Chance of a Lifetime (Chances Are #1)

  "Don't be such a stick in the mud!" She pinches my cheek until I cry out. "You just stay right here. Mama will be back with your bottle in a few minutes."

  She continues to laugh as she goes inside. I take a few steps away from the door and lean against the wall as I wait. I put a hand to my cheek where Maddy pinched it. This whole night has become surreal, more so than everything that's happened so far. All those times I tucked Maddy in and kissed her forehead goodnight, I never imagined someday we'd be on a bender together. Like any father, I wanted more for her.

  An old memory surfaces. One of Maddy's first writing assignments in grade school was to write about what she wanted to be when she grew up. I had hoped she would pick a cop like her old dad. But being only seven years old, of course she picked something fanciful: a ballerina. A drawing accompanied the little paragraph she wrote in crayon, with a vaguely human shape dressed in a pink leotard and tutu. That fifteen years later she would be a barista at a rundown coffeehouse, living with a woman seven years older than her, and drinking bourbon straight from the bottle would have come as a shock to both of us.

  I feel the tears start to come again. My poor little Maddy. Here she is, trying to drown her sorrows in bourbon when I'm still here. I'm outside waiting for her. Why can't I tell her? It's not fair. First to have her taken away by Debbie and the lawyers and now taken away forever by Artie Luther.

  Sometimes when you think the universe is complete shit, it decides to throw you a bone. Or in this case, a Worm.

  ***

  I rub my eyes a couple of times to make sure it really is the Worm on the other side of the road. Then my heart almost stops when he turns and looks right at me. Does he recognize me? How could he? No one knows who I really am except for Jake and Dr. Palmer.

  He starts across the street and hurries as fast as his thin little legs can carry him. The closer he gets, the more I know it's him. If not by sight than by smell: the stench of menthol cigarettes, cheap beer, and sweat that accompanies him everywhere he goes. What do I do? Should I make a break for it? What about Maddy? She'll be back any minute with the booze.

  For the first time since I graduated from the academy I don't know what to do. A few days as a girl have rusted my cop instincts. So I don't do anything. I stand against the wall and stare wide-eyed at the Worm.

  As he steps onto the sidewalk, I realize we're the same height now. This makes him more intimidating than before. My stomach roils with fear. Fear of the Worm? He'd need help to kill an infant in a crib.

  Before I can wet myself, the Worm turns. He doesn't care about me. He's on his way to the liquor store, probably to get some more cigarettes. Maybe he'd already tried the machine at Squiggy's. Or maybe he was still too scared to go back in there after last time.

  With that memory, the fear in my stomach turns to rage. The Worm did this to me. Not directly, but indirectly. If I hadn't seen him at Squiggy's that night, I wouldn't have known about the robbery at Lennox Pharmaceuticals. I wouldn't have gone there and been injected with FY-1978. I'd still be me, a broken-down fifty-year-old police detective. Maddy wouldn't be inside this liquor store, trying to drink her problems away like her old man.

  As the Worm is about to open the door, I call out, "Hey mister! You got any spare change?"

  He turns and now he looks at me. I know the smile that comes to his face for what it is: he's checked me out and likes what he sees. "Maybe. What would you do to earn it?"

  He lets the door go and takes a few steps towards me. I hold on to the rage like a life preserver and let it think for me. "I don't know, what do you want me to do?"

  The Worm puts a hand around my shoulder. "How about we go into the alley and do a little negotiating?"

  It's suicide for a girl like me to let someone like the Worm take her into a dark alley. But I don't care. This scumbag helped take my life from me; now he'll help me make Artie Luther and his goons pay for it.

  We go behind a dumpster, where he presses me up against a wall. I let him move his hand down my shirt so he can cop a feel of my breasts. "I bet you're new around here," he says.

  "You could say that."

  "Just came to the big city from Ma and Pa's farm, right?"

  "Maybe."

  "Now you realize this big city ain't what it's cracked up to be."

  "I'm starting to see that."

