“What?”
I hung up.
My phone rang less than ten seconds later.
“That was rude,” he said.
“Are you apologizing?”
“I meant,” he said, laughing, “that you were rude.”
I owned up to it. “I thought we were going to have a spirit of openness here, that’s all.”
“I can’t tell you everything. You know that.”
“Likewise. But I will tell you that it’s apparently sort of a Miss Haversham scene over at the former Ducane household.”
“What a relief.”
“That Lillian preserved it the way it was on the fatal night?”
“No, that Great Expectations is still being taught in school.”
“I didn’t like it much, to be honest.”
“No surprise. So, is there a cobwebbed wedding cake up in a dark and dusty chamber here in Las Piernas?”
“I’ll let you know when I get back. If Max will let me tour it with him.”
“Perhaps you wouldn’t mind a third person to make it a crowd?”
“Because you’ve been doing me so many favors lately?”
“Are you waiting for me to say ‘please’?”
“No, I wouldn’t want you to die from the strain. Besides, you’ll get a search warrant and probably tape it off and prevent me from seeing it at all. This way, you don’t have to bother a judge or waste your yellow tape, and I get a homicide detective’s comments. So I’ll call you when I hear from Max. And you’ll call me-?”
“If I can. I promise.”
“Lefebvre?”
“Yes?”
“Were they in the car when they were killed?”
There was a long silence, then he said, “Perhaps.”
“Let me put it this way. Did anyone other than the Ducanes die in that car?”
“I couldn’t say.”
I sighed. “Do you think the Ducanes were made to ride in the front seat or the backseat?”
“If I tell you, will you feel the urge to write about it for tomorrow’s paper?”
“I can hold on to it, if you’re willing to let me know the minute you’re about to make it public.”
“All right. We have seen signs that they were in the backseat.”
“Thanks, Phil. I won’t break my promise.”
“If I thought you would, I wouldn’t have told you a thing.”
I wrote quickly. I decided I’d get it all down for now and make it pretty later. I kept my promise to Lefebvre.
When O’Connor showed up, he had changed shoes. “What happened to the ones you were wearing earlier?” I asked.
He looked down, as if surprised to see what he was wearing on his feet. “I got something on them at lunch.”
“That’s too bad.” I also realized that his hair was a little damp, and he smelled like soap. He had taken a shower after lunch? The obvious meaning of this struck me-O’Connor had a girlfriend and had grabbed a quickie while I was at the Cliffside. And he had the nerve to tease me about Max? I tried not to smirk.
“No big deal,” he was saying. “What’s going on?”
I figured if I told him about Eric Yeager threatening us, I’d start to hear something about why this was no job for a woman. So I told him about my lunch with Max-leaving out the dragon-slaying-and about my plans to tour the Ducane mansion.
“I can’t believe Lillian moved that kid under her roof,” he said.
“He’s not so bad.”
He narrowed his gaze at me. “You’re smitten, I suppose?”
“For God’s sake, all I did was have lunch with him-unlike what some people might be doing on their lunch hours. And I paid for my own lunch. So there.”
“You gave him your number at Lillian’s that night, but he didn’t call you until the story broke, did he?”
If there had been another bowl of strawberries at hand, he would have needed another shower. My fists clenched, but I kept my mouth shut. I turned and went back to my desk, back to writing the story about Max.
A minute later, O’Connor leaned over my typewriter. “Wrigley said no to adding your friend to the news staff,” he said.
It smarted, coming as it did on the heels of his previous insult, but I tried to keep that reaction out of my voice as I said, “His loss.”
“I told him it would make it easier for you if there was another woman working news side.”
“Well, no wonder he said no-that would be a lame-ass reason for him to bring her over here. Besides, it isn’t true. I’m fine. But thanks for fucking things up for Lydia.”
“Why do you talk like that? Like a sailor?”
“Why should men have sole ownership of swear words? Why should you be the only ones who get to express your anger?”
“It’s un-”
“Don’t you dare say ‘unladylike.’”
“All right. It’s unbecoming. And unprofessional.”
I stood up and stepped onto the seat of my wooden chair and shouted, “Any man in this room who has never said the word ‘fuck,’ please raise your hand.”
Dead silence, broken only by the sound of the Teletypes. No hands went up. I saw Wrigley move to his office door. He was looking at O’Connor and grinning.
“Thank you,” I said. “O’Connor believes you are all unprofessional. Take it the fuck up with him.”
There was laughter and applause, a lot of hooting and hollering at O’Connor, who left the room as I got down off my chair.
I went back to writing, and the newsroom settled down-as much as it ever did.
Max called. I arranged to meet him at the Ducane place that evening. He didn’t have a problem with Lefebvre joining us. “Bring O’Connor, too, if you’d like.”
“I’ll see,” I evaded. “He’s out at the moment.” I asked if the power was still on at the house, and when he said yes, I arranged to meet him there at eight o’clock. “I’ve got a story to get in, and I won’t be able to stay long-I’ve got to get home to my dad.”
“To your dad?”
“Yes. He’s ill. I’ll explain it all later.” Which in a way was a lie, because I couldn’t fully explain it to myself.
I called Lefebvre, who thanked me and told me he’d try to return the favor. The weird thing was, even though I acted cheerful when I called him, I had the distinct feeling that he had read my true mood, anyway. Over the phone. Scary.
I used Lydia’s notes to figure out who was the most talkative of the heirs of Griffin Baer. I called him and got the names of a few of Baer’s friends. I even learned the name of a bar Baer used to hang out in.
Who else do old men talk to? I wondered.
I asked if he golfed, but the answer was no. I asked if he used to get his hair cut by a barber. This time, the answer was yes-in fact, the barber had come to his funeral. With a little searching through the Yellow Pages while I waited, the grandson was able to come up with the name of the barbershop. I thanked him and ended the call.
It occurred to me that it would help to have some of the photos from O’Connor’s collection with me. I was wondering if I should try to find him, or just leave him alone and ask about it tomorrow, when I got a call from Aunt Mary.
