The Gypsy

SIX
How the Devil Found the Gypsy and the Wolf Found the Spider

Through doors that lead

to a fire blazing red,

Where she makes no distinction 'tween

The living and the dead

"THE FAIR LADY"

The Fair Lady sits with Her feet in the fire, watching Her toes heat up. She wriggles them with pleasure. They are very long, and the nails gleam like mother-of-pearl. There is a scampering from outside, then scratching of goose-feet at the black iron door. She frowns and causes it to open and the liderc enters. One leg is that of a goose, one arm that of a horse, and where he walks he leaves little puddles of fire, but the fire has no smoke. He bows many times to the Fair Lady.

"Speak, " She says, in Her voice that is like steel bound in silk.

"Fair Lady," says the liderc. "The Wolf is still on our track."

She frowns at this, for She knows that, while wolves have served Her before, in the end they serve only themselves. "We shall have Little Timmy slay the Wolf," She says.

But the liderc shakes its head. "I don't think he will,Fair Lady. He is more afraid of wolves than of you."

She almost cuffs him for this. but then reconsiders. Perhaps he is right, for to Timmy She is only a dream, but he has lived among the wolves all his life, and they are real to him.

"I am not unprepared," She says. "One of his cubs will come to me when I will it, and he will follow his cub."

"You are ever wise, mistress. Will you call her to you now?"

She shrugs. "Soon. If Little Timmy can slay the Dove,there will be no need to do more. We will see if he succeeds first. If he fails, we can perhaps throw him to the Wolf,thus distracting the Wolf and punishing Little Timmy at the same time. And perhaps we will even allow Little Timmy to see us. Yes, that might be best. But for now, we will wait. Go and do my bidding. "

"Yes, Fair Lady." The liderc scampers away. The door behind him closes with the clang of iron. The Fair Lady sees that Her feet are about to turn black from the fire, and regretfully removes them from the flames.

He came into town on a hot summer's night,

The flies was giving us fits.

Drove an old Ford that had about lost the fight,

His eyes was as black as the pits.

"THE GYPSY"

He awoke in the chair, and there was a blanket around him. MacWurthier was reading a newspaper and drinking coffee; he looked up when the Gypsy stirred.

"You must have been tired," he said. "You've slept more than twelve hours."

"I… thank you."

"You're welcome. Would you like some tea? Maybe some breakfast."

"No, thank you. I must leave now. You need not forget her, but you will please her most by trying to be happy."

MacWurthier stared at him. "I know that," he said,as if to himself. "I've been trying. But it's not easy."He seemed lost in reflection. The Gypsy rose and let himself out, not saying anything more, because nothing more was necessary. He returned to the street and made his way toward the park.

[?] lower me another beer, have another dream; Everything is all confused, nothing's what it seems.

"STEPDOWN"

Stepovich glanced away from the traffic at Durand. He was sulking in his corner of the patrol car like a spoiled brat. Something childish in Stepovich didn't want to break the silence, but need overturned it."Lunch?" he said.

"Yeah." Durand kept his eyes focused on the street. "Norm's."

"Okay," Stepovich agreed sullenly. That was where Tiffany Marie worked. "But to go."

"Bullshit! I'm not eating in this stinking car."

"I wanna take it over to the park. Guy there I got to talk to."

"Well, do it later. It's too drizzly for picnics in the park. And there's someone at Norm's I want to talk to."

"Tiffany Marie."

"So what's it to you?"

Stepovich glanced at him. The kid's cheeks were pink. Durand plainly knew he was in the wrong, so Stepovich let him have it.

"I busted her twice for whoring before she was fifteen," Stepovich spoke deliberately, slowly, coldly."She was a runaway, working the streets, too stubborn to work for a pimp. So she was taking it from both sides, getting the real dirt-bag tricks, and the pimps' girls threatening her all the time. Both times Ed and I busted her, the court sent her home. Both times her dad beat the living shit out of her. Not for spreading her legs, but because she was doing it for money instead of for dear old dad. Which was why she kept running away. Third time we picked her up it was because her John had left her unconscious in the motel room, and the manager of the motel wanted an extra two hours' rent from her when she didn't leave on time. She didn't have it, or any money. The John had taken that, too. What she did have was cracked ribs, a broken collarbone and the clap. Crabs,too, from what I hear."

