by Jan Burke
“So you think he’s in danger, too?”
“What do you mean, ‘too’?”
She hesitated. Apparently she was figuring out that by asking me about the car, she had as much as admitted that she’d seen him yesterday.
“You really hate him, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t,” I lied, “I just felt protective of you after the divorce. I didn’t like how he treated you, or all the hurtful things he said to you then. I feel protective of you now, Barbara. I don’t want you to get hurt again.”
She mulled this over.
“Kenny wasn’t himself then, Irene. He was having a crisis.”
Right, I thought. Temporary insanity. Unfortunately, Barbara took this silence as meaning she needed to keep selling me on him.
“I know he said some awful things, but he’s taken them all back. He’s begged my forgiveness.”
I’ll bet he has, I thought. Out loud I said, “So you’ve seen him?”
More hesitation. “He was here yesterday. Irene, the poor man is scared out of his wits. He’s upset about his dad, but he’s sure someone’s after him, too.”
“He thinks someone wanted to kill both of them?”
“Yes. Yes, exactly.”
“Did he say why he thought someone would want to kill him?” Impatience was creeping back into my tone.
“You don’t believe him?”
“Yes, I believe him. Not a doubt in my mind that’s true.”
This appeased her. “Well, then you can see why I couldn’t refuse to help him in his hour of need.”
His hour of need? Kenny had a lifetime of need.
“But did he tell you why they are trying to kill him?” I pressed.
“No, Irene, he didn’t want to put me in danger. He told me that he had already lost his father and he couldn’t stand to lose me. That’s why he didn’t want to leave the car in front of my house. He said everyone knew that deep down he still loved me, and that this is the first place they’d look for him.”
“But it was okay to park the car next door to my house?”
“Kenny said it would be safe there.”
Well, he was right. The car was safe. It was Frank and I who almost got in line right behind O’Connor at the Pearly Gates.
“Irene?”
“Yeah, Barbara?” I was suddenly feeling weary and depressed.
“I’m really sorry putting the car there caused you trouble.”
“You had no way of knowing. Don’t worry about it. Where’s Kenny now?”
“I promised not to tell.”
“Barbara, it’s literally a matter of life and death. Please tell me.”
“I’m his wife. You can’t make me testify against him.”
“You’re his ex-wife, and we aren’t in a courtroom. If you’re happy he’s come back, more power to you. I mean that. Be happy. But for God’s sakes, Barbara, someone is trying to kill me, so tell me where he is.”
“They weren’t trying to kill you, Irene. They were after Kenny.”
I wasn’t getting anywhere. I decided to pick up a rather cruel cue stick and play dirty pool.
“Barbara, what would our mother say to do?”
I knew this would get to her. I prayed my mother would forgive me. After all, as Barbara and I used to say when we were children, she started it.
“I’ll think about it. What was that policeman’s name?”
“Detective Frank Harriman.”
“I’ll tell you what. If I see Kenny, I’ll tell him what happened to your window, and that you think they’re trying to kill you. I’ll ask him if it’s okay to tell you where he is.”
This idea did not seem likely to bear fruit. But it was obvious that if Mom couldn’t make her do it, I couldn’t begin to budge her out of this position.
“Okay, but please think about blood being thicker than water and all that. I need you, too, Barbara.”
That really confused her. “Where are you anyway? I just tried calling you at work and they said you wouldn’t be in today. Are you at home?”
“No, but you can leave a message on my machine or get in touch with me through Detective Harriman. I’m — I’m going to be moving around a lot. I’ll keep checking in with you, okay?”
“Okay,” she said uncertainly.
“I have to handle it this way, Barbara.”
“I know… Irene?”
“Yeah.”
“Is there going to be a funeral for O’Connor?”
I thought of the men with forceps and plastic bags, but shook it off.
“I guess that will be up to Kenny. But he’s probably too upset to deal with that right now.”
“I’d like to have — I don’t know — a wake or something for him.”
“He’d like that, I’m sure. We may have to wait awhile, though, because of the investigation.”
“Yeah, well, anyway, I don’t know how to give a wake, do you?”
Ah, the plight of second generation Irish-Americans — proud of the culture but not knowing near enough about it. Granddad would have known. Dad may have. We had never been to a wake.
“No, Barbara, but call Great Aunt Mary. She can tell you how.”
“Well, I’m sure there’s more to it than Chieftains’ records and a bunch of booze.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
“I’m going to miss him.”
“Me too.”
“Oh, of course.”
Of course, I thought.
“Take care of yourself, Barbara.”
“You too, Irene.”
What an ungodly mess, I thought, as I hung up the phone.
I TOOK THE SPARE KEY from the envelope and watched the street from a window at the front of the house. No dark blue Lincolns or shiny red Corvettes. Still, I felt scared going out of the house.
I climbed into the Karmann Ghia and headed for the Thai section of town, feeling a craving for satay and pad Thai. But as I drove, I decided I should let Frank know what Barbara had said, and stopped at a phone booth to invite him to join me. I called his work number.
“Homicide,” said a deep male voice.
“Frank Harriman, please.”
I found myself watching the street while I waited for Frank to pick up the phone.
