Only Child

“She did. And I promised I’d tell you anything you want to know. So fire away.”

“You understand what I’m trying to—”

“You’re trying to catch whoever did it. Hazel told me.”

“That’s right. So if some of the questions I ask seem—”

“I’m not one who believes you can harm the dead. Let’s get on with it.”

“Vonni was your babysitter?”

“Sure was. And the best I’ve ever had. She was never late; never minded staying late, even if I only called to tell her at the last minute. She never went into the liquor cabinet, never had boys over —”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but how would you know that for sure?”

“That she didn’t have boys over?”

“Yes.”

“The houses around here, they’re not exactly estates. You probably saw that for yourself, driving over. Now, my neighbors on the right,” she said, pointing in that direction, “the Feinbergs, they’re experts at minding their own business. But on the left, Mrs. North, she’s an expert at minding mine.”

“And she’d notice if—”

“She’d notice if a new butterfly landed on a bush, never mind a young man coming around when I wasn’t home. She’d be over here in a flash, that poison tongue of hers ready for work, I promise you that.”

“But she’s not home all the time, is she?”

“Isn’t she? The woman’s in a wheelchair. Never goes out, except to the doctor, to hear her tell it. Her husband’s not home much, I give you that. Poor man. Between working two jobs and listening to her rant, he’d probably rather put in a third shift if he could.”

“If she’s in a wheelchair, how would she get...Or do you mean she’d call you on the phone?”

“I mean exactly what I say,” Lottie said. “That husband of hers built her a ramp and a little runway. Right up to my back door, he did, without even asking. So, when I saw what he was doing, it was me who asked him, what did he think he was up to? And he says, well, Flo, that’s the wife, he says Flo said she’d talked it over with me and that’s what we both wanted. He was all ready to build another ramp so she could just roll right into my house.”

“And you stopped him?”

“No,” she chuckled, “I sure didn’t. I took pity on the poor soul. I didn’t want him to have to go back and tell that harridan she wasn’t getting her little ‘access road.’ Ever since, whenever Flo’s got anything to report, you can be sure she does it in person.”

“She’s got the area under surveillance, huh?”

“That’s the right word,” she said, laughing. “Most of the time she comes over here, it’s to give me the lowdown on the rest of our neighbors. I suspect her of having binoculars, but I’ve never caught her at it.”

“Your own Neighborhood Watch.”

“Don’t think for a second she isn’t. And I won’t pretend it isn’t kind of a comfort, sometimes.”

“How old is your baby?”

“Baby? Oh, you mean my son. He’s no baby. But he’s not big enough to be left on his own. He’s only ten. And got himself some bad asthma, besides. So he wants watching.”

She stood up, went over to the cabinets, moved enough stuff around to let me know she wasn’t going to force me into a staredown when she said whatever was coming next. “The reason I need a babysitter so much is, I’ve got a boyfriend. His name’s Lewis, and he’s a wonderful, gentle man. But Hugh never took to him, because of his father, so I can’t really spend much time with Lewis here. And certainly not at night...”

“Did Hugh get along with Vonni?” I asked, before she went driving down her own road.

“Get along? He adored her. Told me a thousand times he was going to marry her when he got big enough. He’s got a real contrary streak in him—gets it from his mother—but he minded Vonni like she was an angel from heaven. Now I guess she is....”

I never know what to say to a woman who’s crying, even when it’s not me who made her cry. I reached over and took her hand, letting it run its course.

It took her less than a minute to get back in control. “That’s the Irish blood for you. If there’s one thing we know from the cradle, it’s how to grieve. Nobody really dies if they’re still being mourned.”

“That’s true,” I said.

“You know that for a fact, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“That tattoo on your right hand. A hollow heart. That’s for someone who’s gone? Someone you loved?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, I’ll bet that’s a story.”

“Not one it comforts me to tell,” I said. “What do you think about me speaking with your son?”

“You might not be thanking me in a little while, but, sure,” she said. “He’s right out back.”

The yard was mostly dirt, with a few patches of burnt grass and one wiry little tree. I admired that tree. I don’t know anything about horticulture, but I know tough when I see it.

A little boy was sitting on a wooden milk crate, in the middle of a meager patch of shade the tree had wrestled from the sun. As we walked toward him, I saw he was talking earnestly to a short, blunt-bodied, mostly black dog.

“Hugh, this is my friend Burke,” his mother said. “He wants a word with you.”

The kid looked up at me, his left hand resting on the dog’s head. “What about?”

“About Vonni, son,” she said gently.

“I knew you’d come,” the kid said.

I squatted down, held out my hand to shake. “I’m pleased to meet you,” I told him.

He shook, gravely, not speaking.

“That’s a great-looking animal you have.”

“He’s the best dog.”

“I can see he’s all class. What’s his name?”

“The Brains of the Outfit.”

“Uh, okay. What do you call him?”

“The Brains of the Outfit,” the boy said, the way you explain the obvious to the dull-witted.

“Don’t pay any attention to him, Burke,” Lottie said. “Hugh loves those old gangster movies.”

“What did you mean before,” I asked him, “when you said you knew I’d come? Did Vonni’s mother—?”

“She was killed, right?” he said, his voice hard against the pain.

“Yes, she was.”

“And they never caught the guy.”

“The police—”

“Those coppers couldn’t find their—”

“Hugh! You watch your mouth,” his mother cautioned.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. But, Mom, I know who he is.”

“You know who Burke is, son? Is that what you mean?”

“I know who he really is,” the kid said, utterly certain, letting his eyes travel over my face. “You’ve been in the Big House, right?”

“A long time ago,” I said, trusting whatever kept me from a glib lie.

“Nah. Not so long ago. I know.”

“How would you know something like that?” I asked him.

“I told you. I know who you are.”

“Okay,” I said. “Who am I?”

“You’re Vonni’s father,” he said, stone-sure. “And you came for payback.”