Melancholy Baby

“That could be quite burdensome for a young girl. Particularly if her mother was problematic.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” I said. “I wanted to kill my mother and marry my father? That’s so trite.”

“I normally try to avoid using terms like ‘oedipal,’ ” Dr. Silverman said. “It is merely a label, and as such is not very useful.”

“Then why the hell are we talking about it.”

Dr. Silverman smiled and didn’t answer.

“Because I introduced the damn term,” I said.

“I think you did,” Dr. Silverman said.

24

I had just cleaned up after breakfast with Sarah when the phone rang.

“Sunny Randall?” a voice said.

“Yes.”

It was a whispery voice, as if someone wanted to disguise it.

“I got information about that Sarah Markham case you’re working on.”

“Would you like to give it to me?” I said.

“You know the Middlesex Fells?”

“I do.”

“Road runs along the south edge of the woods?” the voice said. “West of Route Ninety-three?”

“Border Road,” I said.

“Drive there and park anywhere on Border Road. We’ll find you.”

“When?”

“When can you get there?” the whispery voice said.

“Noon,” I said.

“Noon,” the voice whispered, and they hung up.

It was 8:30. They were generous with their lead time. Which is dumb. Or amateurish. Or both. I called Spike.

“I need you to be in the woods off Border Road in the Middlesex Fells by eleven a.m. at the latest.”

“Sure,” Spike said. “Gun or no gun.”

“Gun,” I said.

“Okay,” Spike said, “tell me about it.”

I told him.

“Ah,” Spike said. “Movement of some sort. Could it be a feint, and they are after the girl?”

“The thought occurred,” I said. “I’m making an arrangement.”

“Okay,” Spike said. “I’ll be there.”

“Don’t forget your cell phone.”

“Or my gun,” Spike said. “Or my head.”

I hung up and dialed again and got Tony Marcus.

“Sunny Randall,” he said. “Always a pleasure.”

“I need a favor.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Tony said. “Doing favors for Sunny Randall.”

“I need someone to babysit my dog, Rosie...”

“That funny-looking little one with the nose?”

“The beautiful little one with the classic features,” I said, “and a young, scared white woman who is hiding in my apartment.”

“And why was it I would do that?” Tony said.

“Because you like me,” I said. “You’ve told me that often.”

“I do like you, Sunny Randall, except sometimes when you’re annoying me.”

“It’s only a couple of hours,” I said. “I’ll owe you.”

“That’s important,” Tony Marcus said. “What the hell can you do to pay off a debt to me?”

“Don’t be picky,” I said.

Tony gave a deep, soft laugh.

“Can’t send you Junior and Ty-Bop,” he said. “They doing something with me.”

“I don’t want to know,” I said.

“No, you don’t,” Tony said. “Send you a guy named Leonard.”

“Is he any good?”

“ ’Course he good,” Tony said. “Nobody work for me ain’t good.”

“Does he like dogs?”

“Leonard don’t much like anything,” Tony said. “One reason he good.”

“But he’ll be courteous to both.”

“The dog and the white girl? Yes.”

“I need him now,” I said.

“Here he come,” Tony said. “You still wired with the Burkes?”

“No.”

“What about Richie?”

“He got married.”

There was silence on the line for a moment.

Then Tony said, “Oh, well. Can’t hurt to have Phil Randall’s daughter owe me something.”

“My father’s retired,” I said.

“You trying to talk me out of this,” Tony said.

“No. I need the help.”

“He be ringing your doorbell in about five more minutes,” Tony said.

25

Leonard was very black, with good cheekbones. He had on a pinstripe suit and a white shirt with a pin collar and a white silk tie. His head was shaved. He wore a moustache and goatee, and he smelled of very good cologne.

I had already explained Leonard to Sarah. She looked sort of titillated when I introduced them. Rosie came over and smelled his ankle. Leonard looked down at Rosie with no expression at all. Then he went over to the breakfast table and sat.

“Coffee?” he said.

“Fresh pot,” I said. “Sarah will pour you some.”

He nodded. Sarah got the coffee. I crouched down to kiss Rosie goodbye. Then I stood and got my bag, and checked. Car keys? Gun? Cell phone? Oakleys?

“Nobody in or out,” I said to Leonard. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“What if you’re not,” Sarah said.

“Leonard will stay with you until I am.”

“But, I mean, what if something happens?” she said.

I scribbled Phil Randall and a phone number on the blackboard.

“My father,” I said. “He used to be a cop. He’ll know what to do.”

Leonard was drinking coffee out of one of my big, white diner-style mugs. He held the mug softly in both hands.

“Do you have a gun?” Sarah said to him.

Looking at her over the rim of the mug, Leonard nodded.

“Don’t answer my phone,” I said.

I smiled at Rosie and said, “Bye-bye,” and went out the front door and down the steps to my car.

26

At five minutes past eleven, I was driving on South Border Road through thick woods in the Middlesex Fells Reservation. The reservation was probably ten miles from downtown Boston, but it felt like the Canadian Rockies driving through it.

I dialed Spike’s cell phone.

When he answered, I said, “I’m in the woods, driving west.”

“Keep coming,” Spike said. “I’m about a half mile in.”