  "That's only 'cause you hadn't met me yet, baby," he says, his attempt to act suave. That alone is enough to make me want to gag. His hand starts to move down into my jeans. "I bet you never got laid with any of them farm boys, did you?"

  "No."

  "I thought so." The pervert actually licks his lips. "A ripe little virgin. How's about you come back to my place?"

  "And you'll help me out?"

  "Sure, baby. I'll help you out in a lot of ways."

  He doesn't just want to touch my privates. He wants to get a good whiff of them too. I try not to flinch as he bends down to unzip my jeans. I wait until he's got his head level with my zipper, then I strike.

  Thirty years as a cop, a lot of those years spent in bars, taught me a lot about practical hand-to-hand combat. Most of those moves were better used as a six-three, two-hundred-thirty-pound man. So I rely on something much simpler: I knee him in the face. When he's down on the ground, I kick him in the balls as hard as I can.

  It hurts like hell given the state of my feet, but I'm rewarded as the Worm writhes in pain. I wait a few seconds before I give him another kick, this one to the midsection. "You cunt!" he shouts.

  The Worm doesn't carry a gun. He'd be more likely to shoot himself with it than anyone else. He does carry a knife, in the inside pocket of his jacket. I've taken it off of him a few times already. This time I aim to keep it.

  I take his wallet too while I'm at it. I look through it and find fourteen bucks. "You were going to take my virginity for fourteen bucks?" I ask him. I push the button on his knife and out pops the six-inch blade. "I should cut your dick off and make a necklace out of it."

  While I should do that, I put the knife to his throat instead. With my other hand I drag him into a sitting position against the wall; the dumpster makes sure no one will see us. That's a good thing, because a few seconds later I hear Maddy call my name.

  "Stacey? Where the hell are you?"

  I put my free hand to the Worm's mouth before he can say anything. Between that and the knife at his throat, he keeps quiet. If Maddy comes down the alley and sees us like this, I'll have to tell her this perv tried to jump me and I turned the tables on him. Maybe not the most believable story, but in her present state, Maddy probably wouldn't think too hard about it.

  "You stuck-up little bitch! Where the hell are you?" Maddy shouts. When I still don't say anything, she adds, "Fine! I didn't want to share this with you anyway!"

  With that my little girl staggers off into the night. I hope she doesn't run into anyone like the Worm before she can make it home.

  ***

  Now that we have some privacy, I take my hand off the Worm's mouth. I bend down so we're eye-to-eye. "Who are you?" he asks. "A cop?"

  "You tell me. Look in my eyes."

  "What? You some kind of hypnotist?"

  "Just do it or I'm going to give you a free tracheotomy."

  He stares at me for a few moments. Then his face begins to pale. "Fischer? But, you're a-"

  "A cunt? Yeah, it's amazing what modern technology can do."

  "That ain't possible. They said you dead."

  "Who?"

  "Everyone! They said you at the bottom of the harbor."

  "Maybe I'm just a ghost then. You want to take your chances?" I press the knife closer to his throat, enough so he can feel the blade.

  "Why you haunting me? I didn't do nothing to you!"

  "You told me about Lennox Pharmaceuticals. Was that an accident? Or did Luther send you to find me?"

  "You go stup
id or something? Lex didn't want no cops around. Not around that scene."

  "Why not?"

  "He didn't want nobody messing up his score."

  "Like an anti-aging drug called FY-1978?"

  "Maybe. I don't know!"

  I can smell that the Worm's pissed himself. To think I was about to piss myself when I saw him a few minutes earlier. "I believe you. A little shit like you doesn't know anything about Artie Luther's operation, does he?"

  "No! I don't know nothing! I swear!"

  "But I bet you do know someone who knows, don't you?"

  "I-"

  I press the knife tighter to his throat, enough that blood trickles down. He screams like a girl at this. "Don't make me ask again," I hiss. "Who told you about the robbery?"

  "Blades, man! It was Bobby Blades!"

  This makes sense. Blades was at the robbery, down in the basement. "Where can I find him?"

  "The club. He hangs out there all the time."

  "Which one?"

  "Honey Well Club. Goes there most every night unless he's got a job."

