beyond saying that he looked like a crook. A combination, perhaps, of bravado and furtiveness, an attitude that manifested physically in the set of the shoulders and the shiftiness of the eyes. I wouldn't say that it stood out all over him, but the first time I noticed him at a meeting I had the thought that here was a guy who'd been dirty, a guy who had most likely gone away for it.
He took out a pack of cigarettes and offered me one. I shook my head. He selected one for himself and scratched a match to light it, cupping his hands against the wind. He blew out smoke, then held the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger and looked at it. 'I ought to quit these little fuckers,' he said.
'Sober up and die of cancer, where's the percentage in that?'
'How long are you sober now, Eddie?'
'Coming up on seven months.'
'That's great.'
'I been coming around the program for close to a year, but it took me a while to put down the drink.'
'I didn't catch on right away, either.'
'No? Well, I slipped around for a month or two. And then I thought I could still smoke dope, because what the hell, marijuana wasn't my problem, alcohol was my problem. But I guess what I heard at the meetings finally soaked in, and I put down the grass, too, and now I've been completely clean and dry for close to seven months.'
'That's terrific.'
'I guess.'
'As far as the cigarettes are concerned, they say it's not a good idea to try to do too many things at once.'
'I know it. I figure when I make my year is time enough to quit these things.' He sucked hard on the cigarette and the end glowed red.
'This is where I get off. You sure you don't want to get some coffee?'
'No, but I'll walk over to Ninth with you.'
We walked the long block crosstown and then stood on the corner talking for a few minutes. I don't remember much of what we talked about. On the corner he said, 'When he introduced you he said your home group was Keep It Simple. That's the group meets over at St. Paul the Apostle?'
I nodded. 'The official name is Keep It Simple, but everybody just calls it St. Paul 's.'
'You go there pretty regular?'
'More often than not.'
'Maybe I'll see you there. Uh, you got a phone or something, Matt?'
'Sure. I'm at a hotel, the Northwestern. You just call the desk and they'll put you through to me.'
'Who do I ask for?'
I looked at him for a second, then laughed. I had a small stack of wallet-size photos in my breast pocket, each stamped on the back with my name and phone number. I took one out and handed it to him. He said, ' 'Matthew Scudder.' That's you, huh?' He turned the card over.
'That's not you, though.'
'You recognize her?'
He shook his head. 'Who is she?'
'A girl I'm trying to find.'
'I don't blame you. Find two while you're at it, I'll take one of 'em off your hands. What is it, a job you're working?'
'That's right.'
'Pretty girl. Young, or at least she was when this was taken. What is she, about twenty-one?'
'Twenty-four now. The picture's a year or two old.'
'Twenty-four's pretty young,' he said. He turned the card again.
'Matthew Scudder. It's funny how you'll know the most personal things about somebody but you won't know their name. Their last name, I mean. Mine's Dunphy, but maybe you already knew that.'
'No.'
'I'd give you my phone if I had one. They cut it off for nonpayment a year and a half ago. One of these days I'll have to get it straightened out. It's been good talking to you, Matt. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow night at St. Paul 's.'
'I'll most likely be there.'
'I'll make a point of getting there. You take care now.'
'You too, Eddie.'
He waited for the light, trotted across the avenue. Halfway across he turned and gave me a smile. 'I hope you find that girl,' he said.
I didn't find her that night, or any other girl, either. I walked the rest of the way to Fifty-seventh Street and stopped at the desk. There were no messages but Jacob volunteered that I'd had three calls spaced half an hour
