Then he put her back down and kissed me on the forehead and sat down. Spike brought us menus. My father ordered a veal cutlet with linguine. I ordered a tuna-salad sandwich. We both ordered iced tea.
“So, little Ms. Gumshoe,” my father said. “Whaddya got so far?”
I told him carefully—repetitiously, I was sure, but everything I could remember of every detail. He listened without a word, his elbows on the table, his thick hands clasped in front of him under his chin. When I was through, he ate some veal cutlet and a forkful of linguine. Rosie watched him carefully. She knew her chances of a forbidden table snack were better with him than with me.
“We both know the story,” he said after a time.
“You think?” I said.
“Sure. You still have to prove it. But you know that Markham had an affair with Lolly Drake about a year before Sarah was born. You know that Sarah is receiving money monthly from a charitable foundation apparently run by the wives of men who work for Lolly Drake. You know that Lolly Drake’s lawyer hired some people to chase you off the case. You know that he got killed when you started looking into him. You know that when Markham finally did the DNA test, he was killed shortly thereafter.”
“But it showed he wasn’t her father.”
“I suspect that was as much of a surprise to him as to anybody,” my father said.
“You think it’s Lolly.”
“Of course it’s Lolly. She got knocked up, she may not even have known who, but she told Markham it was him, for whatever her reasons, and he raised the kid. She sent money. Then, as things worked out, she became this moral standard-bearer of the airwaves, the apostle of love and loyalty, and it might have been harmful to her image to have abandoned her illegitimate child to a man not even her father.”
I nodded.
“Yes,” I said. “That’s what I think.”
“It’s what any good cop would think,” my father said. “How’s this guy in New York, Corsetti?”
I smiled.
“I think he might be very good,” I said. “You first meet him and he looks like some kind of thuggish city cop who spends his off time in the weight room, and he seems like a dope. Then you watch him talk to people for a while, and they all underestimate him, and you realize all of a sudden that he’s found out a ton of stuff about them. He doesn’t miss anything, and he doesn’t forget anything.”
My father nodded.
“You think Corsetti knows?” my father said.
“What we know?”
“Yep.”
“I’m sure he does,” I said. “But so far we haven’t any proof, and Lolly Drake has a lot of resources. We can’t just yank her in and sweat her.”
“You know what you’re trying to prove,” my father said. “You got a hitter to look for in both cities.”
“Might be the same guy,” I said. “Same MO.”
“Either way, you got two cities to look for him in. You find him, or one of him, whichever, and you turn him and the whole thing clicks in.”
“And,” I said, “we have Mrs. Markham. She doesn’t have a lot of resources.”
“Can the kid face up to her?” my father said.
“I don’t know.”
“Might be interesting, if she can,” my father said. “Get things stirred up, see what comes to the surface.”
“And,” I said, “I can’t believe that Harvey Delk can stand the heat.”
“Lotta guys like him don’t,” my father said. “Sharp guys, fixers, got a lotta power because they work for important people. Corsetti a tough guy?”
“Oh my goodness, yes,” I said.
“Then they run up against a tough cop who doesn’t care who they are, and all the savvy and secondhand clout dissolves and they’re offering you their soul at bargain rates.”
“That sounds like Harvey,” I said. “I’m not so sure about his lawyer.”
“Lot of lawyers for people like that have spent a lot of time closing deals from power positions—you know, do it our way or Lolly walks? It’s been a while since they banged heads with a street cop who might put their client in the hoosegow.”
“Hoosegow?”
“You gonna be a cop, you ought to talk like one,” my father said.
“It’s a funny case,” I said. “I know who did it, and I know why, but there’s no proof.”
“There is proof,” my father said. “There’s always proof.”
“I know.”
“You say Corsetti’s a good cop. Brian Kelly’s a good cop. You’re an excellent cop. And there’s too many people who got to keep too many secrets. You’re gonna win this one.”
He cut a small wedge of cutlet off and gave it to Rosie. She took it carefully from the fork and ate it.
“Daddy,” I said. “She’s not supposed to eat like that from the table.”
“I know,” my father said. “But I’m her grandfather. It’s permitted.”
I smiled at him. “Excellent?” I said.
“Yeah,” my father said. “You’re an excellent cop.”
He smiled.
“Pretty good daughter, too.”
“Even though I’m not married?”
“Even though,” he said.
“Mom seems to think it matters,” I said.
He gave Rosie another bite of cutlet, then grinned at me.
“Woman needs a man,” he said, “like a fish needs a bicycle.”
“I know,” I said. “That’s what she always says. I would say she needs you.”
My father nodded.
“Em likes slogans,” he said.
“You seem so ill suited,” I said after a little silence. “How have you stayed together so long?”
My father stared at me silently. Had I been a bad girl to ask? Then he smiled at me and patted my forearm.
“For God’s sake, Sunny,” he said. “We love each other.”