Durand's hands were fists on his knees. Stepovich loosened his grip on the steering wheel. If that damn kid came across the seat at him, he was going to nail the fucker good. He pulled up in front of Norm's and coolly called in their lunch break. He half turned toward Durand when he was done. Right in the mouth was where he was going to hit him if the kid came at him. Smash his big mouth, and to hell with the bloody knuckles.

"You think you're telling me something I don't know?" Durand's voice was thick with an emotion Stepovich couldn't identify.

"No. I think that's all you know. I think you don't know that the last time, Ed and I dumped her on Marilyn's doorstep at two in the morning after they let her out of Emergency. I don't think you know that Marilyn took her in. Tiffany Marie is no whore, Durand. Not anymore. She's going to school at night and she's paying Marilyn a bit of rent and she's going to make something out of herself. All she needed was a chance. What she don't need is you hitting on her and treating her like a whore."

Durand made a move that might have been something that started out to be a punch and ended up a slap on the dashboard instead. "I don't treat her like a whore." Durand's words were as individual as single shots. "Not that it's any of your business."

"You saying you aren't banging her?" Stepovich deliberately baited him.

"I'm saying it's none of your fucking business,"Durand roared, and in the roar was an edge that let Stepovich know one thing and suspect another.

He poked at the idea. "So you ain't screwing her.I suppose you're in love with her skinny ass."

"Fuck you," Durand replied with controlled fury. And he got out of the squad car and walked away,into Norm's. Stepovich slowly followed him in. Long habit made his eyes scan the scene before coming to rest on Durand. He was bellied up to the counter, and Tiffany Marie was already taking his order. Stepovich looked at her, remembering how he and Ed had shook their heads over her name. Tiffany Marie, a diamonds and velvet name for a cracker-butt kid with carroty hair and pink lipstick on a pouty little mouth and eyes made up like a Technicolor raccoon. Tiffany Marie,with hickeys up the side of her neck and chipped fingernail polish and runs in her sexy black mesh nylons.

Shit.

He added up the years. Yeah, she probably was eighteen now, maybe even nineteen. The soft swells under the clean white blouse were probably all hers,and when she turned to pass Durand's order to the cook, her hips weren't exactly the skinny little ass he remembered wrapping a blanket around when he carried her out of that cheap motel. The carroty hair was more like burnished copper now, and was probably long, but he couldn't tell with the way she had it pinned up. Had it been that long since he'd really looked at her? He took the stool next to Durand's,and Tiffany Marie turned to him with a smile. Her lips needed no lipstick and for the first time he realized how blue her eyes were. "Hey, Mike, having the usual?" she asked, and her voice was so casual and warm that he knew Durand hadn't said a word to her about what he'd said in the car.

Stepovich felt slimy.

He glanced at Durand, but the kid wouldn't look at him. The kid. Hell, yes, just a big kid, what was he, twenty-two, twenty-four? Not exactly cradle-snatching for him to be looking at Tiffany Marie. And she was looking back. As she set silverware and napkins before them, it was her hand that brushed against Durand's. He studied Durand in small glances between spoonfuls of chili. What was the kid, six-two,six-three? A little puppy fat on him, maybe, not much. Dark hair, grey eyes. He had a job, he made money regular. He was clean, mostly. He was a dumbshit,but at least he wasn't a drunk or a junkie or a sponge.Probably didn't hit his women. Maybe Tiffany Marie didn't think he was an dumbshit.

Maybe he wasn't a dumbshit around her. Would she keep a dumbshit's coffee mug filled all the time like she was doing? Would she keep turning around and smiling at a dumbshit?

Stepovich crumbled crackers into his chili, mashed them in. Boy, Marilyn was going to be pissed; she had called this one wrong.

And there had been more than one dumbshit in the car this morning.

