A Body to die for

with me down Henry Street. Jack said, “I put the knife in your pocketbook.”
    “You what?” I asked.
    “It’s wrapped in a towel—it won’t ruin your stuff.”
    I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He must have done it when I was looking for a cigarette. “You realize if I don’t take this to the cops I’m as guilty of stealing it as you are,” I said.
    “I don’t think Falcone should have the knife.” He quickly added, “It’s not my knife, Wanda.”
    “But you recognize it.”
    “I don’t,” he insisted.
    “You lie like a rug.”
    “I thought it would help your investigation. Give you the edge over the cops.”
    I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Solving murder isn’t like playing in a tennis tournament, Jack.”
    I peeked inside my purse. It had felt a tad heavy. Sure enough, there was a towel shoved in there. Tiny red drops dotted the white terry cloth. This would give me something to work with. The murder weapon is usually a pretty major clue.
    “What the fuck am I thinking?” I asked myself out loud. No wonder Falcone hadn’t asked about the knife. I took a look at Jack. He was a cutie. Whipped, but cute. “I know you didn’t do it because that’d be too obvious.”
    “I swear to God, Wanda. I did not kill Barney.” Jack’s blue eyes beamed into mine. “If Ameleth did, though, we should know before the cops.”
    “Not smart to take the knife, Jack,” I said.
    “It was an impulsive mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking. When I pulled it out, blood spurted from the wound. It was horrible. I lost my sense of reason.” He seemed sincere. And scared.
    I thought it over. “I’ll find the killer for you,” I offered.
    “Why?” he asked incredulously.
    The money.The curiosity. The glitter of it all. “I hate to see an innocent man railroaded for a murder he didn’t commit.” And Jack was right. I didn’t mind going up against Falcone. A chick detective. My first. “But if Ameleth is guilty, no special treatment.”
    Jack and I agreed to meet at my Times Square office the next afternoon. That’d give me a chance to tell Alex Beaudine, my partner and former live-in flame, what happened. It’d also give me a chance to examine the knife more closely. I got a vibe. A sudden flash of ken that told me this was too big—that if I didn’t walk away, my life will change forever. Whenever I get that feeling, I usually do walk away—about a week later with lots of money in my pocket. The higher the risk, the bigger the potential gain. Or loss. But I never lose, I reminded myself quickly.
    I told Jack I knew a good all-night liquor store in the neighborhood. He looked pretty bad for the healthiest man I’d ever met. He shook his head. “Thanks, but I want to be alone,” he said solemnly. “I’ll just go for a run.” And on this note, he hopped off like a big rabbit. His lithe legs carried him quickly, and he disappeared down the dark street in a few seconds. I checked my watch: 2:00 A.M. The night was still young. I went in search of a belt (of tequila) and a burrito.
    I found both. I had to go into Manhattan to get them. I ended up taking the subway in the middle of the night after all. Knowing the knife was in my purse .4 was strangely comforting. I didn’t have to use it once. ?
    I made it home by four. I splurged on a cab back to Brooklyn. My street was dark at that hour. Most of the other streets in America were, too. I entered my new resident brownstone (which was pretty much like my f old brownstone in Park Slope), and quietly unlocked my second-floor apartment door. Otis dashed outside as soon as I opened it. The faint waft of cat piss snuck up my nostrils. Have I mentioned that my cat had developed a slight bladder control problem? Max, I who despised Otis, insists she was doing it out of spite or because she hated Syd, Max’s tabby. I think Otis acted out of jealousy: She just didn’t like Max’s spending more time in my lap than she did.
    So Otis ran out into the hall. I let her go. Some lonely time in the stuffy hallway might make her think ' twice before she squatted on my carpet again. I adore her, but even I didn’t want my apartment smelling like the F train.
    The light from the hallway made a wedge of yellow in the blackness of my living room. I pushed the door wide open and took a step inside. I closed the door behind me. I breathed in the darkness. Just as I reached for the light switch, a sticky palm covered my mouth. Another