“That’s why Mama wears gloves, honey. So those little thorns won’t prick me.” Lucas picked a small trowel from a set of coloured plastic tools and began copying his mother’s movements.
“Mrs. Silver?”
She twisted around, still on her haunches, a startled look on her face.
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to surprise you.”
She stood up and placed herself squarely between me and Lucas. She had sea-green eyes and smooth tanned skin and a light spray of freckles across her nose. “What is it?” she asked.
“Is your husband home?” Not the single smartest question, perhaps, to ask a woman standing alone with her child.
“Who’s asking?”
“My name is Jonah Geller. I’m a private investigator.” I held out my photo ID for her to look at. She glanced back at Lucas, then took off one glove and came close enough to reach for my card. After examining it, she handed it back and asked again what I wanted.
“Just something I need to discuss with Jay.”
“Does he know you?”
“We met the other day.”
“I’m afraid he’s not feeling well.”
“I know. They told me at the store.”
“And you came anyway? What’s so important that you’d disturb a sick man at home?”
“That’s between me and your husband.”
“I don’t think so. Tell me what it’s about or get off my property.”
Her steady gaze told me two things: I wasn’t going to get past her; and she might be the right person to talk to. Someone who might make Jay come clean better than I could, and without having to punch him in the mouth.
I plunged in. “In the course of a recent investigation, I came across information that suggested there was a threat against your family.”
Any hint of pleasantness left her features. Her brows lowered and her mouth tightened into a thin line. “What kind of threat? To harm us? Is this some kind of… of blackmail?
“I’m trying to save your lives.”
“From what?”
“It involves your husband,” I said, which drew me an even darker look. “Anything more, I’ll just have to repeat to him, so why don’t the three of us sit down for a minute-or stand out here if we have to-and I’ll tell you what I know.”
She backed away from me, holding the trowel in front of her. Clumps of black soil dropped from it onto her deck shoes. “Lucas,” she said. “Go ring the bell and ask Daddy to come out. And tell him to bring his phone-can you remember that?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Call Daddy.”
“And?”
“Ask him to bring his phone.”
“Good boy,” she said. “Then you can watch a show if you want.”
His little face lit up with delight. “Already?”
“Honey, you’ve been such a good helper, you can watch an episode of Thomas. ”
“Yay!” he cried and skipped up the walk to the door.
“Let me see your licence again,” Laura Silver said, holding out her bare hand; the other still gripped the trowel. I handed her my ID and she looked at it intently, checking my face against the photo. When she gave it back, she said, “I’ve memorized your details, Mr. Geller, and I’m warning you: if this is some kind of sick attempt on your part to generate business, I will have your professional association and the police all over you.”
“Laura,” I said, “it’s nothing like that.”
She was startled by my use of her first name-which was why I had used it. “Well, what is it?”
I said the one thing I thought might get her past the idea that I was the one posing the threat. “Tikkun olam.”
“What?”
“Oh. I thought you’d know-”
“I know what it means. But what does repairing the world have to do with my family?”
Jay Silver chose that moment to make his entrance at the front door, a cellphone in one hand and a golf club in the other. He started fast down the walkway.
“Hon? What’s going on?” he called. “Lucas said I should come out with my phone. Who is this guy? Is he bothering you?”
“I’m not sure,” Laura said.
“Get away from my wife, you.” He sounded sterner than he had on the loading dock of his store, when Frank had slapped him for talking back. I moved away from Laura and held my hands up in a surrender position, trying to appear non-threatening.
Silver was wearing a loose sweatshirt and baggy khakis and hadn’t shaved. He might well have been ill. His eyes were red and puffy and his skin had a sallow cast to it. He shaded his eyes with his hands and looked me over.
“Wait a second. I know you,” he said. “The loading dock. You knew my name.”
“Lot of good it did me.”
“I was afraid-I thought-”
“You thought Claudio got rid of me.”
“He said he knew you, Jay,” Laura said. “That you met at the store.”
The simple fact that it was true seemed to throw Silver off.
“What is going on, Jay? Who’s Claudio?”
“Please,” I said. “Let’s do this inside.”
“Do what?” Silver demanded.
She walked over to him and spoke quietly, her hands clenched into fists. He leaned his head down so she didn’t have to strain upward, an old habit between spouses with whispered secrets to share. Then his head snapped up at something she said and he glared at me hotly. I centred my weight and let my limbs go loose in case he took a run at me. He handed the phone to Laura and hefted the golf club in his hand. An iron, at least, not a wood; if he connected with my head he wouldn’t be able to drive it more than thirty, forty yards tops.
“What’s this bullshit about a threat to my family?”
“It’s not bullshit and you know it.”
“Get off my property,” he said.
“Who told you to stay home today?” I asked.
“Nobody,” he said. “I wasn’t feeling well.”
“Was it Frank?”
Laura’s head was swivelling back and forth between us as if she were watching a tennis match. “Frank who?”
“Was it Steven Stone?”
He gripped the club more tightly, trying to maintain a fierce glare, but I could see it ebbing little by little.
“Put the club down, Jay. Let’s talk while it can do you some good.”
“You think I’m afraid of you?”
“No reason to be,” I said. “I’m here to help.”
“I don’t need your help. Now get in your car and drive away before I cave your damn head in.” He drew the club back and took a few steps toward me. He was way out of shape. Probably had never been in any shape to begin with. His weight was too far forward and he had the club too far behind him for a short swing. He should have been thinking baseball, not golf.
“Claudio couldn’t handle me, Jay,” I said. “You really think you can?”
