“Hello?” she answered.
“Hello, Barbara. It’s Irene.”
“Oh, Irene. Do you know where Kenny’s car is?”
“Your father-in-law, my best friend, is dead — no, make that murdered — and the first thing you ask me about is Kenny’s fucking car?!?”
There was silence on the other end of the line. I’d blown it already.
“Barbara, I’m sorry. I’m a mess. A real mess.” Deep breath.
Still no response. I waited.
“No need to be foul-mouthed, Irene. Mama would be so ashamed to hear you talk like that.”
“I’m sorry.” Damn that bitch for trying to invoke our dead mother to stop me from swearing. Frank was asking too much. But I couldn’t think of anyone else besides Kenny who could tell me what might be behind all of this. And Barbara was the only way I could find Kenny.
“Kenny’s car was towed by the police after my window was shot out,” I said. “We don’t know if they shot my window out because of the car or not, but since Kenny hadn’t been truth — since Kenny wasn’t where the police thought he’d be, they thought it’d be better to keep the car out from in front of other people’s houses; the last two houses it was parked in front of didn’t fare too well.”
“So that’s what happened to your window?”
“That’s what happened to my window. And my armchair. And nearly to me and someone who happened to be in my living room.”
“Not Granddad’s armchair?”
“The very one,” I said, clenching my teeth at her priorities. “Barbara, if you know where Kenny is, you’d better call the police and ask for Detective Frank Harriman in Homicide. I’m not kidding around about this.”
Silence.
I decided to try another approach.
“Barbara, Kenny’s life is in danger. And, for that matter, until he talks to the police, so is mine.” I refrained from mentioning how much of our grandparents’ furniture might also be at risk.
“So you think he’s in danger, too?”
“What do you mean, ‘too’?”
She hesitated. Apparently she was figuring out that by asking me about the car, she had as much as admitted that she’d seen him yesterday.
“You really hate him, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t,” I lied, “I just felt protective of you after the divorce. I didn’t like how he treated you, or all the hurtful things he said to you then. I feel protective of you now, Barbara. I don’t want you to get hurt again.”
She mulled this over.
“Kenny wasn’t himself then, Irene. He was having a crisis.”
Right, I thought. Temporary insanity. Unfortunately, Barbara took this silence as meaning she needed to keep selling me on him.
“I know he said some awful things, but he’s taken them all back. He’s begged my forgiveness.”
I’ll bet he has, I thought. Out loud I said, “So you’ve seen him?”
More hesitation. “He was here yesterday. Irene, the poor man is scared out of his wits. He’s upset about his dad, but he’s sure someone’s after him, too.”
“He thinks someone wanted to kill both of them?”
“Yes. Yes, exactly.”
“Did he say
“You don’t believe him?”
“Yes, I believe him. Not a doubt in my mind that’s true.”
This appeased her. “Well, then you can see why I couldn’t refuse to help him in his hour of need.”
His hour of need? Kenny had a lifetime of need.
“But did he tell you why they are trying to kill him?” I pressed.
“No, Irene, he didn’t want to put me in danger. He told me that he had already lost his father and he couldn’t stand to lose me. That’s why he didn’t want to leave the car in front of my house. He said everyone knew that deep down he still loved me, and that this is the first place they’d look for him.”
“But it was okay to park the car next door to
“Kenny said it would be safe there.”
Well, he was right. The car was safe. It was Frank and I who almost got in line right behind O’Connor at the Pearly Gates.
“Irene?”