He was thinking about that so hard that he was more than halfway through his Chili and Cheeseburger Special before he realized they hadn't ordered to go like he'd meant to. Damn. He'd wanted to go to the park, and talk to the driver of the horse hack that Ed had tracked down for him. Ed hadn't known the guy's real name, only the handle of Spider, and that his horses were mismatched, one grey and one brown. Stepovich had been counting on catching him near the espresso stands where a lot of the yuppies went to eat lunch and be picturesque. Horse-drawn cabs picked up fares there, the same yuppies being dashing and romantic before going back to their offices after lunch.

And now Durand had screwed him up.

After a moment's reflection, he decided to call it square. He'd acted like a jerk in the car, grilling Durand about Tiffany Marie. So let Durand get away with this. Besides, it was just as well. Durand would have wanted to know what he was talking about to the cabby, and that wouldn't have done at all. It had been hard enough to get the rest of the tip from Ed without him getting suspicious. Well, actually Ed probably was suspicious.

He let Durand pick up the tab and leave a tip, and even followed him out to the car. He was still trying to think of some way to let Durand know he knew he'd been out of line. He called in on the radio to let it be known he and Durand were back on the streets.He'd about decided he'd have to apologize, and was thinking of the right words when the dispatcher saved him. She acknowledged their call, then added in an almost human voice, "Three messages for Stepovich to phone Jennie Edwards at his earliest convenience."

Edwards. Jennie Edwards. Somehow it had really hurt him that she'd gone back to using her maiden name. And made a big point of notifying all their friends. Like she didn't want to keep the least little scrap of their life together. "Be a second or two," he grunted at Durand as he got back out of the car.

There was a pay phone at the rear of the diner,outside the restroom doors. He dialed her work number, dumped in a quarter when she answered. "You wanted me to call you," he told her without preamble. No hello, how are you, what's up, just get right to the message. This was how they did it now.

"Yeah. It's about Laurie…"

"She okay?" He cut in, visualizing hospitals, kidnappers, car wrecks, rapists.

"She's fine." Impatience at his fear in Jennie's voice. "And that's just the trouble, really. Since school started this year, she's been running with the wrong crowd. Faster kids, kids older than her. Some of them are driving, for Christ's sake. She's come in past midnight the last two nights, and I'm sure I smelt liquor on her breath. And the clothes she's wearing…"

"Hold on. Wait a sec." Something wasn't adding here. His Laurie was what, thirteen, no, fifteen? And into frilly blouses for square-dancing for the PTA, for God's sake, not staying out until midnight with older kids with cars. "What the hell are you letting her run around like that for, Jennie? And how is she dressing weird? Where the hell is she getting the money for all this?"

"From you, and don't think I don't know about it!Sneaking around, sending her extra checks behind my back! How do you think it makes Jeffery feel, when he finds out daddy sends big sister thirty extra bucks to blow and nothing for him? Not to mention what it does for my authority when she goes out and buys spandex leopard-spot pants without even asking me."

Spandex. What the hell was spandex? Whatever it was, it didn't sound like something Laurie should be wearing. "Jennie. Wait a minute. She phoned me up and told me she needed money for a blouse for a square-dancing program…"

"And you believe that? Without even checking with me? And you just sit down and write the check, because mean old mommy won't buy her a blouse? Michael, get real!"

The phone was getting slippery in his grip. Durand had come in and was leaning on the counter, talking to Tiffany Marie. They were both watching him, he knew it, taking quick little glances like he was a pimp under surveillance or something. He turned his back on them so they couldn't see his face, and turned back into Jennie's ranting.

"… maybe shoplifting. She was wearing these earrings, very pretty and very expensive-looking, and when I asked her about it, she said she just found them. And she gets this look on her face, I swear, it just makes me want to slap it off there. And that cheap little snot Chrissy that she's always running around with, she smirks and says, 'Just consider it a gift from the Lady, Ms. Edwards.' "

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Stepovich demanded.

"You tell me! Unless she's some drug pusher or into child pornography or something. Chrissy drops that name all the time, like it's some secret club or something and-"

"Look," Mike cut in. "It's obvious we have to talk. All of us. I'll come over tonight as soon as I'm off shift, and-"

"Oh, no. No way. I talked to her counselor at school, and Ms. Simmons said the worst possible thing would be for a male authority figure to suddenly descend and try to take control of Laurie's life. This "Lady" thing may be a sort of reaching toward womanhood-"

"For Christ's sake," Stepovich butted in, annoyed at her parroting the counselors at him, but Jennie talked right over him, her voice just getting more insistent.

