planning this for months,” she reminded me.
“Why does the church suddenly want to build a garden in his honor?” I asked.
“Mom wanted to do something for the church and the church wanted to do something for
Mom. Why is that so hard to understand?”
“A lot of time has passed, that’s all,” I said.
“That’s exactly my point.” She put her hand on mine. “Let it go. For Mom.” When I
didn’t respond, she said, “You’re picking your thumbs again.”
“What?” I asked.
“Your thumbs.” She turned my hand over. “You used to do that when we were kids. Before
a game or a big test. When’d you pick up that nasty habit again?”
“I don’t know,” I said, taking my hand back and looking at the thumb. The skin on
the inside part was red and flaky.
“It’s your student, isn’t it? Frankie.”
“What?”
“You’re blowing it off like it’ll take care of itself. Like you’re gonna be at school
tomorrow and he’s just going to show up like nothing happened.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Rachel.”
“What’s so special about this kid?”
“Beside the fact that his dad was murdered and he and his sister are missing?”
“That’s not what I mean,” she said. “You got this kid a scholarship for high school.
You called in a favor from Eddie Keenan. Shit, Ray. You went to his house. You don’t
do stuff like that. At least you haven’t for a while. Why now? Why this kid?”
“Because this kid can throw a baseball eighty miles an hour.”
“No,” Rachel said. “There’s more. What was his dad like?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know?”
“You talked to him every day. You’re going to tell me you never talked about his dad?”
“Once in a while,” I admitted.
“And?”
“And the guy was an asshole, okay?”
“Frankie told you that?”
“He didn’t have to,” I said. “No home phone, no work phone, just a cell phone number
he wouldn’t let his son give out. Frankie lived with his grandmother, five minutes
from his dad. What kind of father does that? Frankie’d show up every once in a while
with a new pair of hundred-dollar sneakers and say his dad told him he ‘got paid.’
Give me a break.”
“Where’d he get the money?”
“Frankie wouldn’t say, and I didn’t ask. I think we can assume he wasn’t driving around
behind the sneaker truck waiting for a pair in his son’s size to fall off.” I took
a sip of sake. “Took him a week to sign the acceptance letter for Our Lady. Woulda
been just as happy if Frankie ended up in some dumping ground with a thousand other
nine-digit numbers.”
Rachel smiled. “So you took care of him?”
“I took care of getting him a shot at a decent high school.”
“Our Lady is a little more than decent, Ray.”
“And Eddie Keenan did me a solid.”
“Sounds like he’s getting something in return.”
“Damn straight he is.” I scooped up a little of the ice cream. It mixed nicely with
the taste of the wine. “I stopped by the precinct today.”
“What made you— You’re kidding me?”
“I had some information I wanted to share with the detective on the case, and he pretty
much told me to bug off.”
“What’d you expect? A Junior Detective badge and a ‘Go get him, Ray’?”
“I don’t know what I expected,” I said. “No, that’s not true. I got pretty much what
I expected. Fifteen minutes of his time, a little respect for the walking wounded,
and ‘Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out, Mr. Donne.’”
Rachel smiled. “Fifteen minutes, huh?”
“Thirteen of them were for Uncle Ray. I wanted to see how they’re progressing. I got
the feeling if nothing happens by the weekend, this guy’s moving on. He has to.”
“At least you tried.”
“It didn’t get me anywhere. I might as well have gone home and taken a nap.”
“But you didn’t,” Rachel said as she stood up. She came around the
“Why does the church suddenly want to build a garden in his honor?” I asked.
“Mom wanted to do something for the church and the church wanted to do something for
Mom. Why is that so hard to understand?”
“A lot of time has passed, that’s all,” I said.
“That’s exactly my point.” She put her hand on mine. “Let it go. For Mom.” When I
didn’t respond, she said, “You’re picking your thumbs again.”
“What?” I asked.
“Your thumbs.” She turned my hand over. “You used to do that when we were kids. Before
a game or a big test. When’d you pick up that nasty habit again?”
“I don’t know,” I said, taking my hand back and looking at the thumb. The skin on
the inside part was red and flaky.
“It’s your student, isn’t it? Frankie.”
“What?”
“You’re blowing it off like it’ll take care of itself. Like you’re gonna be at school
tomorrow and he’s just going to show up like nothing happened.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Rachel.”
“What’s so special about this kid?”
“Beside the fact that his dad was murdered and he and his sister are missing?”
“That’s not what I mean,” she said. “You got this kid a scholarship for high school.
You called in a favor from Eddie Keenan. Shit, Ray. You went to his house. You don’t
do stuff like that. At least you haven’t for a while. Why now? Why this kid?”
“Because this kid can throw a baseball eighty miles an hour.”
“No,” Rachel said. “There’s more. What was his dad like?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know?”
“You talked to him every day. You’re going to tell me you never talked about his dad?”
“Once in a while,” I admitted.
“And?”
“And the guy was an asshole, okay?”
“Frankie told you that?”
“He didn’t have to,” I said. “No home phone, no work phone, just a cell phone number
he wouldn’t let his son give out. Frankie lived with his grandmother, five minutes
from his dad. What kind of father does that? Frankie’d show up every once in a while
with a new pair of hundred-dollar sneakers and say his dad told him he ‘got paid.’
Give me a break.”
“Where’d he get the money?”
“Frankie wouldn’t say, and I didn’t ask. I think we can assume he wasn’t driving around
behind the sneaker truck waiting for a pair in his son’s size to fall off.” I took
a sip of sake. “Took him a week to sign the acceptance letter for Our Lady. Woulda
been just as happy if Frankie ended up in some dumping ground with a thousand other
nine-digit numbers.”
Rachel smiled. “So you took care of him?”
“I took care of getting him a shot at a decent high school.”
“Our Lady is a little more than decent, Ray.”
“And Eddie Keenan did me a solid.”
“Sounds like he’s getting something in return.”
“Damn straight he is.” I scooped up a little of the ice cream. It mixed nicely with
the taste of the wine. “I stopped by the precinct today.”
“What made you— You’re kidding me?”
“I had some information I wanted to share with the detective on the case, and he pretty
much told me to bug off.”
“What’d you expect? A Junior Detective badge and a ‘Go get him, Ray’?”
“I don’t know what I expected,” I said. “No, that’s not true. I got pretty much what
I expected. Fifteen minutes of his time, a little respect for the walking wounded,
and ‘Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out, Mr. Donne.’”
Rachel smiled. “Fifteen minutes, huh?”
“Thirteen of them were for Uncle Ray. I wanted to see how they’re progressing. I got
the feeling if nothing happens by the weekend, this guy’s moving on. He has to.”
“At least you tried.”
“It didn’t get me anywhere. I might as well have gone home and taken a nap.”
“But you didn’t,” Rachel said as she stood up. She came around the
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