Burke’s homemade biscuits arrived piping hot, smothered with chicken sausage, green peppers, and onion gravy. He went right about his work as I brought him up to speed on all that I had learned.
“So, you think the church cameras got something?” he said, proficiently wiping the corners of his mouth.
“Could be our last hope, but if my theory holds up, then the church might have the exact shot we need.”
“I have to remind you—there is no we in this anymore,” he said. “We are officially stepping back.”
“Since when?”
“Since late last night. We got the call from the Fifth Floor.”
“So, the spider felt the quiver,” I said.
“What the hell does that mean?” he said, finishing off the second biscuit and first cup of coffee in record time.
“Inside joke,” I said.
Three waiters returned with our food, two carrying all his plates, one carrying mine. They asked if we wanted refills, then left us to feast.
“She’s not dead,” Burke said. “They wouldn’t pull us back if they thought she wasn’t alive.”
“Maybe she was never missing.”
“I don’t buy that. They wouldn’t have activated so many systems over a lie that would be figured out sooner or later. Stakes would be too high to take a chance on something that could come back and bite them in the ass.”
“Maybe it was all a ruse to eliminate Chopper.”
Burke cut the french toast into symmetrical squares, a sign of great practice, then shoveled about a pound of them into his mouth all at once. “I’d given that some thought,” he said, sliding the food to one cheek so that he could still talk. “Not far fetched at all. Opportunity is easy. With his money he could hire the National Guard to make his problems go away. Motive is a layup. I’m sure no one in that fortress up there was thrilled their beautiful daughter was smitten with a kid from the forbidden South Side of the city.”
“Smitten?”
“I read Shakespeare in high school too,” he said.
I said, “‘For your brother and my sister no sooner met but they looked, no sooner looked but they loved, no sooner loved but they sighed, no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy.’”
“Who the hell was that?” Burke said.
“Rosalind in As You Like It. Fifth act, second scene.”
“The school year must’ve ended before we got to that one.”
46
MECHANIC AND I WERE sitting in my office in our customary seating arrangement, catching up on the day’s excitement. We both had Amstel Lights in front of us and a brown, grease-stained bag filled with sugary beignets from Akirah’s on South State. The sun fell on the other side of the city, casting long shadows in the park. A lone sailboat slid across the lake, refusing to accept that the season was over. Rush hour traffic snarled its way in both directions, clogging Michigan Avenue. I was content to be above it all.
“The big one won’t be hearing out of his left ear for the better part of a year,” Mechanic said matter-of-factly. “The tall one won’t be able to get up and down stairs until he recovers from surgery.”
“Did you give them fair warning?”
“Twice.”
“Did you explain their disadvantage, them being two and you being one?”
“Twice.”
“Did they tell you why Gerrigan had sent them?”
“Twice. But only after they were both on the ground.”
We lifted our bottles, clinked a toast, then took a long swallow. The cold liquid felt good against the back of my throat.
“What did you tell them after they delivered Gerrigan’s message?” I asked.
“If they came back around here, they’d be going home in an ice truck.”
“Clarity has always been one of your strong suits.”
Darkness started making its way in through the window. A plane inched toward us from across the lake. It would keep traveling west until it reached the city, then travel north along the coastline before veering off to O’Hare.
“Did she spend the whole night?” Mechanic said.
“No, but I wanted her to.”
“And what did she want?”
“I’m hoping the same thing.”
“You’ve gotta get over Julia. It’s been over almost two years. Life goes on. There are plenty of other great girls out there. Carolina is one of them.”
I knew he was right, but I considered his words anyway as I watched the boat sliding out of view.
“I’m a lot better than I was,” I said. “I’ve been told it’s a process. But I don’t feel whole enough to give her what she deserves.”
“You really like her.”
“Since the first day I met her. Not sure I can do it the right way.”
“You won’t know unless you try.”
“There are known knowns and known unknowns,” I said.
“What the hell is that—Confucius?”
“Rumsfeld. US secretary of defense. The thirteenth and twenty-first.”
We sat there silent for the next five minutes, the sugar beignets delightful with the cold beer. It was a perfect sequence, almost as good as doing it in the French Quarter of New Orleans.
My cell phone chirped. Carolina had sent me a text.
That tag you sent me belongs to a Hertz rental car.
I texted back, Dinner at Cut in an hour?
Hour and a half. I need to glam up a little for you. That place is crawling with vultures.
47
CAROLINA AND I SAT at an outdoor table at the Chicago Cut Steakhouse, overlooking the Chicago River and the wall of skyscrapers that magnificently shouldered their way along Wacker