“Harriman.”
“Frank?”
His tone was abrupt. “Where are you calling from?”
“A pay phone in Little Thailand.”
He relaxed. “I was going to call you in a minute anyway. Are you getting antsy?”
“A little. Frank, are you having Barbara followed?”
A pause. “Yes.”
“Good. I don’t think Kenny’s with her now, but I’m almost certain she’ll be in touch with him later today.”
“You’ve talked to her?”
“Yes. Can you meet me for lunch at the Thai Royal over on Broadway and Pacific?”
“Give me about twenty minutes.”
I WAS FAIRLY SURE I wasn’t followed to the restaurant. It was about eleven-thirty, and Sam, the owner, was just setting up in preparation for the noon crowd.
“Miss Kelly!” he greeted me. Then his face fell. “We were very sorry to hear about Mr. O’Connor. We liked him very much. I know you have lost a good companion.”
“Thanks, Sam. Can you get me one of your private booths? And when a tall gentleman with scratch marks on the right side of his face comes in, will you please show him to my table?”
Sam beamed at the thought of my meeting a gentleman, scratches or no, and happily showed me to a booth behind a curtain made of wooden beads. He and Roselynn, his wife, had been concerned about my single status for years.
We talked for a while, then he brought me a Tsingtao beer. As I drank it, I watched the restaurant start to fill up.
Frank was late.
7
THE PLACE WAS PACKED and humming with the tension of people who only have forty-five minutes left for lunch. I was just getting fidgety again when Sam walked ba
ck, and told me I had a phone call.
We hurried our way through the tables into the hot and steamy kitchen, where Roselynn waved to me from a counter where she was cutting fresh vegetables. Sam handed the receiver to me.
“Frank?”
“Irene? They found Kenny. Somebody’s worked him over pretty good. I’m at St. Anne’s Hospital. Can you meet me here? If not, I’ll meet you later at Lydia’s.”
I told Frank I would meet him in the ER waiting room and hung up. When I turned around, Sam was holding a white grocery-store bag with two Styrofoam containers in it.
“You’ve got to have lunch. Lucky for me, you always order the same thing every time.”
I couldn’t turn him down, and when he adamantly refused payment, I promised to bring Frank in to meet him someday soon.
St. Anne’s is in downtown Las Piernas, not far from the old Wrigley Building, the gargoyle roost that houses the Express. It’s run by the Sisters of Mercy. Like the Wrigley Building, one part of St. Anne’s was built in the late 1920s, but some Las Piernas millionaire that no one had ever heard of before died and left a large part of his fortune to the place, so they had added new wings. They were not only very up-to-date in facilities and equipment, but they were known as one of the best trauma centers in the area. That and the nun factor gave it a good reputation. It also made its emergency room one of the busiest for miles around.
Despite traffic and my tendency to check the rearview mirror a lot, I got to St. Anne’s fairly quickly. Frank was standing outside the ER entrance, waiting for me.
“Hi,” he said, when I got nearer. “They’re working on him, not much we can learn right now. Your sister’s in there, too. She found him. My partner, Pete Baird, was two steps behind her and was able to radio for help or I don’t think Kenny would have made it. Still not sure he will. Whoever it was really beat the living hell out of him.”
“How’s Barbara?” I asked, anxious to find her.
“Your sister has seen something that would be pretty disturbing to anybody. It’s even worse when somebody you care about gets messed up like this. The doctor gave her a sedative; she was… well, she was really upset. Had a little difficulty getting her to leave the ER so they could work on Kenny.” He paused and asked, “What’s in the bag?”
“Lunch,” I said, feeling more than a little bit foolish. “I didn’t want to leave it in the car. It’s a gift of the restaurant owner, who was a great fan of O’Connor’s. He insisted.”
“Sorry about keeping you waiting there. You know how it is. Why don’t you try to coax your sister into coming outside? I’d like to ask her some questions, and I think it would be easier if we were away from all the other people in the waiting room.”
I handed him the bag and went into the waiting room. There wasn’t the crowd that would be there on a Friday or Saturday night, but every chair was taken. Barbara was leaning against a wall near a doorway, twisting a Kleenex to shreds. She looked up at me and I could see she had been crying hard. Fresh tears started as I approached. I put my arms around her. She leaned on my shoulder and I felt her heaving with quiet sobs. I heard myself softly comforting her with the same singsong — “shh, shh, shh” — sound our mother used to make as she held us when we cried as children. I reached into my purse and brought out a fresh packet of Kleenex. She nodded her thanks and straightened up and blew her nose.
“Let’s go outside for a minute, Barbara. There’s someone who needs to talk to you out there.”
“I… can’t… leave… him,” she said, sharp breaths between each word.
I put my arm around her and walked her over to an elderly nun who was at the admitting counter.
“Excuse me, Sister?”
“Yes?” She had gentle, knowing eyes that took in the situation in a glance.
“This is Mrs. Kenneth O’Connor, whose husband was just admitted a little while ago. I’m her sister and I’d like to take her out to the courtyard for a while. Would it be possible to have someone let her know when her husband comes out of the emergency room?”
