Family Honor

Chapter 58

I had never been able to do the same painting over again, so, since my Chinatown had been destroyed, I was working on a view of the old Charles Street jail. Rosie was lying on the rug near me, and Millicent was reading the paper in bed. We had agreed on no television when I was trying to work. It was a rule for me. I couldn’t stand television and when I’m working I need to be able to focus. But there was a happy and entirely accidental by-product of the rule. She had started to read the paper... Could a book be far behind?

I was busy trying to get the right gray for the jail when Rosie sat up suddenly and looked at the door. I picked up my gun from the table next to me. The doorbell rang. Rosie dashed to the door barking and being fearsome, but her tail was wagging furiously, which meant it was probably Richie. I checked through the peephole. It wasn’t Richie. It was Brian. I opened the door. Brian came in and closed the door behind him and leaned forward and kissed me lightly.

“I figured I better do that,” he said, “or you might shoot.”

I smiled and put the gun on the table. Brian waved at Millicent.

“I might have,” I said. “Would you like coffee?”

“Sure.”

Brian went and looked at my painting while I measured out the coffee and water.

“You decided not to paint Chinatown?” he said.

“I can’t do the same painting again,” I said. “Maybe later.”

“Why is that?”

“I have no idea.”

“Artistic temperament?”

“I suspect that artistic temperament is bullshit,” I said. “Rembrandt and van Gogh were both artists, but I doubt that they had similar temperaments.”

We sat at my counter. I poured coffee. We both added milk. I used Equal in mine, Brian put sugar in his. Rosie sat at his feet, ever hopeful.

“No donuts?” he said.

“I didn’t know there was going to be a cop in the house,” I said.

We were quiet for a moment.

“Cathal Kragan turned up in Chelsea Creek this morning,” Brian said.

“Dead?”

Brian nodded.

“Shot behind his right ear,” he said. “At an up angle. Bullet exited in front above his left eye.”

“Good,” I said.

“You have any idea how that came to pass?” Brian said.

“Yes.”

“But you don’t want to share?”

“It’s not something you should know,” I said.

“Not you?” Brian said.

“No.”

“You have anything to do with it?”

“I might have gotten the ball rolling,” I said.

“Richie Burke?”

“No.”

Brian paused for a moment and thought.

“Richie put you in touch,” he said. “His family applied some pressure.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Are you sorry he’s dead?”

“Hell, no,” Brian said. “I’m just trying to figure out where to send the medal. You want me to call Framingham, let them know?”

“No,” I said. “I’ll call Anderson. He was a pretty good guy in all of this.”

“Me, too,” Brian said.

“Yes,” I said. “Especially you, too.”

Again we were quiet. Brian reached over and poured himself more coffee.

“So it’s over,” he said.

“Except for Millicent,” I said.

“How about us,” Brian said. “Is it over for us?”

I felt myself tense. I knew we’d have to have this conversation, but I didn’t like it any better because I knew it was coming. I nodded slowly.

“Yes,” I said.

Brian’s face was tight, and his eyes were flat. He wasn’t liking this conversation either.

“Richie?” he said.

“Yes.”

Brian scratched Rosie’s chin with his toe. I’m sure he wasn’t aware that he did it.

“You together again?”

“No.”

“Then...?”

“We’re not apart enough either,” I said.

“Don’t you think maybe you ought to come to some terms with that?” Brian said.

“Yes.”

“But you haven’t.”

“Not yet,” I said.

“He was very helpful to you through this bad patch with Kragan and all,” Brian said.

“Yes.”

“Don’t be fooled by gratitude,” Brian said.

I nodded.

“I hope I’m not.”

Brian drank some coffee. The lines at the corners of his mouth had deepened.

“Well, people don’t love you just because you want them to,” he said.

“I know.”

“We did have fun,” he said.

“Yes,” I said. “We did, and if it stayed fun, it could have gone on. I can have fun without Richie. But it was becoming more than fun. And I’m not sure I can have more than fun with anyone but Richie.”

“Well,” Brian said, “if you find that you can, check with me, see if I’m free.”

“You’re a very lovely man, Brian. You deserve more than I have available right now.”

“I’d settle for what you have,” he said.

“I know,” I said. “That’s the sad part. But we both know it wouldn’t work out. Once you had it you’d want more, and you’d have a right to more, and there wouldn’t be more, and... it would be bad.”

Brian stood.

“You’re right,” he said. “I wish you weren’t, but I’m too old to pretend you’re not.”

I stood with him. And put my arms around his waist. He kissed me. And we stood in that embrace for a while.

“I hope you and Richie work it out,” he said. “Either way. I hope you settle it.”

His voice was hoarse. I nodded. I was too close to crying to say anything. He stepped away from me and went to the door and opened it.

“See you around, Sunny Randall,” he said.

And the door closed behind him. Rosie sniffed vigorously at it, her tail wagging fast, as Brian went down the stairs.