Goodnight, Irene

6

IWOKE UP STARTLED by my surroundings, then remembered where I was and why. I was tired even after eight hours of sleep. The morning sun was shining in through the bedroom window, and I heard the sound of Lydia’s car starting up and pulling out of the drive. I had that weird feeling I get sometimes when I sleep at other people’s houses: The bed was oriented differently from my own at home, so I had the sensation of having slept with my head at the foot of the bed.

Cody stretched and yawned and I followed suit, and we both got out of bed. I wasn’t exactly shocked that Lydia had breakfast all laid out for me-cereal, fresh fruit, and a note saying to make myself at home and that she’d see me after work. An envelope marked “spare key” was under the note.

I ate and then called my office.

“Good morning, Malloy and Marlowe,” came the sugar-coated greeting.

“Can you say that three times fast, Clarissa?”

“Oh-hello, Irene. Where are you? Kevin said if you called in, to tell you that you could have a few days off if you’d like.”

“What?”

“Kevin told me about what happened to your friend-he showed me the article in the paper. Kevin said that he had really loved the guy who got killed and that you were almost like the guy’s daughter or something, so he didn’t expect you in for a few days. I’m really sorry it happened, Irene.”

All morning I had wondered what I’d tell Kevin, who seldom takes no for an answer; but I had failed to keep in mind just how much Kevin and O’Connor had meant to each other. The two of them had been friends for many years.

Clarissa was babbling on. “Hey-somebody called for you. A man. Asked if you were in this morning, but wouldn’t leave a name. Said he’d call back later to see if you had come in.”

The hairs on my neck stood on end.

“Did you recognize the voice?”

“Nope, not one of our regular clients, that much I know. You got a new boyfriend or something?”

“Huh? Oh, no. No, I don’t know who it could have been. Look, Clarissa, if he calls back and won’t leave his name, don’t tell him I called, okay? Just tell him you don’t know when I’ll be in, all right?”

That was fine with Clarissa, who was quite used to telling callers something other than the truth when they asked about the whereabouts of Malloy Marlowe employees.

I dreaded the next call. I knew I’d have to talk to my sister, but I was worried about flying off the handle with her, betraying my knowledge of Kenny’s being at her house yesterday before she was ready to tell me herself. I took a lot of deep breaths, took long strides around the den while swinging my arms up over my head to throw off some of the tension.

Cody, perched on the back of Lydia’s couch, looked at me as if I were a lunatic.

I made the call.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Hello, Barbara. It’s Irene.”

“Oh, Irene. Do you know where Kenny’s car is?”

“Your father-in-law, my best friend, is dead-no, make that murdered-and the first thing you ask me about is Kenny’s fucking car?!?”

There was silence on the other end of the line. I’d blown it already.

“Barbara, I’m sorry. I’m a mess. A real mess.” Deep breath.

Still no response. I waited.

“No need to be foul-mouthed, Irene. Mama would be so ashamed to hear you talk like that.”

“I’m sorry.” Damn that bitch for trying to invoke our dead mother to stop me from swearing. Frank was asking too much. But I couldn’t think of anyone else besides Kenny who could tell me what might be behind all of this. And Barbara was the only way I could find Kenny.

“Kenny’s car was towed by the police after my window was shot out,” I said. “We don’t know if they shot my window out because of the car or not, but since Kenny hadn’t been truth-since Kenny wasn’t where the police thought he’d be, they thought it’d be better to keep the car out from in front of other people’s houses; the last two houses it was parked in front of didn’t fare too well.”

“So that’s what happened to your window?”

“That’s what happened to my window. And my armchair. And nearly to me and someone who happened to be in my living room.”

“Not Granddad’s armchair?”

“The very one,” I said, clenching my teeth at her priorities. “Barbara, if you know where Kenny is, you’d better call the police and ask for Detective Frank Harriman in Homicide. I’m not kidding around about this.”

Silence.

I decided to try another approach.

“Barbara, Kenny’s life is in danger. And, for that matter, until he talks to the police, so is mine.” I refrained from mentioning how much of our grandparents’ furniture might also be at risk.

“So you think he’s in danger, too?”

“What do you mean, ‘too’?”

She hesitated. Apparently she was figuring out that by asking me about the car, she had as much as admitted that she’d seen him yesterday.

“You really hate him, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t,” I lied, “I just felt protective of you after the divorce. I didn’t like how he treated you, or all the hurtful things he said to you then. I feel protective of you now, Barbara. I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

She mulled this over.

“Kenny wasn’t himself then, Irene. He was having a crisis.”

Right, I thought. Temporary insanity. Unfortunately, Barbara took this silence as meaning she needed to keep selling me on him.

“I know he said some awful things, but he’s taken them all back. He’s begged my forgiveness.”

I’ll bet he has, I thought. Out loud I said, “So you’ve seen him?”

More hesitation. “He was here yesterday. Irene, the poor man is scared out of his wits. He’s upset about his dad, but he’s sure someone’s after him, too.”

“He thinks someone wanted to kill both of them?”

“Yes. Yes, exactly.”

“Did he say why he thought someone would want to kill him?” Impatience was creeping back into my tone.

“You don’t believe him?”

“Yes, I believe him. Not a doubt in my mind that’s true.”

