* * *
“Mick? You in here?” Cole peered around the doorway and into Brennan’s darkened office.
“Over here.” A very hoarse voice croaked from across the room, “What do you want?”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t know, some kind of lung crud, can’t seem to shake it.”
As Cole’s eyes adjusted to the dark room, he could see Brennan stretched out on the dark leather couch covered in a dark green blanket. It was the same one Cole brought him back from Ecuador about 15 years ago. Against the dark paneled wall, he was nearly invisible.
“Here is the piece on the cat killer. There is a whole lot more to it than we expected, could work into a nice series.”
“About cat killers?”
“Haven’t you heard? The elderly lady the cat belonged to took a hostage and killed a police negotiator. The angle is she just snapped: before that she was just the little old lady on the block who made everybody cookies and stuff. Here’s the piece: Three experts giving their read on the elderly and crime and mental illness. I think we could run with this and make quite a good feature series. Maybe even—”
“Hey, hey, hey, I’m not dead yet. Who the hell made you editor?” Brennan cut in.
“I guess I’m a little excited about this thing.”
“Jeez, I guess,” Brennan croaked and coughed a loose phlegmy rasp. “Well something’s lit a fire under you. You’re right, sounds like something. Good angle. We need a strong feature piece for Sunday. Work something up and—”
This time Cole broke in, “That’s great, but I need a favor.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Do you remember Ellie, my...” Cole hesitated.
“Of course, the one that got away. How could I forget? You almost—”
“She needs my help.”
“After 20 whatever years, you kiddin’ me?”
“I got a message today. She’s in a convalescent home. They won’t tell me what’s wrong with her, and I couldn’t talk to her, something about no phone in the room. I need some time. I need to go see her.”
“Who called?” Brennan struggled to sit up.
“Wouldn’t give Olajean their name, just a number. It was a woman though. I need a week. I have lots of vacation time, sick leave, whatever you want to charge it to. But I’m going tonight.”
“You know Cole, this doesn’t mean—”
“I know, I know, but she must be in pretty bad trouble to call me for help, don’t you think?”
“Hell, I’d have to be.” Cole couldn’t see the concerned look on his old friend’s face.
“Funny,” Cole said.
“Take whatever you need. But don’t get your hopes up about this. I know it’s not my place, but time changes stuff, ya know? Who knows what you’re gonna find.”
“I’ve considered that. I almost didn’t return the call. She needs somebody; she called me, that means something. I’ve got to know, Mick.”
“All right. You’re probably right. No, you are right. Go, you need to go; this is a book that needs an ending.” Brennan threw off his blanket, stood and walked to face Cole. “I know things haven’t been going your way. Maybe I’m partially to blame.” Cole tried to speak. “No, don’t interrupt, this needs said. I don’t have many years, hell, the way I’m feeling I don’t have many days left. I’ve always thought a lot of you. I should have given you more, I don’t know, encouragement. I’m just not made that way. My idea of help is a good swift kick in the ass, ya know? You’re about the only friend I have left. I’m a tired old drunk who needs to retire and is afraid to. Lauren out there is what keeps this place running, keeps me running too. You know she has me eating vitamins? What I’m trying to say don’t wind up like me, and that’s where you’re heading, bitter and alone. If you’ve got a chance with her again, take it. But if it isn’t anything, I mean with her, let it go. Let it go, Cole.”
“Thanks, Mick.” Cole turned and made his way to the elevator.
Brennan watched Cole’s retreating form. Then he turned on the lights, lit a cigarette, and collapsed into his chair. Picking up Cole’s printout, he started to read.
FOUR
Diamonds and Cole: Cole Sage Mystery #1 Page 7
