stock in health insurance companies that routinely deny lifesaving surgery or medication. It’s better not to dwell on the fact that something that gives us so much pleasure is linked to the increased likelihood of another person’s death.
On the way home, I noticed a couple of men I thought might be Paco—a man with a long beard and ponytail leaning against a
Pelican Press
dispenser, and a teen with a purple mohawk in dark shades, baggy jeans, and a huge shapeless shirt—but it was dumb of me to do that. If Paco’s disguises were the kind I could see through, they wouldn’t be effective, and I knew his were extremely effective.
When I got home, I spent an hour at my desk with client records, then went downstairs to spend time with Michael and Ella. To be strictly honest, I was also drawn by the memory that Michael had made brownies. No matter how grim the world gets, chocolate makes anything more tolerable.
Michael was in his kitchen with several steaming pots on the stove and a look of grim anxiety in the set of his jaw. Ella was perched on her barstool watching him and occasionally licking her lips.
I gave Ella’s furry head a kiss, poured myself a glass ofmilk from a carton in the fridge, and got myself a brownie. I sat on a barstool beside Ella and watched Michael. Like Ella, I licked my lips every now and then, but in my case it was for the chocolate and milk. I suspected Ella did it from a sublimated urge to lick Michael. She wouldn’t be the first female to want to do that.
He concentrated on his pots and pans, giving one a furious stir, grabbing a smoking cast-iron skillet’s handle and moving it back and forth like he was trying to shake sense into it, glaring down into a soup pot’s innards as if he thought it was hiding something. I had the feeling he had forgotten that Ella and I were there.
Meekly, I said, “What’re you cooking?”
His head whipped toward me. “Huh? Oh, just some stuff for the freezer. Corn chowder. Roasted poblano peppers, some shrimp and mushrooms to put in the peppers.”
I said, “Hunh.”
I looked down at Ella, who was looking up at me with a pleading expression. I guess she thought one human should be able to communicate with another human better than a cat could. She didn’t understand how hard human-to-human communication is.
I said, “Have you heard from Paco?”
His shoulders hunched, and he increased the speed of the wooden spoon circling in the soup pot. “He never calls when he’s working.”
I knew better than to ask if he had any idea what the job was, or where it was, or how long it would last. But I also knew that something about this job was unusual. Otherwise, Michael wouldn’t be so closed off.
I said, “Paco’s a good cop. He knows what he’s doing.”
“I know that.”
I got up and rinsed my milk glass and put it in the dishwasher. Threw the paper towel I’d used as a napkin into the trash under the sink. It was time to go out on my afternoon calls. Just before midnight, Maureen would come for me, and I would go with her to her house. Then one of us would make the ransom money drop, and I knew which one of us it would be. Just thinking about it made me stop breathing.
Michael gave me a phony smile when I left and Ella tried for a nonchalant wave of her tail, but we were all putting on an act. I told myself that Paco would be home by nightfall, that the money drop would go off without a hitch, and that Maureen’s husband would be back in the bosom of his family by morning. I told myself that the next day Paco would be resting up from whatever he’d done, I would go off to take care of pets, and Michael would go to the firehouse happily bearing a big container of corn chowder.
I just had to make it until the night was dark enough to hide the insane thing I was going to do.
At Tom Hale’s condo, he was in his wheelchair in the living room reading the real estate section of the
Herald-Tribune
. Billy ran to kiss my knees when I let
On the way home, I noticed a couple of men I thought might be Paco—a man with a long beard and ponytail leaning against a
Pelican Press
dispenser, and a teen with a purple mohawk in dark shades, baggy jeans, and a huge shapeless shirt—but it was dumb of me to do that. If Paco’s disguises were the kind I could see through, they wouldn’t be effective, and I knew his were extremely effective.
When I got home, I spent an hour at my desk with client records, then went downstairs to spend time with Michael and Ella. To be strictly honest, I was also drawn by the memory that Michael had made brownies. No matter how grim the world gets, chocolate makes anything more tolerable.
Michael was in his kitchen with several steaming pots on the stove and a look of grim anxiety in the set of his jaw. Ella was perched on her barstool watching him and occasionally licking her lips.
I gave Ella’s furry head a kiss, poured myself a glass ofmilk from a carton in the fridge, and got myself a brownie. I sat on a barstool beside Ella and watched Michael. Like Ella, I licked my lips every now and then, but in my case it was for the chocolate and milk. I suspected Ella did it from a sublimated urge to lick Michael. She wouldn’t be the first female to want to do that.
He concentrated on his pots and pans, giving one a furious stir, grabbing a smoking cast-iron skillet’s handle and moving it back and forth like he was trying to shake sense into it, glaring down into a soup pot’s innards as if he thought it was hiding something. I had the feeling he had forgotten that Ella and I were there.
Meekly, I said, “What’re you cooking?”
His head whipped toward me. “Huh? Oh, just some stuff for the freezer. Corn chowder. Roasted poblano peppers, some shrimp and mushrooms to put in the peppers.”
I said, “Hunh.”
I looked down at Ella, who was looking up at me with a pleading expression. I guess she thought one human should be able to communicate with another human better than a cat could. She didn’t understand how hard human-to-human communication is.
I said, “Have you heard from Paco?”
His shoulders hunched, and he increased the speed of the wooden spoon circling in the soup pot. “He never calls when he’s working.”
I knew better than to ask if he had any idea what the job was, or where it was, or how long it would last. But I also knew that something about this job was unusual. Otherwise, Michael wouldn’t be so closed off.
I said, “Paco’s a good cop. He knows what he’s doing.”
“I know that.”
I got up and rinsed my milk glass and put it in the dishwasher. Threw the paper towel I’d used as a napkin into the trash under the sink. It was time to go out on my afternoon calls. Just before midnight, Maureen would come for me, and I would go with her to her house. Then one of us would make the ransom money drop, and I knew which one of us it would be. Just thinking about it made me stop breathing.
Michael gave me a phony smile when I left and Ella tried for a nonchalant wave of her tail, but we were all putting on an act. I told myself that Paco would be home by nightfall, that the money drop would go off without a hitch, and that Maureen’s husband would be back in the bosom of his family by morning. I told myself that the next day Paco would be resting up from whatever he’d done, I would go off to take care of pets, and Michael would go to the firehouse happily bearing a big container of corn chowder.
I just had to make it until the night was dark enough to hide the insane thing I was going to do.
At Tom Hale’s condo, he was in his wheelchair in the living room reading the real estate section of the
Herald-Tribune
. Billy ran to kiss my knees when I let
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