Manhattan Is My Beat

Hey, you like junkyards?” she’d asked him on her way out the door of the video store.
    He hadn’t missed a beat. “Love ‘em.”
    Rune now knocked on Amanda’s door and the woman called, “Who’s there?”
    “Me, Rune.”
    The door opened. “Good. She’s upstairs. I talk her inta staying to see you. Didn’t want to but she is.”
    “Has she heard anything from her father?”
    “I don’t know. I didn’t ask her. I just said you were looking for him and it was important.”
    “What apartment is he in again?”
    “Three B.”
    Rune remembered that Symington lived directly above Mr. Kelly.
    Rune climbed the stairs. Amanda’s and Mr. Kelly’s floor had smelled like onions; this one smelled like bacon. She paused in the hallway. The door to 3B was six inches open.
    Rune eased forward, seeing first the hem of a skirt, then two thin legs in dark stockings. They were crossed in a way that suggested confidence. Rune started to knock but then just pushed the door open all the way. The woman on the bed turned to her. She was looking through a stack of papers.
    She had high cheekbones, a face glossy with makeup, frosted hair forced into place with a ton of spray. She looks like my mother, Rune thought, and guessed she was in her early forties. The woman wore a plaid suit and she smoked a long, dark brown cigarette. She gazed at Rune then said, “That woman downstairs … she said somebody was looking for my father. Is that you?”
    “Yes.”
    The woman turned away slowly, stubbed out the cigarette, pressing it into an ashtray. It died with a faint crushing sound. She looked Rune up and down. “My, they’re getting younger and younger.”
    “Like, excuse me?”
    “How old are you?”
    “Twenty. What’s that got to do with anything? I just want to ask you a few—”
    “What did he promise you? A car? He did that a lot. He was
always
giving away cars. Or saying he would. Porsches, Mercedes, Cadillacs. Of course then there’d be problems with the dealer. Or the registration. Or something.”
    “Cars? I don’t even—”
    “And then it came down to money. But that’s life, isn’t it? He’d promise a thousand and end up giving them a couple of hundred.”
    “What are you talking about?” Rune asked.
    Another examination. The woman got as far as Rune’s striped stockings and clunky red shoes before her face revealed her dismay. She shook her head. “You couldn’t … forgive me, but you couldn’t’ve charged all that much. What
was
your price? For the night?”
    “You think I’m a hooker?”
    “My father called them girlfriends. He actually brought one to Thanksgiving dinner once. At my house! In Westchester. Lynda with a y. You can imagine
that
scene. With my husband and children?”
    “I don’t even know your father.”
    The woman frowned, wondering if Rune might be telling the truth. “Maybe there’s some misunderstanding here.”
    “I’ll say there is.”
    “You’re not …”
    “No,” Rune said. “I’m not.”
    A faint laugh. “I’m sorry …” The woman extended her hand. “My name’s Emily Richter.”
    “I’m Rune.” She reluctantly shook it.
    “First name?”
    “And last.”
    “Actress?”
    “Sometimes.”
    “So, Rune, you really don’t know my father?”
    “No.”
    “And you’re not here for any money?”
    Not exactly, she thought. She shook her head.
    Emily continued. “What do you want to see me about?”
    “Do you know where he is?”
    “That’s what I’m trying to find out. He just vanished.”
    “I know he did.”
    Emily examined Rune’s face carefully. The woman had probing eyes and Rune looked away. Emily said, “And I have a feeling you know
why
.”
    “Maybe.”
    “Which is?”
    “I think he witnessed a murder.”
    “That man who was killed in the building?” Emily asked. “I heard about that. It was downstairs, wasn’t it?”
    “Right.”
    “And you think Father saw it happen?”
    Rune walked farther into the apartment. She sat down on a cheap dining room chair. She glanced around the place. It was very different from Mr. Kelly’s. She couldn’t figure out why at first. Then she realized. This was like a hotel room, furnished by one phone call to a store that sold everything: pictures, furniture, carpet. A lot of light wood and metallic colors and laminate. Coordinated. Suburban tack.
    What did it remind her of? Ohmygod, Richard’s place …
    Emily lit another cigarette.
    Rune glanced into the kitchen. She saw enough food