose was to house the makeshift cardboard shacks of the homeless. Its structure cast deep shadows on the nearby piers, creating an area of virtual darkness next to the water. There was a lull in traffic and the two women quickly dragged her across the highway. They obviously had a destination in mind, no doubt because they had been there before.

They pulled her to a corner of the pier near the sidewalk, completely shaded by the darkness. Helplessly, Auntie Lil watched as lines of cars zipped past. No one could see them where they were.

"She's bleeding," the woman on the left complained. "Why'd you have to go and cut her? She would have talked to you."

"Talk to me?" Leteisha Swann gave an ugly laugh. "Don't be stupid. I don't care what this old lady has to say. She can tell it to the fishes. If you can find any in there."

"Hey, you said you weren't going to hurt her," the blonde protested. "People saw us back there. If this gets in the papers as a killing, they'll remember. Maybe they didn't say anything at the time, but they saw us."

"Doesn't matter to me," Leteisha Swann said calmly. "After this, babe, I'm going to disappear." She snapped her fingers. "I disappear like that. It's much simpler than you think."

The other prostitute stared at them in the darkness, her doubt obvious in her uncertain, husky voice. "I don't know, Leteisha. We don't have to hurt this old lady. I know I'm not getting enough money for that. You probably aren't, either. Let's just see what she knows and let her go."

Leteisha Swann. Auntie Lil remembered. That was the woman's name. T.S. had been right all along—she was part of what was going on.

"I'm not doing it for the money," Leteisha explained to her friend. "I'm doing it for the fun." She smiled. Her teeth gleamed against the darkness of her face.

The blonde prostitute stepped back, horrified. "That's rank, Letty. You and me both got mothers, you know."

"Is this how you people live?" Auntie Lil demanded. "Discarding people like they were garbage, dumping them to the bottom of the river like trash?"

"People are garbage, grandma," Leteisha said calmly. "And taking out the trash happens to be my specialty."

Auntie Lil had heard enough. She kicked Leteisha in the shins and elicited a reaction. It was not what she had hoped. The woman cursed and pulled Auntie Lil closer to her chest, her elbow hooked around Auntie Lil's throat. Her arm was like a vise, cutting off any chance of escape or even any hope of being able to make noise. Auntie Lil knew she'd never be able to wiggle her way out.

"I'll hold her and you cut her throat," Leteisha ordered her companion.

The other woman stared back in disgust. "No way, Letty. I'm not cutting her throat. You needed help getting her here, I helped," the blonde insisted. "I've done my part. Now I'm out of here. I'm not cutting anyone's throat." The woman turned to go but a hiss from Leteisha stopped her.

"You help me now or you'll be next," Leteisha ordered. "So help me God, you won't be able to walk these streets without wondering when your turn will come."

Auntie Lil was furious, frightened and indignant. They were arguing over her as if she were the last piece of bait in some fisherman's pail. She tried to struggle but the grip of the arm only tightened. If she moved again, all air would be cut off.

"Screw you. I'm leaving," the blonde decided. She turned to go and Leteisha gave a low growl. There was no other way to describe the ugly sound that emanated from between her tightly clenched teeth. It was a growl and even Auntie Lil, who thought she was as frightened as a person could be, felt fresh terror at the unnatural sound.

"You're going to be—" Leteisha's threat was cut off by the sounds of distant yelling. Startled, she fell silent and pulled Auntie Lil further into the shadows. The blonde took a panicked step forward.

"Don't move," Leteisha ordered in a deadly voice. Auntie Lil could not have moved had she wanted to. But she listened carefully and realized that the sounds were coming closer. People were yelling, several people. What was it they were yelling? Was that her own name?

"Aunt Lil!" she heard a female voice bellow. Others shouted as well.

It was now or never, Auntie Lil thought to herself. Do something— anything—or you're going to die. She twisted with all her might and croaked, "The police!" before Leteisha's arm cut off any other hope of sound.

It had been enough. The skittish blonde panicked and ran south along the pier.

"Stop!" Leteisha ordered, but it was too late. The blonde reached the end of the shadows and fled across a pool of streetlight, heading for the huge battleship a few blocks farther south.

"Over there!" a female voice bellowed again. "There's someone." Auntie Lil felt faint, more from frustration than physical deprivation. She was acutely conscious that, with help only a few feet away, she could still easily die if Leteisha chose.