56
Sarah and I drove up Route 93 toward Andover. Rosie had assumed her spot, asleep between Sarah’s feet on the floor near the heater.
“You can do this?” I said.
“Yes.”
She looked pale and tight, and she swallowed often and visibly. It was the way I had probably looked on my first day of school.
“You think this will be good for me?” she said.
“This is beginning to wind down, or up, depending on how you look at it. I think the bigger part you play in it, the more you’ll feel as if you controlled your future, rather than things just happened to you.”
“You sound like my women’s studies teacher.”
“Oh, God,” I said. “I hope not.”
It was a bright day, but the landscape was gray and dirty where the snow had melted and acquired dirt and frozen and melted and acquired dirt and frozen. A few moments of lovely white followed by weeks of dirty gray. How metaphoric.
“You think she’s not my mother?” Sarah said.
“We’ll ask her,” I said.
“In some ways, it would be kind of a relief, you know? I mean, she was never very nice to me.”
I nodded. We went past the Academy and left down the hill and parked in front of the Markham house.
“I feel sick,” Sarah said.
“We’re in this together, kiddo,” I said. “We’ll get through it.”
“I wish I hadn’t started all this.”
“You are only asking a question you have the right to ask,” I said.
“I know,” she said. “I wish I didn’t.”
“Anyone would have,” I said.
She nodded and didn’t say anything else. Rosie opened one eye as we got out, saw that she wasn’t coming, and settled back with her heater. We walked to the house where Sarah had grown up.
When she let us in, Mrs. Markham was
wearing a flowered housedress and sneakers. The house was silent, and felt closed.
Sarah said, “Hi, Ma.”
Mrs. Markham carefully closed the door behind us and locked it.
“So, you’ve decided I’m your mother again?” she said.
Sarah was silent for a moment.
Then she said, “I don’t know what else to call you.”
Mrs. Markham didn’t bother to invite us in. She simply turned and walked into the living room and sat on the couch with her knees together and her hands clasped on top of them. Sarah and I sat across from her. Mrs. Markham’s age and mousiness seemed to have increased dramatically.
“Are you my mother?” Sarah said.
“I’ve raised you your whole life,” Mrs. Markham said without any affect.
“But did you conceive me, carry me to term, give birth to me?” Sarah said.
Mrs. Markham looked at her for so long in silence that I thought she wasn’t going to speak. Then she seemed to sag suddenly.
“No.”
“That’s why you wouldn’t take the tests.”
“George didn’t take it so as to support me. He thought he was your father.”
“But he wasn’t.”
“That’s what them doctors say.”
“Do you know who my mother was?”
“George told me he got some girl in trouble,” Mrs. Markham said heavily. “He said he’d never strayed before and never would again. I knew he was lyin’. He strayed a lot. But he said the girl didn’t want the baby, and would give us money to take it and raise it like it was ours.”
“And you agreed,” I said.
“Sure. We didn’t have any money, and George wasn’t going anywhere. So we agreed.”
“What was the deal?” I said.
“We move away before the baby’s born and take her when she is born and never tell nobody, and we get money every month, for us and for her. It was a lot of money. I don’t know how much it was. I don’t even know how much she got. Nobody ever told me anything.”
“Did you resent it?” Sarah said.
“Was a good deal. Money was good. Until you started nosing around.”
“She resented it,” I said to Sarah, “and she took it out on you.”
“Well, how was I supposed to feel, stuck with some whore’s daughter? How was I supposed to feel?”
“And you never knew the woman?” I said.
“No. It was part of the deal.”
“Is this deal in writing?”
“No.”
“It was self-enforcing,” I said. “If she didn’t pay, you’d tell, and if you told, she wouldn’t pay.”
“Except the bastard never even told me.”
“Secrets are safest when no one knows them,” I said.
“Now what am I going to do?” Mrs. Markham said. “They won’t send any more money. What am I going to do?”
Sarah looked at her. There were tears on Sarah’s face.
Finally, she said, “You know, Mrs. Markham, I don’t really care.”
She stood up and walked out. I followed her.
57
Rosie had had her walk and her breakfast. I was drinking coffee and painting when Sarah woke up on the couch.
“You still painting that building?” she said.
“South Station,” I said.
“Why do you want to paint buildings and stuff?”
“I like how they look,” I said.
“If I was a painter, I’d want to paint flowers and lakes and stuff. Stuff that looked nice.”
I said, “Um-hmm.”
Sarah sat up. Rosie came over and sniffed her ankle. Sarah patted her.
“I’m on my own,” Sarah said.
I stopped painting. “You are?” I said.
“I don’t have any parents. I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m on my own.”
“You have me,” I said.
“I know. But it’s not the same.”
“No,” I said. “It isn’t.”
“My tuition and room and board are paid for the rest of this semester,” Sarah said.
I nodded.
