Blunt Darts

FOURTH

– ¦ "Just carnations." I set them down and stepped back. "Mrs. Feeney said the roses at the flower market were tired-looking." I felt too distant standing up, so I squatted down on my haunches.

"Remember Valerie Jacobs, Chuck Craft's friend? Well, she's brought me a case, and it's a beaut! Rich family and all kinds of troubles. The grandmother, you'd like. Good Yankee, you'd call her. The grandson I haven't met yet, and won't, if I don't roll pretty hard and fast on finding him. Still, he sounds like the type you'd have liked too. Serious, studied, and quiet. Just like me." We laughed.

I stared at the carnations for a while. I began blinking rapidly. We talked inside for a bit.

"So. I'm afraid I won't be back for a while. I'll see you when the case is over. Or sooner, if I hit a problem. Just like always."

I straightened up and turned around to walk back down the path. A teenager holding a rake and wearing a maintenance shirt and dungaree cut-offs gave me a funny look. I didn't recognize him. Summer help, probably, and young. Too young to know anything. Especially anything about cemeteries.

When I got back to Charles Street I put the Merc up at the garage on the riverside and grabbed a steak at the charcoal place that was then near the intersection of Beacon. In the apartment I made a screwdriver (the orange juice makes me feel healthy) and played back my telephone tape. The only caller was Valerie. She wanted me to call her back and tell her about my interview with Mrs. Kinnington. Instead, I dialed Chief Maslyk's home number in Bonham and asked him if he'd like to fire a few strings with me at the range tomorrow. He said he couldn't but would be available the next day, around 9:30. He'd meet me there.

After I hung up, I thought about Valerie. I downed the second half of my screwdriver and left the telephone on tape rather than on ring for the rest of the night.