the number 88. The only thing he could think of was the metric caliber of a very fine antiaircraft cannon the Germans had made in World War II. He pocketed the 88, too.
“I know the boy I’d go after. That shy one, what was his name? Grant Ellis. He was always reading some book and staying off by himself. He seemed geeky to us then, but I’ll bet he’s a famous film director now, and he probably has a lot more interesting sex life than me, too.”
“Maybe he’s the kid who went up on the roof and started shooting the neighborhood dogs,” Jack Liffey said. “Did Jimmy ever rebel or run away, cause you any trouble at all?”
She shook her head. “He was too nice ever to get mutinous. When Milo turned angry, Jimmy just got quiet and withdrawn around home.” She waved one strong-looking arm, as if to erase that thought out of the air. “I don’t mean Milo was Uncle Scrooge or anything. It just happened a few times, things getting to him. He’d snap out at me or Jimmy. I know it’s hard being a man and not being able to provide.”
No shit, he thought. Hard being anyone who couldn’t take care of your loved ones. He noticed a book by the door and turned it over. It was Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique. “Do you think he’s reading this?”
“Oh, that’s mine. I must have left it the last time I was poking around in here. I’m in one of those consciousness groups, better late than never.” There was a painful dependency in her tone that he noticed for the first time, under all that brusque assurance.
“Sure,” he agreed.
“Here’s his picture.” She held the high-school annual flat and he leaned over to see a shock of hair like a question mark over the boy’s forehead and a big grin, the kind of open smile that rarely made it past childhood. He was a handsome kid. She purposely pressed her shoulder against him, and he waited a moment before pulling away so he wouldn’t seem skittish. A little flirtation he could always handle, but he began to wonder why he’d been hired and who had recommended him.
On the closet floor he found an old leg cast with a lot of names on it, a heap of sports shoes, and a box of old tape cassettes. He felt the shirt and pants pockets but found nothing.
“What’s your next step?” she asked.
“I’ll have to look it up in Chapter Three of How to Be a Detective. ”
“I saw that movie. Really, I’d like to know.”
He shrugged. “Okay, you’re paying. You’re going to give me the names of some of his friends and classmates and I’m going to talk to them.”
“Sounds good. Let’s get started.”
“Pardon me?”
“I’m coming along. Don’t worry, I’ll wait in the car if it’d cramp your style to have me listen while you’re interviewing people.” She seemed to be filling the door, as if he’d have to throw her a body block to get out of the room.
“Uh-uh. It doesn’t work that way.”
“Remember, I’m paying. Jack—can I call you Jack?”
“It’s better than Veronica.”
“I’ve been asleep for twenty years. You know what I mean? I quit college to support Milo through grad school. I took a class or two while Jimmy was growing up, but it wasn’t the way I figured my life would go. I wanted it all, I wanted to do it, not just hear about it. The first week Jimmy was gone, this thing was giving me a serious case of the bads, but then I just told myself I wasn’t going to let it go until it blesses me. Jimmy’s not in that much danger, not really. He’s probably just shacked up with one of those poor girls the Theodelphians use to get their hooks into their converts. See, that’s what you were keeping from me, isn’t it? I know who those creeps are. I can use this thing to help Jimmy and me both. I can feel it, it’s a kick start for my life, and I’m going along with you for the ride. I pay, I come along—that’s the rules.” She set her fists on her hips and he found the determination made her strangely attractive in
“I know the boy I’d go after. That shy one, what was his name? Grant Ellis. He was always reading some book and staying off by himself. He seemed geeky to us then, but I’ll bet he’s a famous film director now, and he probably has a lot more interesting sex life than me, too.”
“Maybe he’s the kid who went up on the roof and started shooting the neighborhood dogs,” Jack Liffey said. “Did Jimmy ever rebel or run away, cause you any trouble at all?”
She shook her head. “He was too nice ever to get mutinous. When Milo turned angry, Jimmy just got quiet and withdrawn around home.” She waved one strong-looking arm, as if to erase that thought out of the air. “I don’t mean Milo was Uncle Scrooge or anything. It just happened a few times, things getting to him. He’d snap out at me or Jimmy. I know it’s hard being a man and not being able to provide.”
No shit, he thought. Hard being anyone who couldn’t take care of your loved ones. He noticed a book by the door and turned it over. It was Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique. “Do you think he’s reading this?”
“Oh, that’s mine. I must have left it the last time I was poking around in here. I’m in one of those consciousness groups, better late than never.” There was a painful dependency in her tone that he noticed for the first time, under all that brusque assurance.
“Sure,” he agreed.
“Here’s his picture.” She held the high-school annual flat and he leaned over to see a shock of hair like a question mark over the boy’s forehead and a big grin, the kind of open smile that rarely made it past childhood. He was a handsome kid. She purposely pressed her shoulder against him, and he waited a moment before pulling away so he wouldn’t seem skittish. A little flirtation he could always handle, but he began to wonder why he’d been hired and who had recommended him.
On the closet floor he found an old leg cast with a lot of names on it, a heap of sports shoes, and a box of old tape cassettes. He felt the shirt and pants pockets but found nothing.
“What’s your next step?” she asked.
“I’ll have to look it up in Chapter Three of How to Be a Detective. ”
“I saw that movie. Really, I’d like to know.”
He shrugged. “Okay, you’re paying. You’re going to give me the names of some of his friends and classmates and I’m going to talk to them.”
“Sounds good. Let’s get started.”
“Pardon me?”
“I’m coming along. Don’t worry, I’ll wait in the car if it’d cramp your style to have me listen while you’re interviewing people.” She seemed to be filling the door, as if he’d have to throw her a body block to get out of the room.
“Uh-uh. It doesn’t work that way.”
“Remember, I’m paying. Jack—can I call you Jack?”
“It’s better than Veronica.”
“I’ve been asleep for twenty years. You know what I mean? I quit college to support Milo through grad school. I took a class or two while Jimmy was growing up, but it wasn’t the way I figured my life would go. I wanted it all, I wanted to do it, not just hear about it. The first week Jimmy was gone, this thing was giving me a serious case of the bads, but then I just told myself I wasn’t going to let it go until it blesses me. Jimmy’s not in that much danger, not really. He’s probably just shacked up with one of those poor girls the Theodelphians use to get their hooks into their converts. See, that’s what you were keeping from me, isn’t it? I know who those creeps are. I can use this thing to help Jimmy and me both. I can feel it, it’s a kick start for my life, and I’m going along with you for the ride. I pay, I come along—that’s the rules.” She set her fists on her hips and he found the determination made her strangely attractive in
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