Goodnight, Irene (26 page)

How lame can you get, I chided myself — why don’t you be as direct as he is? “The truth is,” I went on, “I’ve recently met up again with someone that I knew a long time ago. There has always been some spark between us. We probably don’t have a prayer of ever making it work out — he’s a cop, and that creates some problems in itself — but the spark is there. I guess I’d like to see what happens. I should probably have my head examined for not forgetting the whole thing. And for disappointing someone like you — you’re an attractive and interesting man. And I enjoy your company.”

“Oh, Irene, stop. Next you’ll tell me I’m a nice guy, and every man hates to hear a woman say that.” He laughed. “Well, do you have any sisters? Any more like you at home?”

This brought on an idea. “I wouldn’t dare introduce you to my sister — as I said, I like you, Guy. But there are more at home, you might say. Let me think about it. I may have a friend you would like. In fact, I think you would like her very much.”

“Well, Irene, if your old flame turns out to have burned out after all, then keep me in mind. And I’m game to meet your friend. But I hope you will let me continue to help on this story you are working on?”

“More than that, Guy. I really need your help — and I would hope we could be friends.” I paused, looking at him and thinking I really
was
crazy. “I appreciate your being so understanding,” I said. “I feel kind of bad about not being able to respond the way you would have liked me to.”

“Don’t trouble yourself over it,
chère.
I’m always glad to have a friend. When I was twenty, this would have been a disaster. But at this point in life, friends are very important to me. Now, go home, and get a good night’s sleep. I’ll call you when I’ve learned more about whatever it was that frightened Mrs. Marchenko away from the bank.”

“Goodnight, Guy.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek. He smiled and said goodnight, and I got out of the car. I waited until he drove away, then waved to Pete, got in my own car, and drove off to Lydia’s, Pete right behind me.

When I got to Lydia’s, he got out of his car and came over to me. He looked at his watch. “Well, it’s midnight. How does it feel to have had a day when nobody tried to kill you?” he asked.

“Pretty good, really. The business at the house scared me, but I’ve learned my lesson there.”

“Yeah, well, I hope so.”

“You finally going home now, or am I going to see your car parked out front all night?”

“Going home. You take care, Irene.”

“You too, Pete.”

I crept into the house, only to find Lydia and Cody watching television together. At least, Cody was giving the impression of watching it.

“Well, hello there,” she called.

“Hi. How are you doing?”

“Fine, but I’m worried that you’re mad at me.”

“For calling Frank? No, I guess I should thank you for that. You were right — I was being stupid.”

“I don’t know, Irene. Later I thought about it and I figured you were just getting sick of having all of us hovering over you all the time.”

“The jury is still out on that one. Anyway — change of subject — how would you like to meet someone tall, dark, and handsome?”

“This, I take it, is a rhetorical question?”

“Let’s have lunch together on Monday. I’d like to have you meet somebody.”

“Gonna make me wait until Monday, huh? Okay, you’re on.”

“Well, I’m turning in. I’ll let you sleep with that whore of a cat of mine.”

“He is sort of like a living teddy bear, isn’t he?”

“At nineteen pounds, he could be mistaken for a bear.”

Cody gave me a look that said he understood perfectly well what I was saying, and didn’t appreciate it much. He snorted. We laughed. That really made him mad, and he jumped off her lap and trotted off to the kitchen to sniff at his food bowl.

“Well, I guess he’s going to stop sleeping with me for good now,” I said. “Goodnight.”

“‘Night.”

I was in bed with the lights out when I remembered that I’d told Frank I’d call him. It was after midnight. I decided he would be more upset if I didn’t call than if I did and woke him up. I reached over and picked up the phone by the bed. It had one of those light-up dials, so I called him in the dark. He answered on the second ring.

“Harriman.”

“How official-sounding you are, even after hours.”

“Irene? Thanks for calling. Are you okay?”

“I’m safe and sound. How about you? Did I wake you?”

“No, I was lying here awake, wondering about you, to tell the truth.”

So he was in bed, too. Something nice about that. “Hmm. Well, what did you wonder? I had Pete following me around all evening, so you couldn’t have wondered if I was safe.”

