The Iron Sickle by Martin Limon Page B

“I’ll fetch her,” she said.
    “Never mind,” Mr. Kill told her, holding his hand out to stop her. “I’ll do it.”
    He crossed the soggy carpet of the barroom and trotted upstairs. Ernie and I followed.
    The accommodations up here weren’t nearly as luxurious as downstairs. There was a tiny bathroom with mold-smeared tile and cracked metal plumbing. At the opposite end of the hallway, Mr. Kill slid open an oil-paper covered door.
    Thick vinyl flooring lay hidden beneath sweat-stained sleeping mats and thick cotton comforters. The room reeked of perfume and flatulence. One of the tufts of curled hair sticking out of the comforters was blonde. Mr. Kill pulled back the blanket. The woman beneath wore brown wool long johns. She pulled her legs up and huggedherself. Then her eyes popped open. Instantly, she sat up, her cute figure showing itself even through the thick material.
    “
Wei kurei
?” she said in a childlike, whining voice, rubbing her eyes. Why this way?
    Mr. Kill spoke to her in soothing Korean. “Miss Na, I’m sorry to bother you.” He showed her his badge. “I just have a few questions.” The girl continued to rub her eyes and started to rise. “No need to get up,” Kill said, holding out his palm. “Two nights ago, you sat with Mr. Choi. I think he drank quite a bit.”
    “Yes,” she said. “Can I go to the bathroom?” Miss Na didn’t seem at all surprised to see Mr. Kill in her boudoir. Probably other men barged their way in here at odd hours. The other girls were starting to rouse themselves.
    “Of course you can go to the bathroom,” Mr. Kill said, “in a moment. Did Mr. Choi take off his jacket or did he wear it?”
    “He wore it,” she said. “It’s cold down there.
Ajjima
won’t pay for heat.” She hugged herself again and started to rise. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
    Mr. Kill held her shoulder. “In a moment,” he said, “after you’ve answered my questions.”
    She hammered a small fist against the wall and spoke once again in her small, whining voice. “But I have to
go
.”
    “What happened to Mr. Choi’s badge, the one that was clipped to his lapel?”
    Miss Choi closed her eyes and stomped her foot. “I have to go.”
    “As soon as you answer my question.”
    She shook her head in frustration. Silky blonde strands swayed beneath brown roots. “I didn’t want to do that,” she said.
    “Do what?”
    “I didn’t want to take the badge.” She stared up at him as if he were stupid. “But
ajjima
said I had to.”
    “Why?”
    “
Why
? Some man, a strange man, was offering her money. She took it.”
    “This man asked her to steal Mr. Choi’s badge?”
    “That’s what she said.”
    “Did you see this man?”
    “
No-oo
. Can I go to the bathroom now?”
    She pushed past Mr. Kill. He let her go. After poking her feet into plastic sandals, she stomped down the hallway. The door to the bathroom only closed partially so we all stood there and listened to her tinkle. As we did so, the other women scooted away from us, various expressions of suspicion and alarm on their faces. Mr. Kill slid the door shut.
    When Miss Na returned, he said, “So while this Mr. Choi was drinking, you slipped the badge off his lapel?”
    Miss Na stomped her foot again. “I didn’t want to tell you.”
    “You had no choice,” Mr. Kill said soothingly. “You had to go to the bathroom.”
    The girl pouted.
    “How did you get the badge?” Mr. Kill asked.
    “It was easy,” Miss Na told. “Choi
ajjosi
gets so drunk.” Her button nose crinkled.
    We left the bedroom and hurried downstairs. The older woman had changed into a long velvet house dress, combed her hair back and sat at the bar smoking. When Mr. Kill walked up to her she said, “He didn’t tell me his name.” Kill stood next to her, his hands in his pockets, glaring at her. As if discussing the weather, she continued. “He offered me twenty thousand
won
if I would get Mr. Choi’s badge for him.”
    “How