So I'd started giving the money away to the people who were coming out on the streets and asking for it.
I didn't seem to be comfortable keeping it for myself, and I hadn't yet thought of a better thing to do with it.
I'm sure some of the people spent my handouts on drink and drugs, and why not? You spend your money on what you need the most. At first I found myself trying to screen the beggars, but I didn't do that for long. On the one hand it seemed presumptuous of me, and at the same time it felt too much like work, a form of instant detection. When I gave the money to churches I hadn't bothered to find out what they were doing with it, or whether or not I approved. I'd been willing then for my largesse to purchase Cadillacs for monsignors. Why shouldn't I be as willing now to underwrite Porsches for crack dealers?
While I was in a giving mood, I walked over to Midtown North and handed fifty dollars to Detective Joseph Durkin.
I'd called ahead, so he was in the squadroom waiting for me. It had been a year or more since I'd seen him but he looked the same. He'd put on a couple of pounds, no more than he could carry. The booze was starting to show up in his face, but that's no reason to quit. Who ever stopped drinking because of a
few broken blood vessels, a little bloom in the cheeks?
He said, 'I wondered if that Honda dealer'd get hold of you. He had a German name but I don't remember it.'
'Hoeldtke. And it's Subarus, not Hondas.'
'That's a real important distinction, Matt. How're you doing, anyway?'
'Not bad.'
'You look good. Clean living, right?'
'That's my secret.'
'Early hours? Plenty of fiber in your diet?'
'Sometimes I go to the park and gnaw the bark right off a tree.'
'Me too. I just can't help myself.' He reached up a hand and smoothed his hair back. It was dark brown, close to black, and it hadn't needed smoothing; it lay flat against his scalp the way he'd combed it.
'It's good to see you, you know that?'
'Good to see you, Joe.'
We shook hands. I had palmed a ten and two twenties, and they moved from my hand to his during the handshake. His hand disappeared from view and came up empty. He said, 'I gather you did yourself a little good with him.'
'I don't know,' I said. 'I took some money from him and I'll knock on some doors. I don't know what good it's going to do.'
'You put his mind at rest, that's all. At least he's doing all he can, you know? And you won't soak him.'
'No.'
'I took a picture from him and had them run it at the morgue. They had a couple of unidentified white females since June, but she doesn't match up to any of 'em.'
'I figured you'd done that.'
'Yeah, well, that's all I did. It's not police business.'
'I know.'
'Which is why I referred him to you.'
'I know, and I appreciate it.'
'My pleasure. You got any sense of it yet?'
'It's a little early. One thing, she moved out. Packed everything and took off.'
'Well, that's good,' he said. 'Makes it a little more likely she's alive.'
'I know, but there are things that don't make sense. You said you checked the morgue. What about hospitals?'
'You thinking coma?'
'It could be.'
'When'd they hear from her last, sometime in June? That's a long time to be in a coma.'
'Sometimes they're out for years.'
'Yeah, that's true.'
'And she paid her rent the last time on the sixth of July. So what's that, two months and a few days.'
'Still a long time.'
'Not for the person in the coma. It's like the wink of an eye.'
He looked at me. He had pale gray eyes that don't show you much, but they showed a little grudging amusement now. ' 'The wink of an eye,' ' he said. 'First she checks out of her rooming house, then she checks into a hospital.'