The shouting grew louder and, suddenly, an odd parade was running across the highway. Cars honked and brakes screeched. Auntie Lil stared at the figure in the lead. It looked like Annie O'Day but, my God, what a frightening figure she made—all muscle and anger and noise. She held a scalpel straight out in front of her like a spear and was screaming, "Let her go! Back off! Let her go!" Her eyes scanned the shadows of the docks in front of her. She was still uncertain as to where Auntie Lil was being held.

Not surprisingly, given the determined figure and the outstretched scalpel, Leteisha chose to do just as Annie suggested. Cursing, she flung the knife into the black waters of the Hudson, pushed Auntie Lil to the pavement and began to run furiously south. Kicking off her heels as she fled, she dug into the sidewalk with astonishing speed and took off after the blonde. Auntie Lil fell against the rough surface, scraping her elbow and one cheek. She lay flat against the concrete, gasping for breath. Annie O'Day bent over her, the scalpel held high in the air. It gleamed in a patch of moonlight.

"Are you all right?" Annie asked anxiously, holding up Auntie Lil's head and checking for cuts or bruises.

Auntie Lil managed a small nod, and saw that others were heading her way. "Go get her," she told Annie weakly, pointing south after Leteisha Swann.

Annie took off running into the darkness, the pounding of her sneakers on the sidewalk echoing eerily in the silence between groups of cars. The shouting had stopped and there was only the sounds of heavy breathing and other footsteps approaching the dark corner of the pier. Auntie Lil wanted to meet them with head held high, but she felt so weak… the closeness of the scare had drained her of her remaining strength. She was scared, damn it, scared and angry at herself and ashamed and discouraged that her body had proved so frail. The effort was too much and, dazed, she lay her head back down on the concrete. She'd just rest for a teensy moment.

Someone was panting heavily just inches from her ear. "Oh God," she heard the gasping voice say. "Aunt Lil? Aunt Lil?"

"She's dead!" a voice shouted in sudden panic.

"Certainly not!" she replied weakly. "I absolutely refuse to die like this." Her head felt a bit better and she opened her eyes. It was Theodore, her own dear Theodore.

"Stop fussing, Theodore," she ordered weakly. "I'm fine. It's just that… just that…" She could not finish the sentence. She forgot what she was about to say. She was lost in the bliss of believing that, finally, she was safe. If Theodore was there, that meant she was safe. Struggling to sit, she curled up and leaned against him. He held her close and patted her wiry curls.

"It's okay," he said reassuringly. "They've called the cops and an ambulance. You're with me now. You're safe."

She wanted to thank him, but the relief was too much. Just then, a competent hand took hold of her arm and checked her pulse. "You're okay, granny," a melodious voice assured her. She opened her eyes again to find Nellie, the woman who owned the Jamaican restaurant on Forty-Sixth Street.

"You saw me," Auntie Lil said simply. "I thought you were going to ignore it."

"I saw you. And I should have done something right away. I'm ashamed of myself. Trying to look the other way." Nellie glanced at T.S. "Her pulse is good. She's been nicked a little in the side and there's blood, but I think that she's mostly scared."

"I thought you said all little old ladies looked alike," Auntie Lil joked feebly.

"Not all little old ladies eat three of my meat pies." Nellie waved two waiting figures over. The funny old man with the bulbous nose stepped from the darkness and looked down at Auntie Lil with deep concern.

"You saw me, too?" she asked in deep wonder. He nodded solemnly and gave her a small smile.

"Tommy saved your life. He came running into the deli," Billy explained, patting the old man on the back. "It took us a minute to figure out what he meant. Old Tommy here doesn't talk."

The man nodded again, smiling more widely this time.

A small bouncing figure darted out from behind the old man. "You okay?" Little Pete asked breathlessly. "I called the cops. They're on their way."

As if on cue, a squad car pulled up by the sidewalk, siren off. But the lights flashed furiously, casting multicolored shadows for blocks down the road. Two uniformed officers stepped from the cars and approached the group cautiously, their faces obscured by shadows.

Seconds later, an ambulance came shrieking up and two paramedics hopped out with a stretcher, looked around and, seeing no one obviously injured, stood to one side and waited for orders.

Just then, amid much scrambling, deep cursing and heavy breathing, Annie O'Day appeared from the south. All that weight lifting and soccer and running and bicycling had paid off. She had Leteisha Swann firmly by the neck with one hand, while the other twisted Leteisha's arm tightly behind her back in an upward grasp.