This appeased her. “Well, then you can see why I couldn’t refuse to help him in his hour of need.”

His hour of need? Kenny had a lifetime of need.

“But did he tell you why they are trying to kill him?” I pressed.

“No, Irene, he didn’t want to put me in danger. He told me that he had already lost his father and he couldn’t stand to lose me. That’s why he didn’t want to leave the car in front of my house. He said everyone knew that deep down he still loved me, and that this is the first place they’d look for him.”

“But it was okay to park the car next door to my house?”

“Kenny said it would be safe there.”

Well, he was right. The car was safe. It was Frank and I who almost got in line right behind O’Connor at the Pearly Gates.

“Irene?”

“Yeah, Barbara?” I was suddenly feeling weary and depressed.

“I’m really sorry putting the car there caused you trouble.”

“You had no way of knowing. Don’t worry about it. Where’s Kenny now?”

“I promised not to tell.”

“Barbara, it’s literally a matter of life and death. Please tell me.”

“I’m his wife. You can’t make me testify against him.”

“You’re his ex-wife, and we aren’t in a courtroom. If you’re happy he’s come back, more power to you. I mean that. Be happy. But for God’s sakes, Barbara, someone is trying to kill me, so tell me where he is.”

“They weren’t trying to kill you, Irene. They were after Kenny.”

I wasn’t getting anywhere. I decided to pick up a rather cruel cue stick and play dirty pool.

“Barbara, what would our mother say to do?”

I knew this would get to her. I prayed my mother would forgive me. After all, as Barbara and I used to say when we were children, she started it.

“I’ll think about it. What was that policeman’s name?”

“Detective Frank Harriman.”

“I’ll tell you what. If I see Kenny, I’ll tell him what happened to your window, and that you think they’re trying to kill you. I’ll ask him if it’s okay to tell you where he is.”

This idea did not seem likely to bear fruit. But it was obvious that if Mom couldn’t make her do it, I couldn’t begin to budge her out of this position.

“Okay, but please think about blood being thicker than water and all that. I need you, too, Barbara.”

That really confused her. “Where are you anyway? I just tried calling you at work and they said you wouldn’t be in today. Are you at home?”

“No, but you can leave a message on my machine or get in touch with me through Detective Harriman. I’m-I’m going to be moving around a lot. I’ll keep checking in with you, okay?”

“Okay,” she said uncertainly.

“I have to handle it this way, Barbara.”

“I know…Irene?”

“Yeah.”

“Is there going to be a funeral for O’Connor?”

I thought of the men with forceps and plastic bags, but shook it off.

“I guess that will be up to Kenny. But he’s probably too upset to deal with that right now.”

“I’d like to have-I don’t know-a wake or something for him.”

“He’d like that, I’m sure. We may have to wait awhile, though, because of the investigation.”

“Yeah, well, anyway, I don’t know how to give a wake, do you?”

Ah, the plight of second generation Irish-Americans-proud of the culture but not knowing near enough about it. Granddad would have known. Dad may have. We had never been to a wake.

“No, Barbara, but call Great Aunt Mary. She can tell you how.”

“Well, I’m sure there’s more to it than Chieftains’ records and a bunch of booze.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

“I’m going to miss him.”

“Me too.”

“Oh, of course.”

Of course, I thought.

“Take care of yourself, Barbara.”

“You too, Irene.”

What an ungodly mess, I thought, as I hung up the phone.

I TOOK THE SPARE KEY from the envelope and watched the street from a window at the front of the house. No dark blue Lincolns or shiny red Corvettes. Still, I felt scared going out of the house.

I climbed into the Karmann Ghia and headed for the Thai section of town, feeling a craving for satay and pad Thai. But as I drove, I decided I should let Frank know what Barbara had said, and stopped at a phone booth to invite him to join me. I called his work number.

“Homicide,” said a deep male voice.

“Frank Harriman, please.”

I found myself watching the street while I waited for Frank to pick up the phone.

“Harriman.”

“Frank?”

His tone was abrupt. “Where are you calling from?”

“A pay phone in Little Thailand.”

He relaxed. “I was going to call you in a minute anyway. Are you getting antsy?”

“A little. Frank, are you having Barbara followed?”

A pause. “Yes.”

“Good. I don’t think Kenny’s with her now, but I’m almost certain she’ll be in touch with him later today.”

“You’ve talked to her?”

“Yes. Can you meet me for lunch at the Thai Royal over on Broadway and Pacific?”

“Give me about twenty minutes.”

I WAS FAIRLY SURE I wasn’t followed to the restaurant. It was about eleven-thirty, and Sam, the owner, was just setting up in preparation for the noon crowd.

“Miss Kelly!” he greeted me. Then his face fell. “We were very sorry to hear about Mr. O’Connor. We liked him very much. I know you have lost a good companion.”

“Thanks, Sam. Can you get me one of your private booths? And when a tall gentleman with scratch marks on the right side of his face comes in, will you please show him to my table?”

Sam beamed at the thought of my meeting a gentleman, scratches or no, and happily showed me to a booth behind a curtain made of wooden beads. He and Roselynn, his wife, had been concerned about my single status for years.

We talked for a while, then he brought me a Tsingtao beer. As I drank it, I watched the restaurant start to fill up.

Frank was late.