  "Good." I pull the knife back and then pat the Worm's cheek. "You better go home and clean yourself up. Then I'd suggest you hide yourself in a deep, dark hole or I'm going to put you under Ma and Pa's farm. Got it?"

  "Yeah, I got it," he says. He doesn't need any more incentive to run from the alley. I wipe the knife off with a hamburger wrapper and then tuck it into my pocket.

  I promise myself that tomorrow night Bobby Blades will get a visit from the ghost of Steve Fischer.

  Chapter 29

  I walk around for the better part of four hours to try to catch up to Maddy. The farther I go, the more my buzz wears off. Even the thrill of the Worm's defeat leaves me. All I'm left with is a sick feeling in my gut that I'm going to find my little girl dead in a gutter or her beaten, violated body in an alley.

  It's ironic to think of her as my little girl, because now I'm a littler girl than her. Still, I have the same sense of dread as when Maddy had a fever when she was two years old. I had felt so helpless then, as I watched Debbie mop little Maddy's forehead with a washcloth and force water down her throat. As with most everything in Maddy's life I hadn't been directly involved through most of it. Through most of it I had filled out paperwork and talked with Jake about cases we were working on; I popped into Maddy's room every now and then to make sure she hadn't died. That hadn't lessened the dread and fear; if anything it made things worse because I waited for Debbie to run downstairs and tell me our daughter was dead.

  I walk down every alley I come across, but see only a few bums. With the Worm's knife in my pocket I feel much safer about them. There are still a few bars open, but I can't get into any of them, not by myself. It's possible Maddy went into one of those for a few more drinks. I ask a couple of liquor store clerks if they've seen Maddy. We go through a vaudeville act where I point to my hair and then something pink before they shake their heads.

  By four in the morning my feet are tired and I'm about to collapse on the sidewalk and sob. I find an open diner and go inside. With some of the Worm's money, I get a cup of coffee to steady my nerves and some change for the pay phone.

  I decide to start with Grace. Maybe Maddy's gone back there for a little angry, drunk sex. The phone picks up after one ring. I don't get out more than her name before Grace snaps at me, "What the hell were you two doing?"

  "Is Maddy there?"

  "Yes she's here." The way Grace's voice falters, I know she's crying. Is Maddy hurt? "She's locked herself in the bathroom. She won't come out. She won't even tell me what's going on. I'm scared, Stace. She's never been like this before."

  I look out the window and see a street sign. "I'll be there in about a half hour, OK? Just don't do anything crazy before then. Either of you."

  "Stace-"

  "I'll explain when I get there."

  "OK, just hurry."

  I do hurry. I'm grateful for this lithe body that lets me gallop thirty blocks in twenty minutes. By the time I reach Grace's shop, sweat drenches my entire body. I don't have time to rest. I haul myself up the fire escape to the second floor.

  I've barely got through the window when Grace grabs me by the shoulder. She throws me against the wall hard enough that it'll probably leave a bruise for a day or two. I deserve it.

  "What the hell is going on? What were you and Maddy up to?"

  "I found some papers. About her father."

  "Her father? What about him?"

  "He's dead. I told her and she wanted to go out for a drink. So we went to this bar-"

  "You went to a bar?"

  "Yes. But we got thrown out. We went to this liquor store and I waited outside. This creep hassled me and we got separated. I looked all over for her. Is she all right?"

  "I don't know! I was sitting here working on my dissertation when she came in. I only got a glimpse of her before she locked herself in there." Grace lets me go. Then she shakes her head. "How could you let her do that?"

  "What was I supposed to do?"

  "You should have stopped her. Or at least called me and let me handle it."

  I look down at my feet, at what are probably Grace's sneakers. She seems to notice this too. "What happened to your clothes?"

  "I got my dress dirty, so Maddy snuck in here to get me something clean."

  Grace throws up her hands. I brace for her to punch or slap me or maybe just to give me another push. She doesn't do any of those. Instead she sinks down onto the living room couch and puts her face in her hands.

  I sit down next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry. This is all my fault. I shouldn't have told her."

