Melancholy Baby

“I mean, she’s twenty-one, and with my help she discovered that she’s alone.”

“And you feel responsible?”

“Not for finding out things. That’s what I do. But... on the drive back from New York, I gave her a small lecture on it. She was responsible for herself. She needs to stop smoking, stop the drugs, stop sleeping around, stop drinking too much.”

Dr. Silverman smiled.

“And was that effective?” she said.

“Of course not. She needs a shrink.”

“What you have done, which may be more effective, is to give her an image of competent adult womanhood, living alone.”

I smiled.

“And needing a shrink,” I said.

Dr. Silverman acknowledged what I said with a small single nod.

“Would you see her if she wanted to come?” I said.

“Have her call me,” Dr. Silverman said.

We were quiet. Dr. Silverman seemed perfectly comfortable with quiet.

After a while, I said, “I had a good talk with Richie the other day.”

“Really?” Dr. Silverman said. “What made it good?”

“He told me things about himself that he’d never told me when we were married.”

Dr. Silverman nodded. She was leaning forward a little in her chair, resting her chin on her fist.

“He also said he still loved me... more than his wife... and he told me it’s never over until it’s over.”

“Do you think that solves your problems?”

“I... I don’t... it made me feel thrilled and hopeful,” I said. “But I suppose it’s a little soon.”

She nodded very slightly, but I knew she thought it was a little soon, too.

“And there is the wife,” I said.

“And there is the wife,” Dr. Silverman said. “Do you think he’s changed?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But I think I have.”

“How so,” Dr. Silverman said.

“Well,” I said, “I had lunch again with my father.”

“Let’s talk about that,” she said.

63

I was doing lunges up and down the length of my loft. Rosie kept a foot in front of me, looking at me over her shoulder, getting in the way, and having a nice time. The cordless phone rang. I picked it up and kept going and said, “Hello.”

“Sunny,” a man said, “this is Felix Burke.”

“Uncle Felix!” I said.

He was a pretty bad man but a pretty good uncle, and he kept his word. I kind of liked him.

“You got a cop you trust?” he said.

“Several,” I said.

“Well, bring one of them and meet me at Richie’s place at two.”

“The saloon?”

“The saloon,” Felix said, and hung up.

Through the magic of cell-phone technology, I found Brian Kelly and he agreed to pick me up at 1:30. Then Rosie and I had a late breakfast. I took a shower and put on my makeup and got dressed. I noticed I was unusually careful about which clothes I wore. Brian and I had enjoyed an interlude shortly after Richie and I had parted. Things linger.

At 1:35, Rosie and I got into Brian’s car outside my loft. I opened the passenger door, and Rosie jumped in and settled into the passenger seat. I had to pick her up and put her on my lap so that I could sit.

“I think it’s against regulations to transport animals in a City of Boston police car,” Brian said.

“Unless they are exceptionally cute,” I said.

“That would cover all three of us,” Brian said.

Richie’s place was down an alley off School Street, past the old City Hall. Brian parked the car, as illegally as was possible, up on the sidewalk past the Parker House. It was ten minutes before two.

“Let’s sit,” I said. “Felix likes things to go the way he said they should go.”

“There’s a limit,” Brian said, “to how much I care what Felix likes.”

“He’s doing us the favor,” I said.

“Whatever it is,” Brian said.

We sat until two, then got out and walked across the street and into the saloon. Felix was sitting in the first booth on the left, across from a strong-looking young man with a square face and receding black hair, which he wore long on the sides and combed back straight. I knew Richie wouldn’t be there. And he wasn’t. Rosie dashed around behind the bar, looking for him. The bartender reached under the bar and came up with a long chew stick. Rosie sniffed it, and grabbed it, and joined Brian and me as we sat in the booth opposite Felix. Felix scratched her absently behind the ear.

“Brian Kelly,” I said. “Felix Burke.”

“We’ve met,” Brian said.

“This is Tommy Noon,” Felix said.” He’s got some things to tell you.”

Noon looked at Felix. “Off the record?”

“Tommy,” Felix said. “You’re on my record already.”

“We can listen off the record for now,” Brian said.

“I give you something, helps you out, maybe we can deal?”

“We might work something out,” Brian said.

“Guy comes up from New York, offers me ten to whack a guy named Markham?”

“You do it?” Brian said.

Tommy glanced at Felix and got nothing back.

“Yeah,” Tommy said.

“Who’s the guy?”

“He didn’t gimme his name.”

“How do you know he’s from New York?” I said.

“He said so.”

“How’d he pay you?” Brian said.

“Cash, all hundreds.”

“Describe him,” I said.

“Kind of short, maybe five-eight, kinda fat, soft-looking. Big horn-rimmed glasses. Sort of fluty, you know, college guy, thinks he’s important.”

Harvey Delk.

“Could you identify him if you saw him?” I said.

“Sure.”

“You know who this guy is?” Brian said to me.

I nodded.