“Irene, “ he said, “do you know what the two saddest words in the English language are?”
“Boo and hoo?” I had guessed.
“No, wise-ass. The two saddest words in the English language are ‘if only.’”
I used to hate it when he’d get into going on and on with all of his quotes and proverbs and old saws, but somehow they always came back to me in times of trouble. And so I left off with the ifs.
By the time Pete got there, I was much calmer; still a little shaky, but calmer.
He sighed. “Hell. I was hoping these jokers would need a little while to regroup. You know, give you a day off.” He turned to one of the uniformed men and asked him to go over and double check on the guard for Frank’s room, and to ask the hospital about tightening security around Kenny as well.
“Have you heard back from the sheriff in Gila Bend yet?” I asked.
“Yeah. They said they had been trying to dig up something for O’Connor since early last week. They think they might have something.”
“I’m thinking of going there.”
“By yourself?”
“My traveling companions aren’t faring too well these days.”
“Don’t start thinking like that, Irene. It’ll make you crazy.”
“That’s what I was just telling myself.”
“Let me run this by Bredloe. Maybe I can work it out so that I can go along. I don’t like the idea of you going somewhere connected with Mr. O’Connor on your own.”
“What time is it?” I asked.
“About three o’clock.”
“Criminy. They’re going to think I quit again. I’ve got to get back to the paper.”
“Let one of these guys make sure you get to work okay,” he said, motioning to one of the patrolmen.
The officer walked over and introduced himself as Mike Sorenson. It seemed silly to get in a car for a two-block ride, but I didn’t feel like walking over near the sidewalk where Miss Ralston’s body was still lying.
“You’re Frank Harriman’s friend, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “You know him?”
“Oh, sure. Great guy, Frank. I saw him earlier — he didn’t look so hot, but they said he’ll be one hundred percent before too long. I don’t know, seeing him there just made me boil — -really got to me. We all want to nail these bastards. Frank’s a good cop. And he says you’re okay. No offense, but I don’t usually get along so hot with reporters. But if Frank says you’re okay, then you’re okay.”
“Thanks. I wondered if — if people might blame me for what happened to him.”
“Naw, are you crazy? We know who’s who in this mess. Hell, lady, you’re damned lucky to be alive, and you know it.”
“You’re right.”
We pulled up at the newspaper and he got out and walked me in. I could hear the presses rolling. Snap out of it, I told myself, you’re lucky to be alive. I thanked Officer Sorenson, waved hello to Geoff, then made my way upstairs.
I talked to Lydia — she had been worried. Someone was already covering the hit-and-run.
I went over my progress on the funding story with John Walters and then I asked if we could go into his office. He looked up at me with a raised eyebrow, then motioned me inside the little glass cubicle he called home and shut the door on the nosiest people in the world.
I told him that I wanted to go to Gila Bend, and that I’d probably be taking a cop along with me, both for protection and for entree to any business I might need to do with the Gila Bend cops. I told him that there really wasn’t any way for me to do this story on the sly from the cops, and if that bothered him, he ought to can me or get somebody else to cover it.
He started laughing. Not the reaction I expected.
“You are so damned ethical, Irene. I love it. You haven’t been here forty-eight hours and you’ve got the news editor in his office, giving him ultimatums so you can work with a clean conscience. Brother.”
I waited.
“God save me from girls who went to Catholic school. Guilt just eats them alive.”
I still waited.
“Irene, you know what the dangers are of getting too chummy with the people you may have to write some story about later. You’re a professional. I’m not going to give you advance absolution for any sins you are about to commit against the paper, I’ll just trust you to use your best judgment. Just between the two of us, I’m happy as hell that you’re not going out there alone.”
“I know, John, I know. Don’t think I’m not frightened. You should have seen me fall apart out there today. I even puked on the street.”
“What the hell do you expect? You see someone you were talking to five minutes earlier get their head cracked open and die. Are you supposed to just stand there and say, ‘Gee, that reminds me, I didn’t have lunch today’?”
