A Body to die for

“You’d think the people around here would be more generous with the local riffraff.”
    “My purse,” I said, panicky. Someone had stolen my purse with the three grand and the gun inside. “Fuck!” I screamed.
    “Calm yourself down, Wanda,” Alex said and handed me my bag. I exhaled loudly. The tip of my broken rib stabbed my lung and I thought I might die from the pain. “I hope your day was as eventful as mine,” Alex bragged.
    “Can’t you see I’m hurting?” I rummaged in my bag. The money and the gun were still there. I scooped up the change at my feet and chucked it in my purse. Good for one subway token. “What time is it?”
    “Time for you to go home, shower, and meet me and my brand spanking new lady love at Teresa’s in one hour. Bring Max. We’ll double.”
    It was getting dark. Twilight in June meant 8 p.m. Max must be home from the bank. “Damn,” I muttered.
    “Now, Wanda. We’ve discussed this a million times,” Alex said. “You know I’ll never get over you completely, but you’ve got to give me a chance to find happiness with another woman.”
    “Everytime you get a new girlfriend, I get beat up,” I said. “And don’t flatter yourself—that’s not why I’m upset.” It was too late to call Jack at the Detention Center. I made a mental note to never take that much Valium again. At least not in the middle of an investigation. “Just shut up and help me home.” Max would take care of me. I let a small sob seep out of my lips. Alex was on the Planet of Love—too far away to hear my whine of misery. He lifted me to my feet. The slightest movement killed.
    “Is there something wrong?” he finally asked. His eyebrows made accent marks of concern. I felt I might cry on his shoulder, but I was too manly.
    I shrugged off his help. I could stand on my own two feet. “I’m fine.”
    “Cool!” he exclaimed. “I’ll see you in an hour. Don’t be late.” He giggled like an idiot, waved goodbye, and jogged into the Brooklyn night.
    I limped the four blocks home. Mr. Burpe, my ancient Irish landlord, was sitting in his regular post on the stoop. He lived in the apartment under ours. He sat at his post all day long, smoking Pall Malls. His wife, Mrs. Burpe, never left the house, except to scream at her husband for leaving her alone inside all day. I’d only seen her a couple times. A frightening sight with her thinning shock of white hair and balloonish orange housecoat, she avoids contact with humans—not that I’d seek out her company. But it was impossible to avoid Mr. Burpe. As I struggled up the stoop, he said, “You made a lot of noise up there last night. I told you about that noise. Mrs. Burpe needs her sleep or she’s cranky the whole next day.” As demonstration, we heard her shrill voice come barreling out the open window of her apartment. “Is that her? You tell her to shut up or we’ll call the police.” I saw a shadowy form move inside their apartment window. I shivered from fear. She had wrinkles like other people have skin.
    “I’m sorry about the noise,” I said, “but if I don’t get upstairs m the next five seconds, I might throw up.”
    Mr. Burpe cleared the way, and I forced myself up the stairs. Otis dashed between my legs as I opened the apartment door. I had to twist slightly to avoid falling down. Oh, the pain of it all. Max sat on the floor, unpacking his boxes. We’d agreed to let each other take care of our own stuff. He was more than halfway done. I hadn’t started. I could tell he was hoping I’d fall so behind he’d be justified in yelling at me about it. He looked up at me standing in the doorway. “Your fucking cat pissed on my sweater box,” he said.
    “Max,” I said. “I love you.” Then I started to cry. I’d taken a beating investigating this case. Despite my padding, I was pretty banged up and I needed someone to be nice to me. “Even parts of the massage hurt,” I muttered.
    His expression changed from annoyance to confusion. He gracefully bounded toward me. He put his arm around my shoulder. His skin was warm and dry. I’d sweated like a beer bottle all the way home. “You’ve got twigs in your hair,” he said, kissing my face. He hugged me closer. I yelped. “What happened to you?” he asked. I told him about my hell day. The stiffness in my neck from sleeping on a stoop was getting worse. Max led me into the bedroom and slowly peeled me naked. I’d been naked twice today. My personal record was