“I did anyway.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. Restless, but not so sore. What are you up to tomorrow?”

“Going to have lunch with Barbara, but nothing else planned.”

“Want to get together later?”

“Yes, I’d like that.”

“Stop by after lunch, okay?”

“Sure.”

“How was the fund-raiser?”

“Well, for some reason Mrs. Hollingsworth took a shine to me and decided to give me a personal tour of the place. It’s really something. And she’s really something.”

“Yeah, that’s what I hear. Don’t they call her the Ice Queen?”

“Yeah, I guess because she sort of overwhelms you at first. But I don’t know, I kind of like her. She can be abrupt and opinionated, and I wouldn’t want to get in her way if she wanted something. But she has a sense of humor. And she did things she didn’t need to do — she even fixed Pete up with some sandwiches and coffee when she found out he was out there watching over me.”

“Well, you’re right, that doesn’t sound too coldhearted. Poor Pete. He’s put in a long day.”

“He’s devoted to you. I don’t kid myself that he’s really there for my sake.”

“Pete’s a good man. And he likes you. He’d probably keep an eye on you anyway.”

“Are you kidding? I make him mad all the time.”

“You’d be surprised how many people you have that effect on.”

“Very funny. I’d better get some sleep if this is the kind of humor I’m going to have to put up with tomorrow.”

“Goodnight. Sweet dreams.”

“Thanks. You too.”

I hung up and lay awake for a little while. Something was nagging at me, something that had come up in the course of the day, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. I was tired and distracted by thinking about the conversation with Frank.

I fell asleep, and as ordered, had sweet dreams. Amazingly sweet for a good Catholic girl.

S
ATURDAY MORNING
I awoke when a big tomcat jumped up on my shins.

“Ouch! Cody, you did that on purpose!” He looked at me with all the innocence he could muster in his ornery cat face, and purred loudly. I reached out sleepily and scratched his ears. He came padding up along my body, stepping on a number of major organs that didn’t need to be poked about by a cat’s paw, and came to rest between my breasts. He started purring and kneading, then lifted his chin, just in case I had an urge to scratch it. I stretched and looked at the clock. It was 11
A.M.
This startled me fully awake. “Thanks for coming in, Cody. I might have slept until noon. Damn near did anyway.”

He wasn’t too happy when I rolled out of bed, but he followed me around as I got ready for lunch with Barbara. I took a quick shower and put on a pair of jeans and a soft gray T-shirt that I’m rather fond of. Lydia had left a note saying she had some errands to run and might catch me later on. I looked down at Cody with suspicion. “How soon after she left did you get lonely?”

He responded by rubbing up against my legs. “‘Love the One You’re With,’ is that it? Just like the old song.” I picked him up under his front legs and made him dance while I sang the chorus to him. He wasn’t nuts about this and scurried off when I set him down again.

This little exercise filled my head up with songs from my junior-high and high school days, starting with “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes.” As I drove toward St. Anne’s, I was singing the “Do-do-do-do” part of it at the top of my lungs. It was a warm, sunny day and I had the top down on my old Karmann Ghia, which is not much younger than the song. I stopped at a light and a guy who looked to be about my age leaned out the window of his pickup truck. I thought he was going to ask me if I was some kind of maniac, but he started singing the harmony. The light changed and we nodded and smiled, but I must admit I was a little more subdued after that.

I pulled into the visitors’ parking lot at St. Anne’s in a fine mood. On my way into the front entrance, I stopped by a newsstand and plunked in a quarter for the
Express.
I gave a start when I unfolded it and saw a picture of Hawkeyes on the front page. Near it an article entitled “Suspect Found Dead” told about police finding him after an anonymous tip. It said the cause of death was not known, which seemed odd to me. I guess I had assumed he would have been shot or knifed or something obvious. Identification pending.

As I made my way to Kenny’s room, the article and the hospital atmosphere got to me and I was downright somber by the time I got there.

Barbara smiled at me as I walked in.

“Look who’s here, Kenny. It’s Irene.”

So he was awake. He had fewer bandages, although his face was a mass of deep-purple bruises. His eyes were less swollen. His upper body was still immobilized by bandages and splints. “Hi, Kenny,” I said, wondering why I felt a knot in my stomach.

