Jimmy the Kid

"Right," Kelp said. "His name is Jimmy Harrington. His father's a lawyer on Wall Street, in the firm of McIntire, Loeb, Sanderson and Chen. He's a partner there."

Dortmunder said, "He's a partner? I thought his name was Harrington."

"It is," Kelp said.

"There isn't any Harrington in the company name. Just those other people."

"McIntire," Kelp said, "Loeb, Sanderson and Chen."

"Right," Dortmunder said. "That bunch. If Harrington's a partner, where's his name?"

"They got a whole bunch of partners," Kelp said. "I saw a piece of their stationery, there's this whole line of names down the left side, they're all partners. I think maybe McIntire, Loeb, Sanderson and Chen are maybe the first partners."

"The founders," May suggested.

"I get it," Dortmunder said. "Okay, fine."

"Anyway," Kelp said, "Harrington is maybe fifty-five, he's got four grown-up kids and grandchildren, the whole thing. He's also got a second wife, and she's got grown-up kids. But when they got married they had a kid together, and that's Jimmy. The father's name is Herbert and the mother's name is Claire."

"I feel sorry for the mother," May said. "She's going to feel terrible."

"Maybe," Kelp said. "She and Herbert broke up six years ago, she lives down in Palm Beach, Florida. From what I found out so far, she hasn't been north in six years, and I don't think Jimmy travels south. Jimmy lives out on the family estate in New Jersey, way over by Pennsylvania."

Rollo came in with May's beer while Kelp was saying that; he put it on the table, looked around, and said, "Everybody set?"

"We're fine," Dortmunder said.

"The beer and salt and his mother didn't show up yet," Rollo said.

"They'll be along," Dortmunder said.

"I'll send them back," Rollo said, and went out front again.

May said to Kelp, "How did you find out all this?"

"There's a little town out near the estate," Kelp said. "I went out there and hung around in a bar and talked to a couple guys. The guy that drives the oil truck that makes deliveries there, and a carpenter that did some work on the estate, and a bulldozer operator that worked there when they put in their swimming pool a couple years ago."

"They didn't have a swimming pool before?" May asked.

"No. The estate's on the Delaware River. Only I guess the river isn't so hot for swimming any more. Anyway, these guys told me the story. Workmen like to talk about their rich clients, it's one of their fringe benefits."

"Sure," May said. "So the mother left six years ago, and the boy lives on the estate with his father."

"Sometimes," Kelp said. "The father has an apartment in town. The kid comes in three afternoons a week, Monday and Wednesday and Friday, and sees some specialist in that apartment building on Central Park West. Fridays, after he's done there-"

'What specialist does he see?"

"I can't find out," Kelp said. "There's all kinds of medical people, and specialty therapists, and I don't know what in that building. And it's tough to hang around in there. And the maintenance people don't know Jimmy Harrington from a special delivery letter. Anyway, when he leaves there on Fridays, he goes down to Wall Street in the limousine, and his father rides out to the estate with him. The father stays there all weekend, and rides in with him on Mondays. But Monday to Friday the father stays in town."

"The boy's all alone out in the estate?" May was truly shocked.

"There's four servants that live in," Kelp said. "The chauffeur, and the-"

The door opened and Murch's Mom came in, followed by Murch. They were both carrying beers, and Murch was also carrying a saltshaker. May looked up and said, "So there you are."

"It's real nice out there," Murch's Mom said. She sat down at the table, placing the beer in front of her. "Especially at this time of year, with the leaves all turning."

"We thought you got lost," May said.

"Naw," Murch said. "It's simple. You go out 80, you get off at the Hope interchange, you take county road 519. Our big problem was, we had a hell of a time finding an abandoned farmhouse."

"I knew it," Dortmunder said. He gave a triumphant glare toward the book lying on the table in front of Kelp.

Kelp said, "But you did find one, huh?"

"Yeah, finally." Murch shook his head. "All the abandoned farmhouses out there, people from the city already went out and found them and bought them and filled them up with fancy barn siding and cloth wallpaper and made country houses out of them."

"They've all got Great Danes," Murch's Mom said. "We went out some of those driveways pretty fast."

"But the point is," Kelp said, "you did find an abandoned farmhouse."

"It's a mess," Murch said. "There isn't any electricity, and there isn't any plumbing. There's a well out back, with a handle thing that you pump."

Murch's Mom nodded. "It's not like anything in the twentieth century," she said.

"But it's isolated," Kelp suggested. "Is it?"

"Oh, yeah," Murch said. "It's isolated, all right. Way to hell and gone isolated."