Dangerous Women

“Part of what I do involves not getting caught,” Frank said with a slight shrug. “Another part is knowing who it is that’s out there looking for me.”

“How long have you known?” she asked. “About me?”

Frank downed the remainder of his beer and laughed, low and quiet, his face barely creased. “Probably long before you knew about me,” he said. “Number one in your class, both high school and college. Went through law school like flames through an old barn. Passed up the big firms and the bigger dollars, wanted no part of that world. It wasn’t what you were about and wouldn’t lead you to where you needed to go. Making partner didn’t matter to you. Getting convictions was what you were chasing and you did get plenty of those.”

“You could have brought it all to an end,” she said. “Could have eased me out of your picture. Wouldn’t have taken you much.”

“There was no profit in it,” Frank said. “And that made it not worth doing.”

“And what was the profit in killing my sister?” Joey asked. She was surprised at how calm she felt, how relaxed her body and ma

“Someone thought she was a threat and paid to have that threat removed,” Frank said. “It was nothing but a payout for me.”

“How much?” Joey asked. “How much money did my sister put inside your pockets?”

“Fifteen thousand,” Frank said. “Plus expenses. All in cash and all up front. That’s about what you average in take home to nail a twenty-five-to-life sentence.”

Joey took a deep breath, fighting off the visions of her sister’s face, closing out the sounds of her happy laughter, erasing the sight of her paintings lining the entryway of her parents’ home. She swallowed back the angry rumble in her stomach and the acid burn building in her throat. She had to keep herself emotionally detached from any and all feelings, ease her mind from the shadowed darkness of an empty bar and into the glaring light of an open courtroom. She had her prey in her sights, had him on the witness stand, had him where he could not ever run again. All she had left to do now, as she had done so many times before, across so many years, was to go in for the close. Nail the conviction and have the verdict rendered.

“They thought she was a witness to a hit and run,” Joey said. “That she had seen enough to get a good look at a make and model, maybe even an outside chance at a partial plate number. But they were wrong. She was walking away from the accident, not toward it. By the time she heard the crash and turned around, the victim was down and dead and the car was one full block away.”

“She was on that block,” Frank said. “And the only person near the scene that the cops even bothered to talk to. That was all they needed to put a call in to me.”

“It was a call that never needed to be made,” Joey said. “All they had to do was get their hands on the police report. My sister was what the cops call a DE. A dead end. She gave them nothing because she had nothing to give. But that nothing was more than enough to have her stamped for death. Some i

“I don’t pick who I work for,” Frank said. “They pick me.”

“They pick you because they know the job will get done,” Joey said. “It’ll be clean and quiet. And almost impossible to trace, either back to you, or the money or to the voice at the other end of the telephone.”

“Not so impossible,” Frank said. “Or you wouldn’t be sitting here.”

“I made it my business to find you,” she said. “I made it my life.”

“I always knew you would,” Frank said. “All these years I knew you were out there and I knew you would never stop.”

“There were times I wished you would have stopped me,” Joey said, sadness etching her words. “Brought it all to an end. For you and for me.”

“I never gave it any thought,” Frank said.

Joey took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a brief moment. This was always the hardest part of the Q &A for her, asking the short, direct queries that were designed to bring a victim’s face to the jury. Keeping the victims alive, making them a presence in a courtroom often dominated by a charming, well-ma

The bartender turned off the silent television and pulled the switch on the blue-glow lights behind the rows of whiskey bottles. He stared over at Frank and Joey, his middle-aged face weary and void of any expression. He was short, with a squat frame that was balanced by two broad arms, a long line of aging purple tattoos ru

“Why did she let you into her apartment?” Joey asked.

“What story did you tell her that made her trust you enough to do that?”

“Why don’t you call her by her name?” Frank asked, returning the question with one of his own. “She’s not just another victim. She’s your sister.”

“You don’t deserve to hear her name,” Joey said, her low voice a venomous hiss.

“She had a good heart,” Frank said. “Like a lot of kids her age. I told her I had lost my wallet and needed to make a phone call. Try to reach my girlfriend and have her come pick me up.”

“She trusted you,” Joey said.

“Most people do,” Frank said. “You would have, too.”

“What if she didn’t have a good heart?” Joey asked. “What if she had just said no and kept walking or offered to give you money for a cab? What would have happened then?”

“It never got to that,” Frank said. “It seldom does.”

“What if it had?” Joey asked. “Would you have killed her on the street?”

“Only if I was really eager to get caught,” Frank said. “Which I wasn’t.”

“When did she know?” Joey asked. “That a phone call wasn’t what you were after.”

“Why are you doing this?” Frank asked. “You know everything you need to know. Skip the details. It’ll make it easier to live with yourself. No matter how tonight ends up being played out.

“When did she know?” Joey asked, her question now more pointed and direct, her anger residing just below the surface.

“We were in the apartment and she led me to the small dining room, turned to me and pointed out the phone,” Frank said. “That was the first time she saw the gun.”

“Did she cry?” Joey asked. “Or scream for help?”

“No,” Frank said.

“Did she say anything to you at all?”

“She asked me not to rape her,” Frank said.

“And that’s why you didn’t?”

“You know better than to ask that,” Frank said. “I didn’t rape her because I don’t rape anybody. I was there to do a job. I did it and then I left. If it means anything, I wasn’t looking to cause her any great pain. I did it the best I could and as fast as I could.”

“She say anything before she died?” Joey asked.

“No,” Frank said. “She just closed her eyes and waited for it to happen.”

“Did you ever think of not doing it?” Joey said. “Didn’t seeing that sweet, i

“What difference would my answer to that make to you?” Frank said. “It doesn’t matter what I thought or how I felt. All that matters is what I did.”