“There’s no easy way to say this. But she’s been spotted a couple of times soliciting in Uptown, mostly old guys, but a couple of times young ones who were pretty affronted.”
Relief that it was so trivial made me laugh—that and the image of Elena taking on someone like Vinnie the banker or Furey himself. I hooted so loudly that Peppy came over to see what the trouble was.
“It’s not as funny as all that, Vic—the only reason she hasn’t been arrested is because of the connection between your family and the police. I was hoping you could go talk to her, ask her to stop.”
“I’ll do my best,” I promised, gasping for breath, “but she’s never paid much attention to anything anybody said to her.” I couldn’t help it, but started laughing again.
“If I came along?” he suggested tentatively. “Uncle Bobby thought it might make more of an impact if someone from the force was there to back you up.”
“Tell me the truth—he was too chicken to confront her, wasn’t he?”
Michael hedged on that one—he wasn’t about to slander his commander, even if Bobby was his godfather. Instead he asked, even more hesitantly, if I might be free to do it tonight. I looked at my watch. It was only eight-thirty; might as well get it over with.
“If she’s in, she’s probably drunk,” I warned him.
“She won’t be the first one I’ve seen. I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes.”
I still had on the red rayon challis skirt I’d worn to Marissa’s party. I changed it for jeans—I didn’t want Furey to think I was dressing up for him. When he rang the buzzer, right on time, I took Peppy back down to Mr. Contreras. She was totally miffed—no run, no games, and now she had to stay inside when I was setting out on an adventure that would doubtless include chasing a lot of squirrels and ducks.
Michael had recovered a certain amount of his breeziness. He greeted me jauntily, asked if I’d gotten over the shock of identifying Cerise, and solicitously held the door of the Corvette open for me. I gathered my legs together and swung them over the side, the only possible way to get into that kind of car—I’ve always wondered how Magnum leapt in and out of that Ferrari.
“Where does she live?” he asked, starting the car with a great roar.
I told him the address of the Windsor Arms but left him to find his own way. You never have to give a Chicago policeman street directions. Maybe we should require a year of patrol duty for all would-be cabdrivers.
Michael used police privilege to block the hydrant in front of the hotel, A couple of drunks came over to inspect the Corvette but slid into the night when Furey casually let them see his gun. When he got inside no one was at the desk. I had headed toward the stairs, Michael behind me, when a voice shouted from the lounge, “Hey! No one up those stairs but residents.”
We turned to see a man in green work clothes push himself out of a chair and head toward us. Behind him some mindless sitcom was blaring from the high-perched TV. In his youth the man had been muscular, maybe played high school football, but now he was just big and sloppy, his belly straining the buttons on his green work shirt.
Michael flashed his white teeth. “Police, buddy. We need to talk to one of the inmates.”
“You got some ID? Anyone can come in here saying they’re police.”
He might be three-quarters drunk and run to seed, but he had some spunk, Michael seemed to debate playing a police heavy, but when he caught me watching him he pulled his badge from his pants pocket and showed it briefly.
“Who you after?” the night man demanded.
“Elena Warshawski,” I said, before Michael could put out the police none-of-your-business line. “Do you know if she’s in?”
“She ain’t here.”
“How about if we go upstairs and see for ourselves,” Michael said.
The man shook his head. “Wouldn’t do you any good. She took off three days ago. Packed up all her stuff and took off into the night.”
“Thursday?” I asked.
He thought for a minute, counting backward. “Yeah, that’d be right. She in some kind of trouble?”
“She’s my aunt,” I said. “She gets lonesome and tries to find people to keep her company. I want to make sure she’s okay. You know where she went?”
He shook his head. “I was setting in there, watching the two A.M. movie, and seen her sneaking down the stairs. ‘Hey, sis, ain’t no law against you coming downstairs in the middle of the night. You can walk upright,’ I calls to her. She gives a gasp and asks me to go outside to see if the coast is clear. None of my business what business people get up to, so I goes out and watches her head over to Broadway. No one was bothering her so I come back inside. And that’s the last I seen her.”
That was an unsettling scenario. Something had rattled her badly enough to make her scoot from a secure bed, badly enough to keep her from landing at my door.