“Of course,” she said, smiling gently at Barbara. “I promise to come out there myself just as soon as there’s word on his condition. I’m Sister Theresa. Just ask for me if you need anything.”
The Sisters of Mercy had lived up to their name.
Barbara allowed me to lead her out into the courtyard, but as we got to the double glass doors, she stopped me.
“You shouldn’t have lied to that nun.”
“I didn’t lie to that nun.”
“Yes, you did. You told her I was Mrs. Kenneth O’Connor.”
“In the eyes of the Church, you still are.”
It made me feel good that she’d hassle me over anything; it was a sign she was capable of being distracted, however momentarily, from the problems at hand. And here I was, leading her out to talk with a cop who would make her rehash it all. I could feel her tense up when she saw Frank. She stared down at the ground the rest of the way over to the concrete table and bench where he sat waiting for us. As we approached, he stood up and said, “Mrs. O’Connor, we haven’t really been introduced. I’m Frank Harriman.”
Barbara nodded her head without making any eye contact.
“I know. You’re Irene’s detective.”
I made a sign to Frank not to pursue it for a moment.
“Why don’t we sit down for a while?” he said. “Are you hungry? Your sister has brought some lunch.”
She looked up and glared at me. “You went out and bought lunch before coming here?”
“No, Barbara,” I said, wondering when the sedative was going to kick in. “I was at a restaurant when Detective Harriman — Frank — was kind enough to call and let me know you needed me.” Not the exact truth, but she didn’t seem to question it — or how Frank would know I was at a particular restaurant. In any case, this story of Frank’s searching for her sister for her at least got her to look up at his face.
“That was very kind of you,” she said to Frank.
“No problem.”
No one was going to make a move toward the food. Frank was the only possible candidate for an appetite at that moment, and he wasn’t diving in.
The courtyard was private and serene. It was bordered by carefully tended beds of bright-colored flowers and tall trees. A hedge with an opening into a walkway to the front entrance shielded the yard from the parking lot. We sat there listening to birds and smelling the now chilled satay and pad Thai.
Barbara seemed to be growing calmer. Frank asked me if he had ever told me the story of the time he was called out to rescue a lady who was stuck in a dog door. I said no.
“It was out in Bakersfield, oh, about midnight one night. The owner of the house was this lady’s former boyfriend. He had tried to break up with her for two weeks. She refused to let go, as they say, and on four other occasions within these two weeks she had shown up drunk on his doorstep. He’d open the door and she’d try to shove her way in, calling him every name in the book, then crying on his shoulder and telling him she couldn’t live without him. At first he felt so guilty about hurting her that he put up with it. But this particular night he just got tired of it, so he didn’t open the door. She went around back.”
“And tried to get in through the dog door?”
“Right. And, well, let’s just say she was a little more fully developed than the dog. The guy only had a beagle. Anyway, she was stuck between her hips and bra-line.”
He looked over to see if this was offensive to Barbara, but to my amazement she was sitting there with a little grin on her face.
“How’d you get her out?” I asked.
“Well, by the time I got there, she’d sobered up quite a bit, and felt more than a little embarrassed. I asked the guy if he had any mineral oil or petroleum jelly and a sheet. He brought in a bottle of baby oil and a sheet. I told her I’d need her to take off her blouse, and we’d put the sheet over her for the sake of modesty. She said she was past worrying about mo
desty, her back and knees were killing her and would we please hurry up and get her the hell out of the dog door.
“So we stripped her from the waist up, and lubricated her skin and as much of the door liner as we could. I went out and around through the backyard gate so that I could pull from the other side. I’m sure it didn’t feel great, but eventually she slid right out. She thanked me, took her blouse and bra and told the guy she never wanted to see him again.”
“I’ll never feel like the most desperate woman in the world again,” Barbara said.
“Frank and I knew each other when I worked in Bakersfield,” I said.
“Oh,” said Barbara, “I didn’t know you were such old friends.”
“We haven’t been in touch in a long time.”
Barbara looked between us. “Oh.”
“I know you’ve really had a shock today, Mrs. O’Connor,” Frank said gently.
She nodded. Tears welled up in her eyes and she looked back over toward the glass doors, but she stayed put.
“Did Mr. O’Connor call you today?”
She turned back to Frank. “You mean Kenny? Yes, he called. He said he needed me to give him a ride to a new hiding place. Someone was trying to kill him.”
Frank waited.
“He said he couldn’t tell me more over the phone because the cops — I mean, the police — might have the phone tapped.”
“Why was he afraid of the police?”
“I don’t know. I think he was afraid of everybody. He was just so scared. Anyway, he asked me to come and give him a ride, since he didn’t have his car—” She looked at me and reddened. She turned back to Frank. “I guess you already know that.”
“Did he mention the names of anyone who might be causing him trouble?”
She hesitated. “I’ve been thinking about that. He said he couldn’t tell me what his problems were or who was after him, just that they were very powerful people who could get away with anything. But when we dropped the Corvette off at your house, Irene, he said something like, ‘All because of Hannah.’ I thought that might have been the young girl he was trying to impress when he bought the Corvette. Do you think she could be behind this?”