Fat Tuesday(81)

He worked the difficult equation in his head: Four boots equals two men.

They were talking together in low voices, but Gregory still couldn't distinguish the words. He angled his head back, wishing to thank them again for saving him, but when he saw their faces, the words died on his swollen lips and he fainted.

"What time is it?"

At the sound of her voice? Burke turned from the stove. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Going on six."

"I've been asleep that long?"

"Some of Dredd's medicine is still in your system."

She went into the toilet. When she came out, she poured herself a glass of water and drank from it slowly. After a moment, she said, "Your grease is too hot."

Admittedly, he was no master chef, but he'd fried fish before, and it had been edible."Who made you a cook?" he asked peevishly.

"I'm self-taught."

He harrumphed.

"I'm a little rusty. I don't have many occasions to cook anymore, but I certainly know how, and if you don't turn down that flame, the breading is going to burn before the fish is done. I'd be glad to take over for you."

"I'm sure you would. And I'd wind up with a face full of hot grease."

"Actually, Mr. Basile, I'm hungry. I'd like something to eat before I stage my daring escape attempt. Besides, I doubt I could lift that iron pot using both hands."

Inside the sizzling grease, two fillets of fish were becoming way too crisp, way too fast. He glanced down at her and reasoned that she probably did lack the strength to disable him without also disabling herself. So he moved aside and motioned for her to take his place.

"Did you catch the fish?"

"This afternoon."

"If you don't mind, I'll start over. Would you please take the pot off the burner?" He did as she asked, she turned down the flame.

Using a wire spatula, she removed the charred fillets from the smoking grease.

While it was cooling, she sifted his flour and cornmeal breading mixture through her fingers."Did you add salt?"

"Uh, no."

"Any seasonings at all?"

He shook his head.

Several tins of spices were lined up on a narrow shelf behind the stove. She reached for the cayenne pepper. Burke took a hasty step backward, which caused her to laugh."City cop succumbs to cayenne," she said as she shook the pepper into the breading mixture."I can see the headlines now."

"I'm not a cop anymore."

"No, you've gone over to the other side and started committing crimes."

"I've committed only one. So far."

"Isn't kidnapping a little ambitious for your criminal debut?"

"Are you teasing me, Mrs. Duvall? You think this is funny?"

Startled by his tone, she turned to him."Do you find it amusing that Wayne Bardo has already killed two people since your husband got him acquitted?

Two that we know about, that is. That's a real hoot, isn't it?

"And how's this for grins? When Kevin Stuart died, he left two young sons who'll grow up not knowing what a great guy their dad was The next time you feel like a chuckle, think about that."

'"It's Pinkie's job to get his clients acquitted. That's what defense attorneys do."

"Well I see he's got you well indoctrinated. But then you're a smart cookie, aren't you? Even at an early age, you had learned enough about whoring from your mother to snare yourself a rich and powerful man."

"You don't have the slightest idea of what you're talking about."

"Wrong, Mrs. Duvall. I do. I know all about Angel, about her regular job as a topless dancer, as well as her lucrative sideline as a whore that supported her drug habit."

That evoked a reaction, but he couldn't categ hore it. Was she surprised that he knew so much? Angry that he had dredged up a past she wished to forget? Was she embarrassed or mad? He wasn't sure.

Whichever, she lashed back.

"If you know all that, how can you blame me for wanting to get away from her and that life? If I hadn't met Pinkie, Flarra and I "

"Flarra?"

"My sister."

Sister? How had he missed that part? Then he remembered her going to the ritzy girls' school."How old is she?"

"Sixteen. But she was only a baby when Pinkie took us away from our mother."

"Angel just let you go?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what? Exactly."

She averted her head, but he moved in front of her and forced her to look at him."How'd you link up with Duvall?"

"I thought you knew all about it, Mr. Basile," she mocked.

"I think I can fill in the blanks."

"Be my guest."

"Angel dances in one of his clubs, but he pays her for more than dancing. He's one of her clients. One day, he notices you, and you look better to him than mama. Angel tells you to put into practice something of what she's taught you, promising that if you do, you'll snag yourself a rich man. Is that about it?"

Her head dropped forward in what appeared to be defeat and remorse, but it lasted only a moment. When she defiantly threw back her head, her eyes were bright with angry tears.