Maybe she does know where Leary is, Maureen thought. Maybe she needs a way to tell me. “I thought maybe you’d moved on. The weather is turning, it’s cold living on the streets. I thought maybe you’d headed for Florida or California.”
Dice shrugged. She held her cigarette close to her mouth. On her hand was a fingerless black-and-white-striped glove. Tough picking pockets with gloves on, Maureen guessed. The things you learned staying out late in New Orleans, she thought.
“I considered it,” Dice said. “Remember Taylor? The boy who wore the blue eye shadow over one eye, the one who wanted to fuck me so bad it oozed out of his pores? He begged me to come back with him to Orlando.”
Maureen shrugged. “He seemed nice. Florida’s okay. Warm. My mom and her boyfriend are thinking of retiring there.”
“The Empire of the Rat? Seriously?” Dice said.
“Not Orlando,” Maureen said. “But Florida.”
Dice waved away the idea, a disgusted look on her face. “No offense to your moms, but fuck that.” She tossed her cigarette in the street. “I like it here. New Orleans grows on you. I hear the winter doesn’t last, anyway.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Maureen said. “This is my first one, too.”
“And really, it’s only a couple of months, which is really only a few weeks, when you think about it, until Mardi Gras gets here. That I want to see.”
I’m sure you do, Maureen thought. Tourist pockets to pick as far as the eye can see.
“Actually, it starts right after Christmas,” Dice said. “So it’s practically fucking here already.”
Maureen could hear the hope in Dice’s voice. She knew it wasn’t for the holidays, or for Carnival. It was for the end of the cold, and for the chance to steal enough money to eat hot food, take a hot shower, and maybe to live indoors at a hostel or a flophouse until the Mardi Gras money ran out and she was back on the streets again. Many of the kids who Dice ran with had homes and parents to return to; it was an ill-kept secret on the streets. Maureen knew that Dice had neither of those things.
“She’s a murder suspect, you know,” Maureen said. “You withhold information and you’re committing a felony. And she’s dangerous. You know that as well as anybody.”
Dice cocked her head, studied Maureen out of one eye. “Are you even a cop anymore?”
“Of course I am,” Maureen said. “I’ve just been on kind of a hiatus for a while.”
Dice nodded, sagely. “Because of that cop you knew who died in the river.”
“Madison doesn’t have to talk to me,” Maureen said. “She can reach out to Detective Atkinson. She’s the one working those murder cases now. I know Atkinson. She’s the best there is. She’s good people.” She stretched out her empty hands. “You could talk to Atkinson.”
“You’ve told her everything I told you?” Dice said.
“Weeks ago.”
“Then what’s the point?” Dice said. She turned in a circle on her boot heel. “This Atkinson’s already heard what I have to say. Why does she need to hear it from me in person?”
“We could help you,” Maureen said. “Quid pro quo. You help us; we help you. Atkinson has a lot more juice than I do.”
Dice laughed out loud. “The police? The city? Help me? Help me do what?”
“Sure,” Maureen said. “There are diversion programs, shelters, halfway houses, all kinds of resources.”
“Diversion programs,” Dice mocked, making air quotes with her fingers. “Because I need my face jammed into some bull dyke’s muff in the middle of the night. Or some creepy old perv slipping his cold fingers down the back of my pants. No fucking thanks.” She laughed again. “You’re terrible at this, Officer. You’re a terrible storyteller. You don’t believe a single word coming out of your own mouth.”
“Fine, you’re right,” Maureen said. “But you know as well as I do that Madison killed two men.”
“Allegedly.”
“You’re her attorney now?” Maureen said.
“Those two men followed her to New Orleans,” Dice said, her voice heating up, “and hunted her when they got here. All Madison wanted was to get away from them and the rest of their stupid group of fake soldiers. What did they call themselves?” She made air quotes again. “The Watchmen Brigade.” She made a show of rolling her eyes. “Whatever. Those two men who died, you and I both know they had it coming. The world is better off without them. Don’t even tell me you don’t believe that.”
“We don’t get to make those decisions.”
“There you go again,” Dice said, “spouting shit that you don’t believe.” She moved a step closer. “Think of it this way, then. If Madison is the killer you seem to think she is, look at what she did to those Watchmen. She cut both of their throats. You think it’s best being out here alone after dark chasing after her when she’s this crazy murderer?”
Maureen scratched at her scalp. Why had she not gone home hours ago? She’d forgotten what a pain in the ass Dice could be, like a gremlin you couldn’t quite grab. And how smart she was. “Can you even tell me if she’s stayed in town?”