It had been a tossup for Sickblade after he'd watched the kid and Gaga get into that cab before – whether to go to a bar and think things through about how to get to her, or just stay here in the plumbing company's back doorway and watch the house, wait for one of the girls to come out and follow her. See what opportunity presented itself. After all, two of his tongues had come from here, the lovely Marla's and her foxy friend, Szu. The kid's sister, Tanya, had come from here, too, but she wasn't his vic. Hopefully, the kid had gotten the message he sent saying just that. And probably the prick cop, Dempsey, saw it too, odds being he had a hand in doing her. 

And then this storm blew in and the decision was made, just go to the bar.

Except he didn't. 

Because who should show up but the prick cop. 

A flash of lightning lit up Dempsey as he got out of an unmarked car, sidestepping between two parked cars and ducking into the alley that ran alongside the house. 

Talk about timing, this was too good to pass up. Use the storm for cover and see what the prick was up to. This prick who keeps saying it's sicko Sickblade who put the knife to Tanya. And now here he is where her brother just left from.  

When the unmarked drove off in a hiss of spray, he jogged up the block and peered around the side of the house into the alley. Didn't see Dempsey, but saw the stairs going down to the basement. Went over to them, the pounding rain covering any sound he might make. 

He took a careful look over the top step, could make out Dempsey down there at the bottom unlocking the door. Guy had a key? To a whorehouse? He started to step back, but stopped when Dempsey turned the door handle and disappeared inside. There was a window down there he could maybe use to see what Dempsey was up to.  Maybe take some pictures with his phone if he saw anything interesting going on. Had a flashback to his kid years that were spent in a house like this, where kinky shit and beatings were part of the daily routine. He backed against a wall recess next to a chimney, trying to keep himself out of the blowing rain while he decided what to do. There had to be possibilities here he could benefit by. 

Was about to step out and take another look down the stairs when, huh? Here came the kid, Tanya's brother, Gaga's gofer, splashing down the alley. 

What the hell was this, coming back so quick? 

He backed into the recess tight as he could and watched the kid go by, didn't get spotted, the kid focusing on hustling down the stairs. 

No clue to what this was about.  

He waited a few seconds and went over to the stairs, looked down and saw the door swing closed behind the kid. Made a quick survey of the layout down there, checked his back and went down. Ducked underneath the staircase, bending himself into the dark space under the old iron structure (hoping the metal didn't draw lightning).  

He placed himself right across from the window. Could just make them out in there through the burglar bars and rain-spattered glass. Dempsey and the kid, neither one looking too pleased about whatever they were discussing. 

And then the staircase started shaking, seriously shaking with loud footsteps ringing the iron steps, somebody big coming down. Whoever it was brought a strong gust of wind and a big swirl of rain with them. With the turbulence pushing his back, the big person burst through the door. 

A second later a shot rang out. 

The big guy was hit, grabbed his shoulder. 

What the fuck? 

                                                #          #          # 

Doc Granith took a final stitch in Curly Sasso's shoulder and reached for the iodine. 

"You already poured half the bottle in there," Curly said. 

"Just hold still," Doc said, and poured in what was left. 

I'd brought Curly up to Doc's attic nook (Doc having gunshot expertise) after Detective Dempsey had satisfied himself that he wasn't going to find any fetus in my fridge. He left in a snit after giving Curly a half-assed apology for shooting him – the incident better kept quiet for all concerned, he said – and telling me he was sure we'd be talking again soon. 

Couldn't argue that. 

Him and me both had Sickblade to tend to, coordinating that stakeout with Gaga's memorial service for Simone. 

Doc Granith dropped the empty iodine bottle into the wastebasket and nodded toward the kitchenette. "You're welcome to leave the fetus here or take it. I put it in the freezer." 

"You must've just missed him." Me meaning Dempsey. 

"If he'd come in the front I'd have bumped into him. As it was, I only just got out." 

Doc had gone down to my place after we spoke on the phone about Dempsey dropping in on Agnes Marselli. The old guy had taken the fetus out of my freezer, thinking I might have waited at Gaga's for the storm to pass when I saw how bad it was. Turns out he'd done the right thing even though I'd taken off to come here right away. 