“I’m going back there.”
“To Taft?”
“Yes. I might as well get used to being on my own. I can’t live on your couch forever. Pretty soon I’ll have to get a job.”
“You could probably work for Spike,” I said.
“As what?”
“That would be up to him. Can you tend bar?”
“Not really.”
“You might learn,” I said. “Do you have any money?”
“I have two quarters,” she said. “But I can sleep and eat at the college.”
“I’ve got a hundred dollars you can have,” I said. “When it’s gone, maybe we can find some more. Just until you get on your feet.”
“I shouldn’t.”
“You should. We’re friends. Friends help each other out.”
Sarah laughed sadly. “I hired you,” she said. “And I can’t even pay you anymore. And now you’re paying me.”
“We’re too far into this,” I said. “I can’t put it down. My accountant will find a way to deduct it.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I said. “When you’re ready to go, I’ll drive you.”
“You’ll be glad to get rid of me.”
“I’ll be glad to live just Rosie and me again,” I said. “That’s not the same thing as being glad to get rid of you.”
“Close enough,” Sarah said.
“No. Of course, I like to live my life as I am used to it. No one really loves a permanent houseguest on the couch. But I’m glad you had a place to come when you needed to, and if you need to again, the couch is still here.”
“Thank you. Do you like to live alone?”
“Yes and no,” I said.
“What’s that mean?” Sarah said.
I smiled at her.
“Yes and no,” I said.
58
When Richie came to pick up Rosie, we were perfectly pleasant with each other. He sat on the couch and drank a cup of coffee. Rosie was beside him with her head on his lap.
“She’s such a silent dog,” Richie said.
“She is often lost in thought,” I said.
“That would be my guess,” Richie said. “She been okay?”
“Fine,” I said. “How is your life going?”
“Fine,” he said. “You?”
“Fine.”
“Does your wife mind Rosie?”
“No, not at all. She’s not used to dogs, but she thinks Rosie is great.”
“And she’s nice to her?”
“Sure,” Richie said. “Love me, love my dog.”
“I hear a small reservation,” I said.
Richie smiled. “She’s not crazy about Rosie on the furniture in the living room,” he said. “Or sleeping with us.”
“So what happens?”
“I prevail,” Richie said. “Just like you would.”
“But what about when you’re not there?”
“Rosie is always with me,” he said. “I take her to work, everywhere. She’s never alone with Kathryn.”
“But Kathryn’s not mean to her?”
“Of course not. You saw Rosie with her. Rosie likes her. Kathryn’s just not the same kind of dog person you and I are.”
The momentary sense of us-ness made me feel shaky. I didn’t want to say it, I wished I hadn’t said it. I hated it when I heard myself say it, but I opened my mouth and out it came: “Do you love her like you loved me?”
Rosie was leaning on his thigh. He was resting one hand on her back. He sat silently for what seemed like a long time without moving, looking
at me. Finally, he took in a lot of air, softly, through his nose.
“No,” he said.
“Do you still love me?”
Again, the long, motionless time. This time, he moved his hand enough to pat Rosie softly. She resettled herself slightly to take full advantage of the patting.
“Yes.”
I felt as if I could hear my own pulse. I listened to my own breathing. My computer was on at the other end of the room. I could hear it hum.
“I’m seeing a shrink,” I said.
“Good idea,” Richie said.
“She’s very good,” I said.
“The best kind to see,” Richie said.
We looked at each other silently. Rosie wiggled over onto her back so that Richie could rub her stomach.
“I’m beginning to learn some things about myself.”
Richie nodded.
“I’m not exactly who I was,” I said.
“It’s tough work,” Richie said. “You should be proud of yourself for doing it.”
I nodded.
“I there anything you need?” Richie said. “The Burkes got resources, you know.”
“I never ever could quite be sure,” I said. “Are you involved in the Burke family business?”
Richie smiled a little.
“I’ve told you no before.”
“I know.”
“So I won’t again,” Richie said. “Lemme tell you a story instead. When I graduated high school, my father and my uncle Felix took me out to dinner. My father said to me, ‘You know what we do?’ and I said, ‘Yes.’ And my father said, ‘It’s the life we chose, Felix and me.’ and I said, ‘I know.’ And my father said, ‘It ain’t a very good life. I don’t want you in it.’ Now you have to understand, my father probably said one hundred words to me in my first eighteen years. For him, this was like the Sermon on the Mount. ‘You unnerstand?’ he said. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Awright,’ he said. ‘I want you to go to college, and when you get through, I’ll be able to set you up in some legit part of the, ah, family enterprise.’ And being me, and being eighteen, I say, ‘If I want to.’ And my father looks at Felix and they both smile and my father says to me, ‘You do anything you want that’s legal. Me and Felix can give you a head start, and I don’t see no reason you shouldn’t take it, but that’s up to you.’ ”
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