‘It’s OK, Tick,’ she interrupts, and I feel my fur start to bristle. ‘I’m not working for Diamond Jim. Not AD either.’
He shakes his head and I can see he is near tears. ‘That doesn’t matter, Care. It’s not the job that they care about. They don’t want you asking questions. “Keep that girl of yours from poking her nose everywhere.” That’s what Brian – the big guy – said to AD. They’re … I don’t like them, Care. I think they’re dangerous. I think they’d hurt you. I think maybe they hurt the old man.’
Care nods, acknowledging a truth. ‘I think they did, Tick, but it doesn’t matter.’ She looks up and, for a moment, our eyes meet. I get a flash of light – the sun, reflected in her unshed tears. ‘I’m going to keep looking into it. I’m going to find out what happened to the old man, and I’m going to make them pay.’
SIXTEEN
Tick doesn’t like that, and neither do I. He protests loudly, however, while I wait and watch, considering my options. Care is a smart girl, and this is not a smart move. We who are smaller must be careful how we hunt. Whom we hunt. At the very least, she must realize that her declarative outburst – stating her purpose to one who has admitted being a pawn – is foolish. There is nothing to be gained by revealing your next move. There are many things I will never understand about humanity, and this kind of self-destructive gesture is certainly among them.
‘Care, you can’t.’ Tick is on his feet. He has taken her hand and is shaking it, as if he could wake her sense of self-preservation. ‘These guys, they mean business. They don’t want you nosing around.’
‘Like they didn’t want the old man nosing around?’ Care’s voice has gone cold. She holds her hand still. Holds his. ‘I think you’ve just told me what happened, Tick. That creep, Brian, he wanted the old man out of the way. The old man must have realized he was the one behind the jewelry theft. I knew he was onto something.’
‘No. It’s not like that.’ Tick shakes his head now, unable to keep still. ‘Brian and his guys – they didn’t rip off anything. They don’t need to. In fact, Diamond Jim is working with them now. Like he was working with the old man. And he’s doing good. Business is better than ever, he says, and I believe it. His shop is full up with everything you can imagine and—’
He stops and stares at his feet.
‘What?’ She leans over him, concern replacing the anger of moments before.
‘He even paid me, Care.’ He looks up sheepishly. ‘In coin and everything.’
‘To come find me?’ She’s catching on. I even see her sniffing the air around him. Searching for that strange and acrid scent.
He shrugs. ‘He didn’t want you bothering Brian and those guys. He says everything is all right. Just … quit poking around. Please, Care.’ His voice is pleading. ‘He’ll have jobs for both of us. Paying jobs. For coin. But you got to stop asking questions about everything.’
‘And Fat Peter?’ She’s looking at him as if from a distance, her eyes hooded and cool.
Another shrug. ‘They’re handling that. You know he was mixed up with a lot of things. He just—’ Tick looks up. ‘Nobody thinks you did it, Care. Not really.’
‘But everybody thinks they need to tell me to back off.’ She’s talking to herself rather than him. This makes me purr. ‘Everybody says that everything is fine.’
She sends the boy down the hall to wash and as soon as he’s out the door she starts shoving papers and other items into her bag. ‘I don’t know, Blackie.’ She talks as she works. ‘First, Fat Peter is killed. Then Bushwick comes by, and now Tick.’ She hesitates over the food but shoves that in, too. ‘Seems to me that whatever the old man was onto is still going on – and I’d be a fool not to see it.’
‘Care, what are you doing?’ Tick walks into the room as she rolls another of the old man’s shirts into a ball.
‘I don’t know if I’ll be able to come back here,’ she says, shoving it into her bag. ‘No matter what I told Bushwick.’
‘Who’s Bushwick?’ His confusion appears genuine.
‘Another visitor. Only he came by to get something, not deliver a message. And I bet he’ll be back.’ She folds the top over her carryall and pauses. Our eyes meet, and I can see that hers are clear and hold no tears. ‘So it’s time to move out.’
Tick accepts this without comment, only looking at the uneaten wrapper of cookies. ‘Take them,’ says the girl.
They’re in his pocket in a moment. ‘Thanks,’ he says, his voice soft. ‘Where are we going?’
‘We?’ She smiles. ‘Tick, I don’t want to get you more involved in this.’
‘You’re not going to send me back, are you?’ He looks sick at the prospect. ‘Not to AD or … or …’