Molly Brown by B. A. Morton

Connell figured he should probably make sure he was around to witness it.
    “Okay, where and when?”
    “Come by Frankie’s office in an hour,” said Porter.
    Okay, he was interested but he didn’t want them thinking he was that interested. “Sorry, no good, I’m a busy man. I’ve got things to do ...”
    “When is convenient?” Connell heard th e restraint in Porter’s reply. He was obviously a man more used to getting things done at his own convenience.
    He picked up his fork and speared a sausage. “Hold on, I’ll just check my diary.” He took a bite and took his time chewing, sent Martha a wink as she dealt with the adjoining table and generally took his time pissing off Porter. “How about midday?” he said eventually. “I could make it for twelve, other than that we’re looking at tomorrow afternoon.”
    “Noon it is,” snapped Porter. “Don’t be late.”
    “Well , I’ll certainly try, but you know, Porter, the traffic in this town is a bitch.”
    He flipped his phone shut and caught Martha’s eye for the check. Reaching into his pocket he cursed as he realized his wallet was missing. Shit, no money , no cards and no time to go home and retrieve the wallet from wherever Joe or Spidey had tossed it in their search for candy. Fortunately for him, he was now Martha’s favorite customer of the day and she believed him when he said he’d stop by on the way home and settle up.
     
    “Hey, Marty, you out of bed, buddy?” Connell held the phone to his ear as he started the car.
    “You forget that I’ve got six kids?”
    “Nope, I thought you might have been having some quality time with Charlene.” He reversed out of the parking lot and headed for the highway.
    Marty laughed. “You remember what it’s like to have a two year old. There’s no such thing as quality time. What do you want at this hour of the morning?”
    “You, Marty, I want you. Do you fancy riding shotgun?”
    “I’m more brains than brawn, Tommy, you know that. I prefer to leave the physical stuff to those who get a kick out of it.”
    “Gee, thanks, Einstein, so where does that leave me?”
    “In trouble as usual.”
    “I’m not expecting trouble, buddy, I just need someone with me to remind me how to behave myself, and in the absence of Lizzie, you’re it.”
    “So you mean more of a babysitter than a bodyguard?”
    “Yeah, and you’re real good at babysitting, Marty, you know you are.”
    “And you’re not going to be shooting anybody?”
    “No, Marty, no shooting, just talking and maybe finding out something useful.”
    “Okay, so you’ve got me interested.”
    Connell grinned. “Meet me outside Frankie Vasin’s building at midday ... Oh, and Marty, wear a suit. You gotta look like you mean business.”
    “Huh?”
    “Oh, and, buddy …”
    “Yeah? ”
    “Bring your wallet . I may need a loaner.”
    Connell had made a decision. Today he would match his mood to the weather which was cooking up to be a scorcher. He was going to be charming and polite , and try very hard not to resort to cussing of any kind. He was going to avoid all physical and verbal altercations, especially the physical, and just see if all this positive mental attitude nonsense actually worked. As far as he was concerned, the day had started well, probably because the night before had ended so well, thanks to Lizzie. Today he was going to find the kid, fix old Gibbons’ and Scott’s wagons, and go home a happy man. If he had to dine out on Marty in the interim because the dog ate his wallet, well, he could think of worse ways to spend his time.
     
    *  *  *
     
    The library was open for business by the time he got there, and he waited patiently in line while books were checked in and out and fines were paid. When he reached the desk, he ignored the deep gouges left in the counter top by the feline fiend, summoned up his most charming smile and turned it on the lady holding court at the other side of the counter.
    “Any sign of