his name and a note to see Grace. Lots of them have that. She talks to kids and tries to convince them to call home, once they know someone's interested." From the way she spoke, nobody at home had expressed any interest in Kitty for some time.
"So you met Dio."
"Not me. A friend. No, really," she said, seeing Kate's skeptical look. "This guy I met walking down the Panhandle, you know? He gave me a cigarette - and honest, it was just a cigarette. Grace throws you out if she smells weed on you. Anyway, we got to talking about, well, things, you know? And he came back here for dinner and to look at the board and see if maybe... Well, there wasn't nothing for him on it, but then he sees the name Dio and acts kind of surprised, and he goes, "I thought Dio was an orphan," and I go, "You should tell Dio his name is up" - I mean, not like anyone wants to go home, you know, but still, it doesn't hurt to make a-phone call, does it, and they might send some money or something. Well, anyway, he said he'd tell Dio if he saw him."
"When was this?"
"Last week. Friday maybe. Thursday? No, I remember, it was Friday because we had a tuna casserole and we talked about Catholics and that fish thing they used to have."
"Have you seen him since then?"
"Well, yeah, I mean, that's why I talked to Grace, isn't it, "cause Bo - because my friend asked me to. He came here this afternoon. Well, really this morning, but I wasn't here, so he came back. He said he found Dio, and he's really sick - Dio is, I mean - and a couple of Dio's friends are really worried about him."
"Sick how? OD?" If so, he'd be long dead.
"I don't think so. Bo - my friend said he was coughing real bad, for the last week or so."
"Why didn't his friends take him to the emergency room? Or the free clinic?"
"Well, that part I didn't really understand. There's something about this guy Dio lives with, him and a bunch of other kids, all of them guys, I think. Anyway, there's this old guy who kind of heads up the place they're living in. It's a squat in a warehouse the other side of Market, down where the docks are? Anyway he - the old guy - doesn't like outsiders, like doctors."
I'll bet he doesn't, Kate thought bleakly. "I'd like to talk to your friend about this."
"He said no, he doesn't want nothing to do with it. He's just worried about Dio and thinks somebody should take him out of there before he dies or something. He'd probably freak if he knew I was talking to a cop about it. He said he doesn't want the old guy to know, 'cause he makes my friend nervous. Oh, there's nothing wrong with him. I mean, he takes care of the kids and doesn't feel them up or anything, but he's just... weird. That's what Bo says, anyway. Bo's my friend."
Secondhand and from a limited vocabulary like Kitty's, "weird" could mean anything from a drooling madman to an Oxbridgian with a plummy accent and boutonniere.
"Okay, I'll go see him. And I won't tell how I knew he was there. What's the address?"
Kitty had to stand up to get her hand into the pockets of her skintight jeans. She pulled out a grubby scrap of paper folded multiple times into a wad. Kate unfolded it, saw that the address was clear enough, and put it into her own pocket.
"Thanks, Kitty. I'll do what I can. It was good of you to take the chance, talking to me."
"Yeah, well. If us kids on the street don't look after each other, who will?"
The rain was taking a break when Kate left the center, and the wind had dropped below gale force, so she decided to go by the address on the scrap of paper Kitty had given her. She was almost surprised to find, when she got there, that it actually existed. It proved to be a deserted three-story warehouse with plywood sheets nailed up across all the ground-floor windows, in an area slated for redevelopment. Kate went past it slowly, continued on a couple of blocks, and then doubled back, blessing the Kawasaki's efficient muffler system. Pushing the big machine into a recessed entranceway that
"So you met Dio."
"Not me. A friend. No, really," she said, seeing Kate's skeptical look. "This guy I met walking down the Panhandle, you know? He gave me a cigarette - and honest, it was just a cigarette. Grace throws you out if she smells weed on you. Anyway, we got to talking about, well, things, you know? And he came back here for dinner and to look at the board and see if maybe... Well, there wasn't nothing for him on it, but then he sees the name Dio and acts kind of surprised, and he goes, "I thought Dio was an orphan," and I go, "You should tell Dio his name is up" - I mean, not like anyone wants to go home, you know, but still, it doesn't hurt to make a-phone call, does it, and they might send some money or something. Well, anyway, he said he'd tell Dio if he saw him."
"When was this?"
"Last week. Friday maybe. Thursday? No, I remember, it was Friday because we had a tuna casserole and we talked about Catholics and that fish thing they used to have."
"Have you seen him since then?"
"Well, yeah, I mean, that's why I talked to Grace, isn't it, "cause Bo - because my friend asked me to. He came here this afternoon. Well, really this morning, but I wasn't here, so he came back. He said he found Dio, and he's really sick - Dio is, I mean - and a couple of Dio's friends are really worried about him."
"Sick how? OD?" If so, he'd be long dead.
"I don't think so. Bo - my friend said he was coughing real bad, for the last week or so."
"Why didn't his friends take him to the emergency room? Or the free clinic?"
"Well, that part I didn't really understand. There's something about this guy Dio lives with, him and a bunch of other kids, all of them guys, I think. Anyway, there's this old guy who kind of heads up the place they're living in. It's a squat in a warehouse the other side of Market, down where the docks are? Anyway he - the old guy - doesn't like outsiders, like doctors."
I'll bet he doesn't, Kate thought bleakly. "I'd like to talk to your friend about this."
"He said no, he doesn't want nothing to do with it. He's just worried about Dio and thinks somebody should take him out of there before he dies or something. He'd probably freak if he knew I was talking to a cop about it. He said he doesn't want the old guy to know, 'cause he makes my friend nervous. Oh, there's nothing wrong with him. I mean, he takes care of the kids and doesn't feel them up or anything, but he's just... weird. That's what Bo says, anyway. Bo's my friend."
Secondhand and from a limited vocabulary like Kitty's, "weird" could mean anything from a drooling madman to an Oxbridgian with a plummy accent and boutonniere.
"Okay, I'll go see him. And I won't tell how I knew he was there. What's the address?"
Kitty had to stand up to get her hand into the pockets of her skintight jeans. She pulled out a grubby scrap of paper folded multiple times into a wad. Kate unfolded it, saw that the address was clear enough, and put it into her own pocket.
"Thanks, Kitty. I'll do what I can. It was good of you to take the chance, talking to me."
"Yeah, well. If us kids on the street don't look after each other, who will?"
The rain was taking a break when Kate left the center, and the wind had dropped below gale force, so she decided to go by the address on the scrap of paper Kitty had given her. She was almost surprised to find, when she got there, that it actually existed. It proved to be a deserted three-story warehouse with plywood sheets nailed up across all the ground-floor windows, in an area slated for redevelopment. Kate went past it slowly, continued on a couple of blocks, and then doubled back, blessing the Kawasaki's efficient muffler system. Pushing the big machine into a recessed entranceway that
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