As she stepped into the street, Rune heard the man's voice right beside her.
"You're a hard person to find."
Panicked, Rune spun around.
Richard was leaning on a parking meter. The yuppie in him had been exorcized; Mr. Downtown was back. He wore boots, black jeans, and a black T-shirt. He also wore a gold hoop in his ear. She noticed that it was a clip-on. He looked tired.
"You have," he continued, "as FDR said, a passion for anonymity. I called you at the store a couple of times. I was worried about you."
"I haven't been in for a while."
"There was this party last night. I thought you might want to go."
"You didn't ask ... what's her name? Cathy the Amazon?"
"Karen." He held on to the parking meter and spiraled around it slowly. "We've only had dinner that once. Don't worry about her. We're not going out."
"That's your business. I don't care."
"Don't act so possessive."
"How can I be acting possessive if I tell you I don't care what you do with Cathy/Karen?"
"What's wrong?" He was frowning. Following her eyes to the short, dark-complected man with curly hair standing two doors away. His back was to them.
Rune inhaled with a frightened hiss. The man turned and walked past them. It wasn't Pretty Boy.
She turned back to Richard, trying to focus on him, though what she was seeing was the stupid grin of the plaster statue of Dopey or Sneezy as it disintegrated under the shotgun blast. The gun had been astonishingly loud. Sounded more like a bomb going off.
Richard took her by the shoulders. "Rune, aren't you listening to me? What's wrong?"
She backed away, eyes narrowing slowly. "Leave me alone."
"What?"
"Stay away from me. Do you want to get hurt? I'm poison. Stay away."
"What are you talking about?" He reached out and took her hand.
"No, no!" she shouted. The tears started. She hesitated, then hugged him. "Get away from me! Forget about me! Forget you ever met me!"
She turned and ran through the crowds of Greenwich Village toward Union Square.
Waiting under the art-deco steel entrance to the subway, Rune slouched against the cool tile.
She absently watched a crane, a lopsided T-shaped structure rising above an enormous new housing project on Union Square. It's just a crane, she told herself. That's all it was. Not a tool of the gods, not a huge skeleton of a magic animal. What she saw was just a construction crane. Moving slowly, under the control of a faceless union worker, lifting steel reinforcing rods for workmen in dusty jeans and jackets to install.
Magic ... hell.
She thought again about calling Manelli or Dixon.
But why should they believe her? There was probably an all-points bulletin out on her already, just like there'd been for Roy the cop after he'd stolen the loot in Manhattan Is My Beat. At least she'd had the foresight to get rid of some of the evidence: When she'd stopped by her loft to pick up the check, she'd realized she still had Spinello's accordion envelope and thrown it into the trash. If the cops found her with that, it'd be a sure conviction.
No, she'd leave town, leave the Side, leave the Magic Kingdom. Go back home. Get a job. Go to school.
Well, it was damn well about time.
Time to grow up. Forget quests ...