without at least a few stragglers being flattened.
O’Connor had been sure that he would lose his job. Winston Wrigley II kept him on. When one of the older reporters groused about this, Wrigley said, “O’Connor’s been on our payroll since 1936.”
“As a paperboy!” the reporter said, then blushed as he realized his mistake.
“You never know how high a paperboy might rise in the business,” Wrigley said calmly. Like his father, he seldom raised his voice.
O’Connor sat up with a start, and realized that despite his resolve, he had dozed off in Jack’s hospital room. He glanced at his watch-it was past eleven.
Jack stirred awake again, and this time O’Connor called the nurse, as promised. When she had left, Jack murmured something, and O’Connor came closer to hear him.
“Now that Miss Ass-Full-of-Sunlight has done her duty, tell me the truth.”
“Your speech is slurred, but I’m so used to listening to you when you’re under full sail, I can understand you.”
“Funny. Not that I would mind a drink.”
“None for a while, I’m afraid. The worst blows were to your head.”
“Thank God. What if they had injured something I use every day?”
“If you can crack jokes with a cracked skull, I suppose you’re going to be all right. Eventually, anyway. If I showed you a mirror, you’d scream like a little girl.”
“Given how I feel, I may just start screaming on principle.”
“Sorry, Jack,” O’Connor said, his voice no longer teasing. “It’s inhuman, but they can’t give you anything for the pain for a little while yet. Something to do with the head injuries.”
Jack was silent for a moment, then asked, “What about the eye?”
O’Connor hoped the truth wouldn’t lead to some sort of setback, because he had no practice at trying to lie to Jack. “Don’t know yet. Old Man Wrigley came by earlier, when you were still out cold. He told me he’s going to bring in a specialist for you.”
“Kind of him.”
“Don’t give up hope, Jack. They really don’t know.”
“Might as well tell me the rest.”
“Not sure I should…”
“Damn it, Conn! Have I ever, in the last twenty years-”
“All right, all right. Settle down. For God’s sake, don’t kill yourself just getting pissed off at me. You’ve three broken ribs, four broken fingers, and plenty of cuts and bruises. The cuts and scrapes wouldn’t be so much of a worry if you hadn’t decided to go for a swim in a swamp.”
“A swamp?” He looked puzzled.
“Okay, not exactly. You were found in one of the marshes by an egg farmer, and you were half-drowned and so cold he wasn’t sure you were alive. If you don’t become feverish from that, it will be a miracle.”
“I remember a farm…eucalyptus trees…feeling where my damned keys cut me when somebody kicked me.”
“Do you remember who did this to you?”
But Jack was caught up in other thoughts. “Listen-this sounds strange, but I swear it’s true-someone was burying a car on that farm. In the middle of the night, or sometime after midnight, anyway. Doesn’t that sound strange to you?”
“Yes,” O’Connor answered truthfully.
“But I’d swear I saw it, Conn. I woke up in a eucalyptus grove, a wind-break, probably. A dairy on the other side of the road. And I saw a farmer burying a car.”
“Well, I’ve always been a city boy, so I couldn’t tell you why farmers do what they do in the wee hours of the night or any other time. So let’s talk about before the farm.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“I believe you, Jack. I do.”
Jack fell silent.
“Who did this to you, Jack?”
He frowned, winced at the pull on his stitches, and said, “Big guy at a party. Never saw him before. Thought I was making time with his floozy and coldcocked me. One punch. Wasn’t expecting it.”
“How big a man?”
“Three inches shorter than the Titanic, if you stood them back to back.”
“Hair?”
“Blond. Crewcut. Blue eyes, I think. But that might have been the dame. I’m a little confused about him.” He put a hand to his head. “Someone else joined the fun, but I didn’t get a good look at him. He was behind me most of the time.”
He fell silent again.
O’Connor waited a bit, then tried again. “You were wearing your good suit when you ended up in the marsh. Or what was left of your good suit-”
“Where is it?”
“The ER nurses showed it to me, and told me they’ll bring the remains of it up here once it’s dry. If I had any fear that you could get out of that bed and put it on, I’d have them burn it. So-you were wearing your good suit. Where’d you go last night?”
“Lillian’s place. Katy’s birthday.”
O’Connor couldn’t hide his disbelief. “Katy’s birthday party? Lillian invited you?”
“No. Katy did.”
He was wearing down, but fighting it, O’Connor thought.
“Conn, something was eating at her. Really bothering her.”
“Bothering Katy?”
“Yes…” Jack’s thoughts seemed to drift, then he looked back at O’Connor. “She kept saying she wanted to talk to me, but she obviously didn’t want the family to hear what she had to say. You know she’s never serious about much of anything, but tonight…I mean, last night… she was troubled.”
“If you’re worried about her, I’ll call her tomorrow. Maybe she’ll come and visit you.”
“Go by their place tonight.”
“Tonight? Jack, it’s almost midnight.”
“She’s a night owl.”
“And I suppose Todd Ducane won’t mind my calling on his wife in the dead of night?”
“Guess again.”
“What are you saying?”
“He has a mistress. He’s home maybe three nights a week.”
“First of all, maybe that’s what’s troubling Katy. And second, what if I happen to luck into one of the three nights?”
“Katy doesn’t care. I offered to pound him so flat she could use him as rug.”
“This being when you yourself hadn’t been made into a carpet.”
Jack ignored him. “She told me not to bother. She doesn’t want him. She’s known about this for months. Old news.”
“Okay, to everyone but me, I guess. All the same, maybe Todd will be a dog in the manger and still not take to my showing up on his doorstep at midnight. People have been shot for less.”
“He drives an old heap, it will be parked in the drive.”
“Not the garage?”
“No. He likes to irritate the neighbors. Hopes it will get him a gift from Lillian.”
“I think I understand. Lillian owns the house, right?”
“Right.”
“And his parents won’t buy him a new car, so he figures he’ll embarrass Lillian into coughing up the dough for something worthy of the neighborhood.”