He didn’t say anything, but he looked toward me.

Barbara talked on as if he had given me a warm greeting. “Irene has been asking about you, Kenny. She’s been by here and she’s really helped me out a lot.”

Nothing. He turned his eyes away from me.

“Shall we go?” I said to Barbara.

She was staring at Kenny, who, in turn, was staring at some place on the wall.

“Yes, I suppose so,” she said after a minute. We got up and left.

“There’s a burger joint on the corner that makes terrific strawberry shakes — you up for that?”

“Sounds great,” she said. “Hospital meals have all the charm of a well-balanced diet. I’d love to eat something sinful for lunch.”

“Okay, we’ll split a big order of fries, too.”

“Sorry about Kenny. He’s been very moody today. He’s feeling frustrated and uncomfortable. It’s just a guess, but I think the fact that his dad is dead is starting to sink in.”

“I understand,” I said. Oh, O’Connor. Are you really gone?

“Remember how it was when Dad died?”

“Sure.” In the silence that followed, I thought to myself, sure I do, Barbara. I watched him ebb away from himself day by day. I sat there with him, watching the guy I always thought of as the strongest man on earth become a fragile reed — while you hid out in the frenzy of your courtship with Kenny.

But this subsided. I couldn’t blame Barbara for dealing with Dad’s illness in some way other than the way I dealt with it. We just were and probably always would be very different people. And as painful as those days with Dad were, at least he and I had them together, and I was richer for it.

“I hate myself,” she said suddenly.

“Why?”

“I’m so selfish sometimes. You stayed with him. I didn’t.”

Had I spoken my thoughts aloud? No, I knew I hadn’t. I recovered my composure and said, “It’s over, Barbara. It doesn’t matter who stayed with him. Right now all that matters is that we stick by each other.”

“I’ve thought a lot about Dad lately,” she said quietly. “I ask myself why I can stay with Kenny, but never could stay with Dad. I don’t know. Maybe it’s because Kenny has always been so dependent on me, so it’s not so scary that he needs me now. With Dad it was the other way around.”

“Like I said, it’s over — it was years ago. You need to take a break from Kenny every now and then, Barbara. Sitting around in that hospital room with him, looking at him all beat to hell — that’s bound to make you feel a little morose.”

“I guess you’re right.”

We grabbed a booth at the burger place and ordered our All-American lunch. She lightened up a little and we ate in a companionable way, mainly because I was trying out a new way of communicating with her. It involved a lot of biting of my tongue and redirecting the conversation if she started to get critical. I have to give her credit, too; I think she was pretty much trying to do the same thing.

I walked back to the hospital with her, but decided I didn’t need another trip through the halls today. “Thanks for doing this, Barbara. I know you don’t like to leave Kenny.”

“Thanks for coming by. It was nice to get away for a while.”

I started to leave, and she said, “Irene?”

“Yes?”

“I just was wondering how things are going for you.”

“What things?”

“I mean, I guess I forgot to ask earlier how you are doing with — you know — everything that has happened to you.”

“It got to me for a few days, but I think I’m doing a lot better now. It was hard for me to keep my balance, you might say. Friends help. You help.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, sure you do.”

She started to cry.

“Oh, for pity’s sakes, Barbara,” I said, putting an arm around her. “I didn’t say that to make you cry.”

She bit her lower lip and sniffed, wiping the tears away in a really ladylike way. I was proud of her. I would have used the cuff of a sweatshirt or something.

“I’m a mess,” she said.

“You just need some rest and an occasional change of scenery.”

“I’ll try to take your advice.”

That will be a first, I thought. I gave her shoulders a squeeze. I looked around and saw a pay phone. “If you’re okay now, I’m going to go make a phone call.”

“Why not come in and make your call from Kenny’s room?”

From Barbara, this was an exceptionally generous offer. But she instantly read my hesitation.

“Oh, this is a
private
call, isn’t it?” she said, breaking into a grin. “Are you calling that detective?”

“Yes,” I said, wondering why I didn’t lie.

“That’s great!”