“The first Mrs. Walton Weeks,” Jesse said.
“Yes,” the woman said. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I live in Italy and I only recently heard about Walton.”
H I G H P R O F I L E
“I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Migliore,” Jesse said.
“Ellen, please,” she said. “I have been away from Walton too long for this to be painful. But I was married to him for five years and I liked him.”
Jesse nodded.
“What can I do for you, Ellen?”
“No, Chief, it’s what can I do for you?”
“Jesse,” he said. “That’s why you came here? From Italy?”
“Yes,” she said. “Genoa.”
“Do you have anything specific?” Jesse said.
“No,” she said. “I knew Walton a long time ago. But I knew him well, and I care. Are there funeral arrangements yet?”
Jesse nodded.
“Lorrie?”
“Yes, as soon as the ME released the body. It was a quick and private ceremony.”
“ME?” she said.
“Medical examiner,” Jesse said.
Ellen Migliore nodded and dropped her head for a moment and was silent.
Then she said, “Poor Walton.”
Jesse nodded.
“So alone,” Ellen said.
Jesse nodded.
“He was always so alone,” Ellen said.
“Always?”
“Probably always. Certainly when I knew him.”
“Even when he was with you?” Jesse said.
1 2 1
R O B E R T B . P A R K E R
“With anyone and everyone,” Ellen said.
“Talk about that,” Jesse said.
He was back in his chair now, perfectly still, one foot propped, hands folded. Rain misted on the window behind him. In the month of May there had been five clear days.
“It was as if he knew a secret,” she said. “A sad secret that only he knew, and it kept him a little separate from
