"It's the gimlet eye," I said. "I get worn down."
"Anyone would," she said. "How is Frank?"
"I guess he's going to make it, but he's still in intensive, still full of hop and drifting in and out. And they still don't know when he'll walk."
"Are you making any progress finding Lisa St. Claire?"
"I've found an old boyfriend,"
I said.
"Cherchez l'homme," Susan said.
"Maybe. He's an Hispanic guy from Proctor named Luis Deleon. He might be the one on her answering machine that might have had an accent and said he'd stop by later. I played the tape for Lisa's friend Typhanie-with a y and a ph-and she couldn't say for sure, but it might be him. He's apparently the guy Lisa was with before Belson."
"And you think she might be with him?"
"I don't know. Awful lot of might-be's. But I don't have anyplace else to look, so I'll look there."
"I hope she's not with someone," Susan said.
"Yeah. But, in a sense, if she is, Belson will know she's not dead, and he'll know what he has to fight."
"The voice of experience."
"Disappearance is terrifying," I said. "Whether me or him is painful, but it's clear."
"And you've not spoken with Frank about this?"
"Mostly he doesn't know what day it is," I said. "But even if he did, what's to talk about?"
"One would assume if you were looking for a man's wife, you would want to talk with him about it if possible. If only to offer him emotional support."
"He won't want to talk about it," I said. "Except as a case."
"Maybe you should help him, when he's able."
"Some people," I said, and stopped and took a significant bite of the second sandwich, "even some very intelligent people, even now and then some very intelligent shrinks, sometimes think that not talking about things is a handicap. For the people who aren't talking about things, however, it is a way to control feelings so you won't be tripping over them while you're trying to do something useful. Containment is not limitation. It is an alternative to being controlled by your feelings."
Susan smiled.
"How artful," she said. "You're talking about men and women, but you don't specify."
"I don't think it's necessarily gender differentiated," I said. "Lot of women are critical of a lot of men on the issue, and a lot of men feel that women don't get it. But I hate to generalize. You, for instance, are very contained."
"And there are moments when you are not."
Pearl came loping back from the house toward my second sandwich. There was an accusatory look to her as she came, unless that was just projection on my part. I got another large bite in before she reached me.
"Like when?" I said around the bite.
"You know," Susan said. "I don't wish to speak of it in front of the baby."
"She has to know sometime," I said.
Pearl rested her chin on my knee and rolled her eyes up to look at me. I gave her the remainder of my sandwich.
"I think she knows everything she needs to know, now," Susan said.
Pearl bolted down the remainder of my lunch and wagged her tail.
"You won't tell the guys, will you?" I said. "That the dog bullies me?"
"No," Susan said. "Or that you let me see your emotions from time to time."
"Whew!"
"Have you located this man Deleon?"
"No. I've talked to the cops and a priest. He's somewhere in Proctor. Monday, I'm going to talk to a guy named Freddie Santiago, who's sort of the mayor of Hispanic Proctor."
"Isn't that most of Proctor?"
"Yeah, nearly all."
"But he isn't the real mayor."
"He may be the real mayor. But the official mayor is a guy named Harrington."
"Is Hawk helping on this?"
"Hawk's in Burma," I said. "Right now, I need someone who speaks Spanish."
"Burma? What can Hawk be doing in Burma?"
"Better not to know," I said. "Gives us deniability."
Chapter 15
When he came into the coffee shop at the Park Plaza, Quirk looked like he always did, thick bodied, neat, clean shaven, fresh haircut, hands like a mason. Today he wore a blue suit and a blue-and-white striped shirt. He slid into a seat across from me and ordered some coffee.
"Deleon is dirty," he said.
"Not a surprise," I said. "How bad is it?"
"Pretty bad," Quirk said. "He's been arrested twice on assault, once on possession with intent once for rape. He walked on both assault charges when the witnesses failed to appear. He walked on the rape charge when the victim recanted. He got a suspended sentence and three for the possession with intent."
"The wheels of justice grind exceeding slow," I said.
"Don't they?" Quirk said. "He is suspected of, but never charged with, several murders associated with the drug trade, and probably some homicides related to some kind of sporadic turf war going on up there between him and Freddie Santiago. Freddie's got them outnumbered, I'm told, and owns most of the city. But Deleon and his outfit are so mean and violent and plain fucking crazy that Freddie has never had the nads to go into San Juan
Hill and dig them out."
I nodded. A waitress came over and poured coffee into Quirk's cup.
"Would you like a menu?" she said.