I went over to the fridge and gently took the fetus out, stared again at the little guy in the plastic bag, his frozen eyes staring back. Things pointed to Detective Dempsey being the father, him wanting so bad to have it destroyed. But there had to be more than just that. And was it enough to kill my sister for? Of course nothing was enough for that as far as I was concerned. But I had to be sure one way or the other.  

So back to the DNA approach. 

And suddenly a light bulb flicked in my head.  

The answer was downstairs. 

After Doc got Curly bandaged up, I took him and the fetus back down to my place. Checked outside the window to make sure we weren't being snooped on, couldn't see much since it was still pouring out there.  

"You want coffee or anything?" I asked Curly. 

"I'll have an anything if you got one." 

I had a couple beers in the fridge, got one out and popped the tab and brought it over to the sofa where the big man had settled himself. 

"How's the shoulder?" I said. 

"I'll live," he said, and took a long swig. 

"I really appreciate you coming here. I didn't figure you'd get shot." 

"I hope not." Two more swigs, him draining the can. 

I brought him another one and exchanged it for the empty. "Question..." 

"What's that?" 

"Your undertaker friend... He have access to a DNA lab?" 

Curly looked over at the kitchenette counter where I'd left the fetus when we came in. He could see where this was going. "Probably. But if you're talking about a match with the little guy there, you need something to match it with." 

I nodded and turned to the sink. Picked up the dish towel Dempsey had wiped his face with earlier, careful to hold it by the corner only. "Our detective friend used this just before you got here." 

Like I said, light bulb. 

Curly squinted at the towel. "This is dangerous shit you're mixing." 

"We're talking about my sister's possible killer." 

"Your sister was working for the guy." 

"What?"  

"Undercover. So to speak. That's why the cops let this place operate – they use it to set up schmucks they're looking to nail. Drugs, Ponzi stuff, your basic graft...  Tanya knew how to get shit the cops could make cases with. Get pictures if it'd help. That's how she got me out of my mess with that shakedown fag."  

And I'm living underneath it all and didn't have a clue? That's probably how Dempsey got in here just now, had a key from Tanya or whoever. 

Something came back to me – Szu and me walking back from Khaves after she told me Tanya was pregnant. And telling me about seeing her get out of that black car that dropped her off at the corner on Tenth. 

That was an unmarked cop car. 

I looked at Curly. "So Dempsey sets her up in an apartment so they can go at it and he gets her pregnant and kills her? Makes it look like Sickblade's work?" 

"Maybe, maybe not." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"I'm not sure." He sipped his beer, slowing down now to speculate. "I'm thinking chain of command." 

                                                #          #          # 

Detective Dempsey stood under the canopy at the entrance to the upscale espresso bar on Madison Avenue and shook as much water as he could off his raincoat. He stepped inside and went straight to the back, chic ladies sipping their afternoon treats checking him out as he passed. The woman who'd summoned him here was sitting in her regular spot, facing rearward in the last booth. Dempsey hung his dripping coat on a nearby rack, murmured hello and took the seat opposite. The woman asked if he wanted anything and Dempsey said no. 

After an exchange of comments about the weather, the woman said, "I understand things are getting sticky." 

"Nothing that can't be fixed," Dempsey said, maybe a little too quickly. 

The woman studied him, putting a little extra into her normal icy stare. "Let me just make sure we're clear here. They'd better be fixed. Because if they're not, you're up the Hudson without a paddle. On your own. I believe it's called Sing-Sing. And that could be the good scenario." 

"I hear you," said Dempsey. 

"Good. Because if they are fixed, there's no limit now to where you can go as your boss's right hand." 

"Meaning?" 

 "We were just told that the president is having him vetted as Director." 

The two watched each other for a long moment across the table. 

 "Can I get you something, sir?" The hostess herself had come over and was smiling down at Dempsey. 

But he didn't get to answer. 

"Just the check please," said Doris Sherner.

        (To be continued...)