'About what?' he said, although he knew exactly what.
Lyle said, 'Faith, god. All that.'
That was a little too personal for Jack. He didn't even tell anyone his last name, so he wasn't about to discuss religion with a couple of guys he hadn't known a week. Besides, it wasn't a subject he gave much thought to. In his world, the unseeable and unknowable simply hadn't much mattered.
Until lately.
'I'm pretty much for whatever gets you through the day, as long as you don't start insisting it's the way everyone should get through the day.'
'That ain't tellin' nothin'.'
'Okay, then, I can tell you that whatever I did believe has been pretty much turned upside down in the past few months.'
Lyle looked at him. 'All that stuff you told us about the Otherness?'
Jack nodded.
'Here's my problem,' Lyle said. 'I have just as much trouble believing in your Otherness as I do in Charlie's personal God.'
'How about Tara Portman?' Jack said. 'And what's been going on in this house? That's not hearsay. You've been here. It's your own experience.'
Lyle's cheeks puffed as he let out a breath. 'Yeah, I know. This is terra nova for me. I never believed in ghosts or life after death, or even the soul. I assumed when you died you were gone forever. Now... I'm not so sure.'
Jack said, 'Then maybe we should stop jawing and dig up this terra nova.'
Lyle laughed. 'Excellent idea!'
The Best of Muddy Waters was in the boombox tray. Jack turned up 'Mannish Boy' loud enough to make conversation a chore, then went to work.
By late afternoon, with another Gatorade break somewhere in the middle, they'd pocked the surface of the dirt with holes but hadn't come across a single bone.
'We've only been going down three feet or so,' Lyle said. 'Maybe that's not deep enough.'
Jack leaned on his shovel. 'Hate to think they went the full traditional six.'
'Might have. Especially if they wanted to be sure of not having any telltale odors. Which means we have to go down six.'
Jack's T-shirt was soaked. He looked around. The pile of smashed paneling and broken concrete already took up one end of the cellar. They'd added some of the dirt to it, but they'd be running out of room soon.
'You're talking a lot of dirt.'
'Tell me about it. Look, I know it's been a long day, but I'd like to keep after this.'
'There's always tomorrow,' Jack said.
Charlie stopped digging and looked at his brother. 'No there ain't.'
Jack opened his mouth but Lyle cut him off.
'Don't ask. Look, why don't we take another break and see if we can come up with a systematic way of going about finding her.'
Jack glanced at his watch. 'I've got an errand to run, but I should be back in an hour and a half or so.'
'I'm going to have to bail soon myself. That Forest Hills women's club thing.'
'That's right,' Charlie said. 'Everybody run off and leave baby brother to do all the work.'
Jack laughed. 'I'll be back to help out as soon as I can.'
'Where're you off to?' Lyle said.
'To make sure the last piece of the Tara Portman puzzle fits where I think it does.'
2
As Jack rode the N train back to Manhattan he debated stopping off at his place or Gia's and taking a shower. He damn sure needed one. By the time he reached the decision point at Fifty-ninth Street, he decided it would take too much time. He stayed on the train as it turned downtown. When he reached SoHo he made a quick pass by Bellitto's store and noted the sturgeon was no longer in the window. Too bad; he'd kind of liked it. Took a peek through the glass of the door and saw the older woman with the jet-black hair helping a customer. She was the one he wanted to talk to. He'd got the impression she'd grown old with the store. But Kevin was there too, behind the counter.
He moved on, frustrated.
Damn. He'd hoped this would be the kid's day off. No sign of Bellitto or the gorilla-armed Minkin though, which was good. Doubted they'd recognize him after their encounter in the dark, but didn't want to take the chance. This was primarily an information-gathering trip, with maybe a little cage-rattling bonus thrown in. He knew he'd eventually have to deal with those two before they zeroed in on another kid. But Bellitto was laid up for the present, so Jack had some time to plan his course.
Jack found a shady doorway with a view of the front of the shop and waited, watching the shadows lengthen and the traffic thicken. Evening was edging into the picture and he didn't have all that much time, but there was always a chance Kevin would clock out or make a Starbucks run. He needed to talk to the lady alone. If he couldn't do it face to face, he'd try the phone, but that would be settling for second best.
He thought about what Gia had told him about the mystery cop from the unknown precinct. He didn't like anyone, maybe cops especially, knocking on Gia's door and asking the whereabouts of her daughter. Nobody's damn business but Gia's. And Jack's too, sometimes.
He pulled out his Tracfone and called her to see if the cop had stopped back. She said no. All quiet on the East Side. He told her they hadn't found anything yet at Menelaus Manor and not to wait dinner for him-he'd be late tonight. She sounded tired. She hadn't been sleeping well. He told her to take a nap and she said she might just do that.
After saying good-bye, Jack turned off the phone. Didn't want Bellitto calling him again. Let him wonder. Let him stew.
Jack's patience finally was rewarded by the sight of Kevin stepping out and hurrying down the sidewalk. Didn't know how long he'd be gone so Jack hustled over to the shop.
'Yes, sir?' the woman behind the counter boomed as he entered. She had a mannish build, with broad shoulders and a hefty frame. Above her Richard Belzer face her black hair looked spit shined. She eyed his sweat- stained T-shirt, dirty jeans, and grimy hands with poorly disguised disdain. Obviously he didn't look like a typical Shurio Coppe customer.
Knew I should have showered, he thought.
He decided to adopt a personality to go with the look. He rounded his shoulders and made only the briefest eye contact.
'Um...'
'Are you looking to buy something, sir?'
'Uh, well, no, y'see,' he said in a meek, faltering voice, 'I was kinda like wondering if-'
Jack heard the bell on the door tinkle behind him and turned to see a big no-neck guy with outlandishly long arms limp through. Adrian Minkin, in the flesh. Jack tensed and looked away as he approached.
'Eli wants the book again,' Minkin said as he brushed past Jack and stepped to the counter.
He wore black slacks and a long-sleeve white dress shirt.
The woman made a face. 'That's the third time already,' she said. 'Why doesn't he just call down?'
Minkin leaned on the counter, just a couple of feet away, giving Jack his first close-up look at Minkin's hands in good light. Massive, with wiry black hair crawling all the way out to the third knuckle on the long thick fingers.
'You know how he is, Gert.' Minkin leaned closer and lowered his voice. 'He's very tense, waiting for a call, plus I think he's bored out of his mind.'
'Bad combination,' Gert said, handing him a black ledger. 'Just get it back to me as soon as he's finished.'
'Will do.'
