a moment until Richman said: “And from us you would like…?”
A good question. I wasn’t really sure what I expected him or the police to do at this point.
The waiter returned to refill our coffee, and Richman waited until he left to speak.
“You’re right about our having done just about everything we could have done on these cases, and since as you say there isn’t one iota of hard evidence of any crime, I can’t see what more we might be able to do until something shows up that we can hang a case on.” He stirred about a quarter-cup of sugar into his coffee, tasted it, put in more sugar, and tasted it again. Apparently satisfied, he replaced the cup on its saucer and continued while I took the opportunity to get a couple bites from my omelet.
“Of course, under the circumstances, that doesn’t mean we might not be able to offer you a little assistance from time to time, if you really need it.”
“Well, I certainly appreciate that.” I meant it wholeheartedly.
We exchanged small talk for awhile, Richman telling me about his three kids and especially about the oldest, Craig, who Richman was firmly convinced was gay.
“I just wish he’d feel comfortable enough to talk to me about it,” he said. “I’ve thought about bringing it up myself several times, but figure it’s not up to me. He’ll tell me when he’s ready. I think he’s getting there.”
“Well, I think you’re handling it just fine. Coming out to the family is always a really big step, but he’s damned lucky to have a dad like you. I’m sure he knows you’ll understand and accept him for who he is.”
He sighed. “I hope so.” Suddenly, he glanced at his watch, then at my only half-finished plate.
“Uh…”
“That’s okay,” I said. “I know you’ve got to get going. You go ahead; I’ll get the check.”
“You sure?” he asked, already starting to get up.
“I’m sure,” I said as I put down my fork to shake hands. “It’s the least I can do.”
Richman paused, then said: “And I assume we don’t have to go through our little ritual of me making you promise you’ll let me know what’s going on, and that you’ll recognize when it’s time for us to step in?”
“Goes without saying.”
He stared at me for a second to be sure I’d gotten the message.
“Okay. So, thanks for breakfast, and we’ll talk later.”
With that he left, leaving me to finish my breakfast.
*
I guess I was even more excited about seeing Chris again than I’d thought, because I can’t really remember much of anything about the period between my leaving Sandler’s and Chris’s call from the airport at 12:30. The plane had been about 45 minutes late and they had to hurry into town so that Chris could make his 1:30 meeting. I quickly told him I had an appointment dealing with a case at 6:00, but that we would pick them up at the Montero as close to 8:00 as we could make it. He said that would be fine, and we hung up.
As I replaced the receiver onto its cradle, I thought back to the last time I’d seen Chris, walking from the car into the airport terminal to catch his flight for New York, officially closing the door on our five-year relationship as partners, and opening new doors for both of us. I also realized with a shock that I hadn’t even been a P.I. the last time I saw him! Good God, where does time go?
*
Because we had to meet Brian Oaks at Qualicare at 6:00, I’d arranged to pick Jonathan up from work to save a few minutes. We had just enough time to run home, do a quick joint shower (no time for soap-dropping), get dressed, and head out to Qualicare, which was almost all the way across town. Jonathan, who had eaten his lunch about half an hour early, was starving, so we made a quick swing through a fast-food drive-up lane to get him a chocolate shake to tide him over until dinner. I got one too, but only because I didn’t want him to feel bad about drinking one in front of me.
Jeez, you’re noble, Hardesty,
A good question. I wasn’t really sure what I expected him or the police to do at this point.
The waiter returned to refill our coffee, and Richman waited until he left to speak.
“You’re right about our having done just about everything we could have done on these cases, and since as you say there isn’t one iota of hard evidence of any crime, I can’t see what more we might be able to do until something shows up that we can hang a case on.” He stirred about a quarter-cup of sugar into his coffee, tasted it, put in more sugar, and tasted it again. Apparently satisfied, he replaced the cup on its saucer and continued while I took the opportunity to get a couple bites from my omelet.
“Of course, under the circumstances, that doesn’t mean we might not be able to offer you a little assistance from time to time, if you really need it.”
“Well, I certainly appreciate that.” I meant it wholeheartedly.
We exchanged small talk for awhile, Richman telling me about his three kids and especially about the oldest, Craig, who Richman was firmly convinced was gay.
“I just wish he’d feel comfortable enough to talk to me about it,” he said. “I’ve thought about bringing it up myself several times, but figure it’s not up to me. He’ll tell me when he’s ready. I think he’s getting there.”
“Well, I think you’re handling it just fine. Coming out to the family is always a really big step, but he’s damned lucky to have a dad like you. I’m sure he knows you’ll understand and accept him for who he is.”
He sighed. “I hope so.” Suddenly, he glanced at his watch, then at my only half-finished plate.
“Uh…”
“That’s okay,” I said. “I know you’ve got to get going. You go ahead; I’ll get the check.”
“You sure?” he asked, already starting to get up.
“I’m sure,” I said as I put down my fork to shake hands. “It’s the least I can do.”
Richman paused, then said: “And I assume we don’t have to go through our little ritual of me making you promise you’ll let me know what’s going on, and that you’ll recognize when it’s time for us to step in?”
“Goes without saying.”
He stared at me for a second to be sure I’d gotten the message.
“Okay. So, thanks for breakfast, and we’ll talk later.”
With that he left, leaving me to finish my breakfast.
*
I guess I was even more excited about seeing Chris again than I’d thought, because I can’t really remember much of anything about the period between my leaving Sandler’s and Chris’s call from the airport at 12:30. The plane had been about 45 minutes late and they had to hurry into town so that Chris could make his 1:30 meeting. I quickly told him I had an appointment dealing with a case at 6:00, but that we would pick them up at the Montero as close to 8:00 as we could make it. He said that would be fine, and we hung up.
As I replaced the receiver onto its cradle, I thought back to the last time I’d seen Chris, walking from the car into the airport terminal to catch his flight for New York, officially closing the door on our five-year relationship as partners, and opening new doors for both of us. I also realized with a shock that I hadn’t even been a P.I. the last time I saw him! Good God, where does time go?
*
Because we had to meet Brian Oaks at Qualicare at 6:00, I’d arranged to pick Jonathan up from work to save a few minutes. We had just enough time to run home, do a quick joint shower (no time for soap-dropping), get dressed, and head out to Qualicare, which was almost all the way across town. Jonathan, who had eaten his lunch about half an hour early, was starving, so we made a quick swing through a fast-food drive-up lane to get him a chocolate shake to tide him over until dinner. I got one too, but only because I didn’t want him to feel bad about drinking one in front of me.
Jeez, you’re noble, Hardesty,
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