looks terrible. The way he stays inside the house all day, it’s like he’s afraid of the light.”
“He’s hiding from someone most likely. Is he doing drugs?”
“I haven’t seen any, but I’m not there much during the day.”
Tubby took that pitch.
“I should come over there and kick that little brat’s butt,” he said.
“Oh, Daddy.” She laughed. “I do wish you would come over and talk to him, though. Maybe you can find out what’s really bothering him.”
Tubby was experiencing hot flashes.
“I’ll come talk to him, all right. When is he there?”
“All the time, I think. He just watches television.”
“At least he’s improving his mind.”
“He can be nice sometimes.”
Oh God, Tubby thought.
Lunch was not romantic. Tubby hailed Flowers on his car phone right before noon and asked him to collect Cherrylynn and report in. The conversation immediately turned to what restaurant they could eat at, and they decided to converge at O’Henry’s by the river, where they could get a burger and munch peanuts.
As it turned out, Flowers and Cherrylynn in his Honda and Tubby in his Monza Spyder arrived at the same time and parked side by side in front of Yvonne LaFleur’s, where creamy models attired in lace and white bonnets advertised Old South fashions to sugar daddies and debutantes. They strolled together back to Carrollton and noticed that, for some strange reason, there was no line outside the Camellia Grill, so they went there instead.
Tubby sighed in appreciation of the cloth napkins at the venerable diner shadowed by the avenue’s towering royal palms. He signaled for coffee just to watch the graying black waiter pour a steady sable stream from two feet above the cup. Not a drop did he splash. Pleased with his stunt, the man gave Cherrylynn a kindly wink.
“Coffee or tea, ma’am?” he asked.
“Tea,” she giggled.
“Where’s Harry?” Tubby asked, referring to the waiter who had been a fixture in the place since Tubby was in law school.
“Harry retired,” the waiter reported, “after forty-six years. We got a sandwich on the menu named in his honor.”
“I’ll have that,” Tubby said.
Cherrylynn ordered a turkey club, Flowers the Doc Brinker’s special double cheeseburger on rye, very rare, and a chocolate freeze.
The streetcar rumbled by outside.
“I guess we need to work,” Tubby said grudgingly. “What happened to you?” he asked Flowers.
“I dropped Cherrylynn off with Magenta Reilly, Dr. Valentine’s favorite student. Then I called on Ira Bennett, chiropractor. Who do you want to hear from first?”
“Cherrylynn, since she’s the new kid on the block.”
“Okay. Here I go.” Cherrylynn told how she had gone into the laundromat on Tonti Street, how she had met Magenta by pretending to notice her hospital clothes, and how they had gone next door for a cup of coffee.
“I kind of worked around the subject of how hard medical school was and how it left so little time for a real life. I asked her right out if she ever had a chance to go out on dates. She almost started to cry, the poor thing. What she said was, ‘No, there’s never any time. You just have to realize that that part of your life is totally over.’ I asked if she meant that it was on hold, instead of over, but she just looked real sad.”
“That’s it?”
“Pretty much. She told me she studied diseases because she wanted to make the world a more livable place. It seems she grew up in the projects and wants to, like, help people.”
“I gather it was not your impression that she killed the doctor?”
“Not at all.” Cherrylynn looked shocked. “She’s real nice. And she seemed too sad and, well, meek.”
“Okay.”
“I do remember one other thing,” she said.
Flowers and Tubby waited.
“She said she’s learned that doctors are almost all assholes.”
“A sweeping statement,” Tubby murmured.
“No argument from me,” Flowers said.
Their food came. The
“He’s hiding from someone most likely. Is he doing drugs?”
“I haven’t seen any, but I’m not there much during the day.”
Tubby took that pitch.
“I should come over there and kick that little brat’s butt,” he said.
“Oh, Daddy.” She laughed. “I do wish you would come over and talk to him, though. Maybe you can find out what’s really bothering him.”
Tubby was experiencing hot flashes.
“I’ll come talk to him, all right. When is he there?”
“All the time, I think. He just watches television.”
“At least he’s improving his mind.”
“He can be nice sometimes.”
Oh God, Tubby thought.
Lunch was not romantic. Tubby hailed Flowers on his car phone right before noon and asked him to collect Cherrylynn and report in. The conversation immediately turned to what restaurant they could eat at, and they decided to converge at O’Henry’s by the river, where they could get a burger and munch peanuts.
As it turned out, Flowers and Cherrylynn in his Honda and Tubby in his Monza Spyder arrived at the same time and parked side by side in front of Yvonne LaFleur’s, where creamy models attired in lace and white bonnets advertised Old South fashions to sugar daddies and debutantes. They strolled together back to Carrollton and noticed that, for some strange reason, there was no line outside the Camellia Grill, so they went there instead.
Tubby sighed in appreciation of the cloth napkins at the venerable diner shadowed by the avenue’s towering royal palms. He signaled for coffee just to watch the graying black waiter pour a steady sable stream from two feet above the cup. Not a drop did he splash. Pleased with his stunt, the man gave Cherrylynn a kindly wink.
“Coffee or tea, ma’am?” he asked.
“Tea,” she giggled.
“Where’s Harry?” Tubby asked, referring to the waiter who had been a fixture in the place since Tubby was in law school.
“Harry retired,” the waiter reported, “after forty-six years. We got a sandwich on the menu named in his honor.”
“I’ll have that,” Tubby said.
Cherrylynn ordered a turkey club, Flowers the Doc Brinker’s special double cheeseburger on rye, very rare, and a chocolate freeze.
The streetcar rumbled by outside.
“I guess we need to work,” Tubby said grudgingly. “What happened to you?” he asked Flowers.
“I dropped Cherrylynn off with Magenta Reilly, Dr. Valentine’s favorite student. Then I called on Ira Bennett, chiropractor. Who do you want to hear from first?”
“Cherrylynn, since she’s the new kid on the block.”
“Okay. Here I go.” Cherrylynn told how she had gone into the laundromat on Tonti Street, how she had met Magenta by pretending to notice her hospital clothes, and how they had gone next door for a cup of coffee.
“I kind of worked around the subject of how hard medical school was and how it left so little time for a real life. I asked her right out if she ever had a chance to go out on dates. She almost started to cry, the poor thing. What she said was, ‘No, there’s never any time. You just have to realize that that part of your life is totally over.’ I asked if she meant that it was on hold, instead of over, but she just looked real sad.”
“That’s it?”
“Pretty much. She told me she studied diseases because she wanted to make the world a more livable place. It seems she grew up in the projects and wants to, like, help people.”
“I gather it was not your impression that she killed the doctor?”
“Not at all.” Cherrylynn looked shocked. “She’s real nice. And she seemed too sad and, well, meek.”
“Okay.”
“I do remember one other thing,” she said.
Flowers and Tubby waited.
“She said she’s learned that doctors are almost all assholes.”
“A sweeping statement,” Tubby murmured.
“No argument from me,” Flowers said.
Their food came. The
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