“Nope.”
“Military service?” I said.
“Nope.”
“Visible means of support.”
“Last Hope,” Epstein said.
“Got a job title?”
“Nope. But he deposits a two-thousand-dollar paycheck from them every week.”
“Where’s he live?”
“Cambridge,” Epstein said. “Apartment on Hilliard Street.”
“Close to Alderson,” I said.
“Yep. About a block.”
“You got a tail on him?”
“No,” Epstein said. “He looks like small fish to me. We’re sticking with Alderson.”
We were quiet. I finished my latkes. Epstein finished his eggs and ate a piece of toast.
“No bagel?” I said.
“I try to avoid ethnic cliches,” Epstein said.
“Like eggs and onions with a nice piece of sable,” I said.
“So, sometimes I fail,” Epstein said. “Whadda you got?”
“Sheila and Lyndon,” I said.
Epstein nodded.
“Tell me about them,” he said.
I did. Epstein took some notes on the organizations and places they had mentioned in connection with Alderson. The waitress warmed up our coffee as needed. My normal ration wastwo cups in the morning. I was somewhere around five this morning. Of course, they were small cups. I’d probably be able to sleep fi ne by the time the week was out.
“A hippie legend,” Epstein said when I finished my recitation. “Perry told us he was forty-eight.”
“Kent State was in 1970,” I said.
“Which would have made him thirteen when it happened,”
Epstein said.
“Precocious,” I said.
Epstein said, “We’ll run it down. See how much of the legend is true. Can you give me a couple of the pictures you took?”
I nodded.
“When the truth conflicts with the legend,” I said, “print the legend.”
“William Randolph Hearst?” Epstein said.
“
“Close,” Epstein said.
The waitress brought the check. Epstein picked it up.
“I got this one,” he said. “You’re a business expense.”
“Wow, you do avoid ethnic cliches,” I said.
“Jews are generous,” Epstein said.
We still had coffee to drink, so we each drank some. Epstein put down his cup.
“This,” he said, “has been a model of law enforcement giveand-take. Me, a representative of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. You, a simple private peep. And we share what we know to the betterment of our common interest.”
“Ain’t it grand,” I said.
“There was another shooting in Cambridge yesterday,”
Epstein said. “Right in Harvard Square.”
“The town too tough to die,” I said.
“You wouldn’t know anything about that, I suppose.”
“I don’t,” I said.
“Some similarities to the guy got shot up in Kendall Square,”
Epstein said.