  "It's not your fault. You don't know Maddy like I do."

  "What does that mean?"

  Grace looks up at me. "You don't know what kind of life she's had. Her parents got divorced when she was a kid. It wasn't an amicable divorce either. She never saw her father again."

  "He didn't even send a birthday card," I say.

  "Yeah, what a shit. Her mom isn't any better. The way Maddy tells it, her mom went through about half the phone book in the city. Every time poor Maddy thought it'd work out and she'd finally have a 'normal' family."

  Grace stops and shakes her head. "What you don't know about her is that the hair, the piercings, the attitude, it's all a dodge. It's a defense mechanism she's created for herself. She pretends to be this tough chick, but really she's that same ten-year-old girl whose parents broke her heart.

  "All these years, she's been hoping they'd get back together, that her daddy would come through the door and sweep her up in a hug and they could go out for ice cream and shit like that and then they'd go back home for dinner with Mommy."

  "And I ruined that for her."

  "Yeah. Now she knows for sure it's not going to happen. Before the odds might have been one-in-a-million, but now they're zero."

  I nod and think of my reaction to Dr. Palmer when she told me it'd be twenty years or more before I could hope for a cure. I had always thought I might be stuck this way for a long time-if not forever-but when she told me that had made it final.

  I join Grace in crying for Maddy. If Grace is right, then all this time Maddy's waited for me. But I never came for her. I was so stupid I never even tried to see her. I just crawled away with my tail between my legs.

  "I'm such an idiot," I say, which is putting it mildly.

  "You did what you thought was best."

  I say nothing. I can't tell Grace the truth. She'd never believe me. Neither would Maddy if I went to the door and told her that her new friend Stacey is actually the father she's longed for.

  And then the bathroom door opens.

  Grace and I spring from the couch at the same time. We hurry over to the bathroom and get there just as Maddy emerges. But it's not the same Maddy who went inside.

  Somewhere along the way Maddy must have s
topped at a drug store. The pink is gone from her hair. Now it's entirely jet black. She's taken the scissors to it as well to chop off most of it in favor of a patchy, boyish cut.

  She looks at me and then Grace. I mentally urge her to come to me, to collapse into her daddy's arms. But she doesn't. She picks Grace, her lover. She toddles forward a step before she melts into Grace's arms.

  "Maddy, what did you do?" Grace asks.

  "I'm mourning," she says. She slurs her words a little. "For Daddy."

  I want to grab her and tell her she doesn't need to mourn for Daddy; Daddy is right here. But I can't. Instead I watch as Grace leads her away to the bedroom. The door closes and I'm alone.

  Chapter 30

  I spend the rest of the night in the "guest bedroom" that had been Maddy's when she first moved in. The bed is lumpy and smells like cat piss, but I can't sleep anyway. I have far too much on my mind.

  Again I think what a fool I've been. Maddy needed me after the divorce and I was never there. Never a visit or a call or even a fucking card. I cut her out of my life entirely, except once a year to mourn her at Squiggy's. She needs me again now, but I still can't be there for her, not in the way I want. The best I can do is to be next door in a dusty bedroom while Maddy cries on another woman's shoulder.

  When I can't stare at the ceiling anymore, I roll out of bed. I put my ear to Grace and Maddy's door, but there's only silence. They've probably fallen asleep by now, entangled in each other's arms for comfort. That picture doesn't disgust me; it only makes me jealous again that Grace is the one Maddy went to for support.

  There has to be something Stacey Chance can do for Maddy. I see the stove and think breakfast in bed might help Maddy and Grace. There are eggs and such in the refrigerator, but I know I can't cook anything.

  Instead I put on a pair of Grace's sneakers and then slip down the fire escape. It's six in the morning, late enough or early enough depending on your perspective for the creeps to have gone to bed. I'm still glad for the Worm's knife. A girl can't be too safe in a place like this.

  I go down to the diner across from the Kozee Koffee, where Tess and I drank horrible coffee the one day. The service isn't any better as I order three vegetarian omelets and toast to go. I skip the coffee; I figure anything I make has to be better than the shit they serve here.