Double Play

25.

Robinson and Burke ate breakfast in midtown Manhattan at a restaurant called the Virginian, which featured omelets cooked in the front window. A few people were gathered on the sidewalk to watch.

“Who the Giants pitching today?” Burke said.

“Koslo.”

“You hit him?”

“I hit him good,” Robinson said.

As they were eating two men came in and stopped inside the door one on either side. The one to the left wore a blue seersucker suit that didn’t fit him well. The one on the right had on a well-tailored tan Palm Beach suit. He wore a low crowned straw fedora with a snap brim and a big colorful band. The door opened again and a tall graceful man with white hair and a strong nose came in and walked to the table where Robinson and Burke were sitting.

“May I join you?” the man said.

Robinson looked up and didn’t answer.

Burke said, “Why?”

“My name is Frank Boucicault. I’d like to speak to you about my son.”

“Mr. Robinson and I are having breakfast,” Burke said.

“If you’d prefer he not hear what I have to say, we might ask him to step outside,” Boucicault said.

“We won’t do that,” Burke said.

“What I have to say involves Lauren Roach,” Boucicault said.

“Burke,” Jackie said. “Be okay, you want me to step out.”

Burke shook his head.

“What about her,” he said to Boucicault.

Boucicault looked at Robinson for a moment, then at Burke. He rubbed his hands gently together.

“She is engaged to my son,” he said.

Burke didn’t speak.

“I know she was with you for a time. I know you’ve had trouble with my son about it.”

“Not much trouble,” Burke said.

“No. My son is not a tough guy. He thinks he is. But he isn’t.”

Boucicault was quiet again. He kept rubbing his hands. Robinson was quiet, his dark eyes fixed on Boucicault. No one was eating.

“On the other hand,” he said, “I am.”

“Me too,” Burke said.

“I know. You killed two of my people.”

“I did.”

“But you did not kill my son. That buys you something.”

“But not everything,” Burke said.

Boucicault smiled.

“No,” he said. “Not everything.”

He stopped rubbing his hands and pressed them together and rested the fingertips against the point of his chin.

“My son, Mr. Burke, is not what I had in mind when he was born. But that makes him no less my son. I love him, and I will see to it that he has in life what he wants from it. That includes the Roach girl.”

“Unless she doesn’t want him,” Burke said.

“I don’t care what she wants,” Boucicault said. “And you shouldn’t either. Maybe you’re good. The men you killed were pretty good. Doesn’t matter. I could send a hundred better.”

Burke drank some coffee.

“I don’t want the Roach girl,” Burke said.

“Good,” Boucicault said. “The other thing is for you to stay away from Louis.”

“I got no interest in Louis,” Burke said.

Robinson had finished his breakfast. He was sipping a second cup of coffee, his eyes shifting from one speaker to the other.

“I’ll try to keep him away from you,” Boucicault said.

“Be a good thing,” Burke said.

“I care about appearances,” Boucicault said. “I started in a garbage heap, and I crawled out of it, and over the years I have learned to speak well, and dress properly, and carry myself with dignity.”

Burke didn’t speak.

“But you should not be fooled. My resources are great, and I have no more scruples than a cannibal.”

“Sure,” Burke said.

The two men looked at each other.

“You’re not scared of me,” Boucicault said. “You should be, but you’re not.”

Burke shrugged again.

“Why aren’t you?” Boucicault said.

Burke finished the last of his eggs, and wiped his mouth carefully with a napkin.

“Things don’t matter much to me,” he said.

Boucicault looked at Robinson.

“You got any thoughts on this, boy?”

Robinson’s face went blank. His gaze flattened.

“No thoughts,” he said.

“Keep it just that way,” Boucicault said.

He looked at Burke.

“We clear?” he said.

Burke nodded slowly.

“Your kid is sick,” Burke said.

The lines at the corners of Boucicault’s mouth deepened.

“I know that,” he said.

“Something wrong with the girl,” Burke said.

“I know that, too.”

“They probably make each other sicker,” Burke said.

“I do what I can,” Boucicault said. “I just want you to stay clear.”

“Glad to,” Burke said.