“Sure,” I said. “Have any beer?”
“Oh, dear, I’m not sure,” she said, “Paul, go look in the refrigerator and see if there’s any beer.”
Paul hadn’t taken his coat off. He went over to the TV set in the bookcase and turned it on, set no channel, and sat down in a black Naugahyde armchair. The set warmed up and a Brady Bunch rerun came on. It was loud.
Patty Giacomin said, “Paul, for God’s sake,” and lowered the volume. While she did that I went into the kitchen on my right and found a can of Schlitz in the refrigerator. There were two more with it, and not much else. I went back into the living room with my beer. Stephen was sitting again, sipping his martini, his legs arranged so as not to ruin the crease in his pants. Patty was standing with her martini in hand.
“Did you have much trouble finding Paul, Mr. Spenser?”
“No,” I said. “It was easy.”
“Did you have trouble with his father?”
“No.”
“Have some cheese and a cracker,” she said. I took some. Boursin on a Triscuit isn’t my favorite, but it had been a long time since breakfast I washed it down with the beer. There was silence except for a now softened Brady Bunch.
Stephen took a small sip of his martini, leaned back slightly, brushed a tiny fleck of something from his left lapel, and said, “Tell me, Mr. Spenser, what do you do?” I heard an overtone of disdain, but I’m probably too sensitive.
“I’m a disc jockey at Regine’s,” I said. “Haven’t I seen you there?”
Patty Giacomin spoke very quickly. “Mr. Spenser,” she said, “could I ask you a really large favor?”
I nodded.
“I, well, I know you’ve already done so much bringing Paul back, but, well, it’s just that it happened much sooner than I thought it would and Stephen and I have a dinner reservation… Could you take Paul out maybe to McDonald’s or someplace? I’ll pay of course.”
I looked at Paul. He was sitting, still with his coat on, staring at The Brady Bunch. Stephen said, “There’s a rather decent Chinese restaurant in town, Szechuan and Mandarin cooking.”
Patty Giacomin had taken her purse off the mantel and was rummaging in it “Yes,” she said. “The Yangtze River. Paul can show you. That’s a good idea. Paul always likes to eat there.” She took a twenty out of her purse and handed it to me. “Here,” she said. “That should be enough. It’s not very expensive.”
I didn’t take the twenty. I said to Paul, “You want to go?” and then I shrugged at the same time he did.
“What are you doing?” he said.
“Practicing my timing,” I said. “Your shrug is so expressive I’m trying to develop one just like it. You want to go get something to eat?”
He started to shrug, stopped, and said, “I don’t care.”
“Well, I do,” I said. “Come on. I’m starving.”
Patty Giacomin still held the twenty out. I shook my head.
“You asked for a favor,” I said. “You didn’t offer to hire me. My treat.”
“Oh, Spenser,” she said, “don’t be silly.”
“Come on, kid,” I said to Paul. “Let’s go. I’ll dazzle you with my knowledge of Oriental lore.”
The kid shifted slightly. “Come on,” I said. “I’m hungry as hell.”
He got up. “What’s the latest you’ll be home,” he said to his mother.
“I’ll be home before twelve,” she said.
Stephen said, “Good meeting you, Spenser. Good seeing you, Paul.”
“Likewise I’m sure,” I said. We went out.
When we were in the car again Paul said, “Why’d you do it?”
“What, agree to take you to dinner?”
“Yes.”
“I felt bad for you,” I said.
“How come?”
“Because you came home after being missing and no one seemed glad.”
“I don’t care.”
“That’s probably wise,” I said. “If you can pull it off.” I turned out of Emerson Road. “Which way?” I said.
“Left,” he said.
“I don’t think I could pull it off,” I said.
“What?”
“Not caring,” I said. “I think if I got sent off to eat with a stranger my first night home I’d be down about it”
