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“You know who I’m talking about.”
“Can I ask why you’re looking for her?”
“I just want to talk to her. We can work something out. You know where she’s hiding, don’t you?”
“Sir, I really can’t help you.”
Blake narrowed his gaze, looking him up and down—sizing him up, and Rick knew what he was thinking. He was thinking he was looking at a wimp, a coward, a young guy who’d sat out the war, who’d be easy to take down in a fight. Blake was thinking all he’d have to do was wave the gun around, break his nose, and he’d take him right to Helen because no broad was worth sticking up for like that.
Rick smiled, knowing it would make him crazy. Blake scowled and walked out.
Rick had the rest of the night mapped out. He knew what would happen next, how it would all play, a bit of urban theater, predictable yet somehow satisfying. Last call came and went; he offered to close up. After locking the doors, he set chairs upside down on tables, gave the floor a quick sweeping and the bar a wipe down, turned out all the lights, and went out the back, where Blake was waiting for him.
Blake lunged from the shadows with a right hook, obviously intending to take Rick out in a second and keep him from gaining his bearings.
Rick sidestepped out of the way. Blake stumbled, and Rick pivoted, grabbing Blake’s shirt, yanking him further off balance, then swinging him headfirst into the wall. The man slid to the ground, limbs flailing for purchase, scrabbling at Rick, the wall, anything. The sequence took less than a second—Blake wouldn’t have had a chance to realize his right hook had missed. He must have thought the world turned upside down.
Wrenching Blake’s arm back, Rick dragged him a dozen feet along the pavement in the back alley. The shoulder joint popped; Blake hollered. With a flick of the same injured arm, Rick flipped Blake faceup—bloody scrapes covered his cheek and jaw. Jumping on him, Rick pinned him, holding him with strength rather than weight—Blake was the larger man. He brought his face close to smell the rich, sweet fluid leaking from him. Rick could drain the man dead.
A floodlight filled the alley, blinding even Rick, who shaded his eyes with a raised arm. Squinting, he needed a moment to make out the scene: a police car had pulled into the alley.
“You two! Break it up!” a man shouted from the driver’s-side window.
Climbing to his feet, Rick held up his hands. Next to him, Blake was still scrambling to recover, scratching at the cut on his face, shaking his head like a cave creature emerging into the open.
The cop had a partner, who stormed out of the passenger side and came at them, nightstick in hand. He shoved Rick face first to the brick wall and patted him down. “What’s this? A couple of drunks duking it out?”
Rick didn’t speak and didn’t react. He could have fought free, stunned the officer, and disappeared into the shadows. But he waited, curious.
“What have you got there?” the driver asked.
“A couple of drunks. Should we bring ’em in?”
“Wait a minute—that guy on the ground. Is that Charles Blake?”
The cop grabbed Blake by the collar and dragged him into the light.
“That’s it, bring ’em both in.”
Rick rode in the back of the squad car next to Blake, trying to decide if he should be amused or concerned. Dawn was still a few hours away. He had time to watch this play out. Blake was hunched over, breathing wetly, glancing at Rick every now and then to glare at him.
Within the hour, Rick was sitting in a bare, dank interrogation room, talking to a plainclothes detective, a guy named Simpson. He lit a cigarette and offered one to Rick, who declined.
He said, “You were picked up fighting with Charles Blake behind Murray’s.”
“That’s right,” Rick answered.
“You want to tell me why?”
Rick leaned back and crossed his arms. “I expected to be thrown in the drunk tank when I got here, but you’re interested in Blake. Can I ask why?”
“What do you know about him?”
“He’s been bothering a girl I know.”
“Your girl?” Rick shrugged, and the detective flicked ashes on the floor. “That’s why you were beating on him? I don’t suppose I can blame you for that.”
“Is Blake dangerous?”