"-that the girls are doing, a redefining of themselves as women rather than children. And Ms. Simmons says that while it does need to be talked about,it needs to be talked about in a nonthreatening atmosphere."

"Well, if Ms. Simmons has all the fucking answers,what the fuck are you calling me for?" He was mindful of where he was and that Durand might overhear him. So each furious word came out in a stiff separate whisper, though they wanted to burst from his chest in a scream. Every six months or so, Jennie seemed to find a new way to do this to him. He was Laurie's father, damnit, he had a right to know, he had a right to help, to be there for her. And now she was telling him that he'd hurt Laurie if he "interfered" by talking to her. His throat squeezed shut and he couldn't get anymore words out.

"I should have known you'd react that way. Listen, Michael, I don't buy everything this counselor says either. And we both know, real well, that you have big problems with believing that any woman can know more about something than you do. But I'm willing to listen to Ms. Simmons if it will help Laurie. So anyway, I'll tell you why I called you. Because Ms.Simmons knows of a women and girls encounter therapy group that she feels could help Laurie. But it's expensive, and my health plan doesn't cover it.All I want to know is if yours will. If the police insurance doesn't have some clause for family counseling,it should, all the families that your police work breaks up and destroys."

"I don't know." Little lead words. "Call Bewie at the services number. You've got my policy number.Ask her. Even though she's a woman, she knows more about the cop insurance stuff than I do."

"And that's all? Call Bewie. Don't you give a damn at all about your daughter?"

"You've already told me you don't want me to come over and talk to her. So what the hell can I do?"He couldn't contain his voice.

"Oh, forget it! I'm sorry I asked. I'll check with Bewie. I'm sorry you called at all."

"Yeah. Me, too." He slammed the receiver down on its hook. He looked over his shoulder and both Durand and Tiffany Marie looked hastily away. Durand said something to her, and she shook her head slightly, not a denial but a commiseration. Stepovich took a deep breath and turned and strode out past them. "Durand. Let's go," he said, and ignored Tiffany's timorous, "You take care now, Mike."

The afternoon passed. That was all he could say for it. Passed the same way time passes for a ball in a pinball machine. Hit the bumpers, light the lights,make the buzzers, but at the end of the play it falls through the flapper gates, and not a damn thing is really changed, not the ball nor the buzzers or lights. It's just time for a different ball to set them off. Neither he nor Durand spoke much, but the tension was different now, it was Durand keeping quiet because he didn't want to set Stepovich off, not keeping quiet to spite him. In an odd way Stepovich was grateful for that.

So when he had finished typing the nineteenth report up, he looked up at Durand and said, "I was out of line, earlier today."

"Yeah. You were. Well, let's forget it," said Durand, and in that moment they were as close to being real partners as they'd ever come.

Stepovich thought about that, driving home. Durand was doing better, no doubt about that. Sometimes, anyway. But a real partner would have noticed that Stepovich hadn't changed out of his uniform after shift, and wondered why. And a real partner would have told the kid that he was going to do a little after-hours rousting, and invited him along. Shut up, he told himself, and agreed with himself.

Raven had his fiddle.

And Owl a tambourine,

And I'd love to hear them play again

And tell them all I've seen.

"RAVEN, OWL, AND I"

"I think I know you, my friend."

"Know me? Well, yes and no, Daniel. We've met in another time and place, but your youngest brother knows me better."

"Yes, You're the Coachman, aren't you?"

"I am. Do you know where your older brother is?"

"No, where?"

"Hmm. I don't know either. I was hoping you did. Well, never mind. You must come with me."

"I know. I've been expecting you since yesterday."

"Of course."

"Where are we going?"

"Lakota, Ohio. Does it matter? Your youngest brother needs your help."

"I am ready to help him. I've been trying to find him since-"

"I know. We've all been waiting. The time of waiting is ended. You have your fiddle?"

"I have it."

"Then come. The coach awaits. It's a Greyhound."