"Let me go, you big amazon," the prostitute was arguing fiercely, her whole body trembling. But when she saw the two officers— one male, one female—she relaxed and her complaining attitude evaporated instantly. "Officers, these people are harassing me," she said in a plaintively indignant voice. "On account of my profession. This wild woman here is assaulting my person."

"Why, you liar!" Anger gave Auntie Lil strength. She struggled to her feet and leaned forward, eyes blazing. "How dare you add lying to attempted murder, you killer… you, you thief!"

"Let her go," the male officer ordered, ignoring Auntie Lil. Annie reluctantly relinquished her grip on Leteisha. The policewoman backed into position behind Annie, as if she were the troublemaker.

Leteisha took a long time before she spoke, first primping her hair, dress and gloves carefully back into place. Auntie Lil was not fooled: she was stalling for time to think up a story. Oh, how dangerous and cunning this woman was. One minute she was the quintessential cold-blooded killer and the next she could be a flustered, slightly dumb, poor little streetwalker victim of society. One who was obviously friendly with the cops on the beat.

"Like I say," Leteisha began in a polite, throaty voice. "This old lady approached me on the street and asked me for directions to the—"

"You're a damn liar!" Auntie Lil shouted as she darted forward and flailed at the woman. She had just been pushed too far. Her punches bounced off the woman's arms—she seemed made of steel. Before the policeman could interfere or his partner could get around Annie, Leteisha Swann shoved Auntie Lil and sent her flying against the concrete wall of the pier front. The fight only took a few seconds. Auntie Lil bounced off the wall and fell to the ground, groaning at the shock.

For T.S., it was the breaking point. Fifty-five years of well-bred behavior disappeared in a single enraging moment. He felt like he was underwater, swimming up for air. The breath exploded in his lungs; his ears began to ring. Red spots swam before his eyes and power surged through his body, energizing him with unbelievable fury.

"Don't you ever touch my aunt again," he announced just before he drew back a fist and sent it crashing into the center of the prostitute's face. He heard a crack as his knuckles went numb. Leteisha Swann flew backwards, where she hit the pier railing and crumpled to a silver heap on the sidewalk.

Officer King grabbed T.S. from behind, locking his arms firmly at his side. The assembled crowd stared at the still figure of the prostitute in amazement, then turned and gawked at T.S.

The policewoman calmly helped Auntie Lil to her feet and bent over to take a look at Leteisha Swann.

"Help her up, too," the male officer ordered his partner. The policewoman grabbed the prostitute by both arms and hoisted her upright.

Annie O'Day peered at Leteisha Swann's face closely. "You broke her nose," she pointed out to T.S. with undisguised approval.

The policeman released T.S. and took a closer look. "That's assault and battery," he warned T.S. darkly.

"There's something funny about her," Auntie Lil declared, glaring at Leteisha as she struggled to catch her breath.

The prostitute groaned and her head bobbed groggily. Her hair had slipped wildly to one side.

"That's a wig," Nellie announced darkly. "Not a good one, either, if you ask me."

Little Pete was staring at Leteisha Swann.

"What's the matter, son?" Nellie asked him kindly. She put her hand on the young boy's arm. "You're trembling. What is it? Tell us."

Little Pete could not speak. He just stared at Leteisha, then looked to T.S. for help. In a single glance, T.S. understood. Darting forward before the officers could stop him, T.S. grabbed at Leteisha's hair. The wig ripped off with a sticky sound like a zipper, to reveal a smooth brown scalp beneath. Her head was completely shaved.

Even the jaded officers looked stunned at the development.

"It's a wig all right," Billy agreed.

"It's a man!" Nellie corrected.

"It's Rodney!" Little Pete announced loudest of all, fear discarded in favor of anger. He stared Leteisha in the face. "It's Rodney. The man who beat up Timmy."

The cops stared at one another, uncertain what to do. Auntie Lil took advantage of their inaction.

"Rodney?" she asked, turning to T.S. for guidance.

He nodded grimly, sucking at his injured knuckles. "You know him all right," he told Auntie Lil. He gripped the long glove that adorned Leteisha's right hand and peeled it back to her wrist— revealing a large eagle tattoo adorning the prostitute's lower bicep. The eagle clutched branches in his talons as he swooped downward in fierce supremacy.

"I give you The Eagle," T.S. told the assembled group, sweeping his injured hand out like a magician's. "Behold the disappearing man."

"He is real," Auntie Lil whispered, flushing as the closeness of her own death was reinforced.

"Damn right I'm real," Leteisha shot back, struggling to stand upright. Her voice deepened and she grew more defiant as she gingerly touched her bleeding nose. The game wasn't over yet and so far as she was concerned, her name was still Leteisha Swann. "So maybe I was assaulting this lady," she told the officers. "But I was just trying to get her pocketbook. And I have no idea of who this Rodney guy is."

This unleashed another round of protests from the group until the policewoman blew her whistle for silence. Confused, but still determined to maintain his authority, the male officer addressed Leteisha Swann. "Robbery is a serious crime," he began.

"Not as serious as murder," a confident voice interrupted. The small crowd parted automatically at the sound of this new voice and Detective Santos stepped through into the clearing.

"What are you doing here?" the male officer demanded grumpily. He didn't like someone else taking over on his home turf.

"I was up the street," Santos explained tersely, nodding toward The Westsider. "I saw the flashing lights."

"I called you twice at the precinct like you asked," Billy spoke up angrily. "Fat lot of good it did her." He nodded toward Auntie Lil's bleeding leg, but Detective Santos ignored the jibe. His conscience was clear—he had warned Auntie Lil.

Santos stared at Auntie Lil then squinted at Leteisha Swann's eagle tattoo.

"He beat up Timmy," Little Pete piped up bravely. Nellie patted his shoulder in reassurance.

"That so?" Santos said softly. He scrutinized Leteisha as carefully as an exhibit in a museum. "Interesting tattoo. I believe we may have to make that charge murder."

"You've got no witnesses," Leteisha challenged him. But clad so absurdly in women's clothing, the revealed killer was suddenly more pathetic than frightening. His defiant posture and threatening tone seemed silly and out of place.

"We'll find a witness, don't you worry." A polite, deep voice tinged with a heavy Southern drawl floated out from the shadows behind them. Franklin stepped into view, his massive body clad once again in his customary overalls. Behind him, movement rippled in the darkness. An unseen crowd had gathered. The homeless who had declared the abandoned upper roadway their home had been drawn to the pier by the flashing lights and the unusual sounds.

Franklin twisted his hat in his hands and stared steadily at the killer, his natural diffidence nowhere in evidence. "I've spent all week looking and I don't plan to quit now. I'll find the man that saw you. Just you wait and see."

"Franklin!" T.S. stepped up to shake his hand. "Where have you been?"

"Been looking, that's where I've been." His head nodded toward the unseen homeless gathered in the darkness on the fringes of the pier. "I'm getting close. Met a man up here tonight who knows the old fellow who was sitting next to Emily the day she died. I'm on my way down to the Bowery for him now."

"He's our witness," Auntie Lil announced in triumph. "Franklin will find him."

"Met another man up there who saw you with Miss Eva the other day," Franklin continued softly to Leteisha. "'Course, you looked a little different than you did that day at the soup kitchen." He pretended to look Leteisha over carefully. "More like you look right now, I'd say. With the wig back on, of course. Ma'am."

Detective Santos had been watching this exchange with a patience quite unlike him. Now he turned back to the waiting officers. "Take him in," he ordered tersely, pointing at Leteisha. "I'll meet you there in half an hour."

"Just him?" the policeman protested. He looked at Auntie Lil pointedly, then back at the detective.

"That's what I said," Santos explained tersely. "And no one talks to him until I get there. Understand? No one, not even the Lieutenant."

"What about her?" the male officer asked again. He pointed his baton at Auntie Lil.

"Miss Hubbert and I will be there shortly," the detective answered smoothly. "After we get this little nick here checked out." He took Auntie Lil's arm tenderly and patted her hand as if she were a rare jewel. "I owe you an apology, Miss Hubbert. That and a return favor. We'll stop by the hospital first." He broke into a big smile. "You'll get good service, I guarantee it. I plan to escort you there myself."

Auntie Lil tried to smile back but found herself bursting into fervent tears. T.S. took her firmly by the shoulders and made her sit on the curb. There—surrounded by her new friends—she cried until she could cry no more. Detective Santos and the ambulance crew waited patiently for her to finish.