"That would be about one eighth of one ball. Why would Lenihan be carrying their phone numbers around? Could they be tricks?"
"That's doubtful. They're all straight, so far as I know. Maybe it's something else personal. It's odd."
"What about Lenihan's lover, what's-his-name? Have I met him?"
"Warren Slonski, sometimes known as the irresistible Warren Slonski. He wasn't at Herb's with Jack, so you might not have met him. Maybe they were on the outs last summer. They've had their ups and downs, I know.
Slonski's very straight, nonsexually speaking. He's a chemical engineer of some kind at Schenectady GE. You'd remember him if you'd met him."
"Why would I?"
"Because, as I said, he's irresistible. Or so it is told."
"I wonder if he's been notified of Jack's death. The cops are often sloppy about that sort of thing."
He poured more water over the coffee, making slow circles around the inside of the filter, washing it down so as not to waste any. "I suppose you're thinking of driving out to break the news and offering whatever consolation seems appropriate."
"That's not what I was thinking. Not exactly."
"Right. These are new times. No more of that."
"Absolutely. Out where? You said drive out. "
"Colonic They live in some development out on Shaker Road, I think."
"Jack's last address was on Swan Street. It's on his driver's license."
"Maybe they moved. Or split up."
"What did Jack do for a living?"
He served the coffee and proceeded to dump half a cup of skim milk in his.
"The last I knew he was working at an all-night quiche parlor on Lark Street and going to business college in the daytime-computers probably. If the abacus ever returns, twenty thousand Albany twenty-five-year-olds are going to be back dropping buns on the belt at Burger King."
"Lenihan was a few years beyond twenty-five. You said he dealt drugs. How recently and in how big a way?"
"Big enough. Two or three years ago he was hauled in on a coke bust that involved mid-level wholesalers. Three other guys went to Sing Sing, but Jack was acquitted for lack of evidence. He escaped by the skin of his nasal passage. Jack was really a very smart and decent person, and I think the drug stuff was probably some anti-Lenihan-family acting out. But I didn't know him well enough to know exactly what went on in his head. I suppose you could say that after a certain age you don't call it acting out anymore."
I drank my coffee and tried not to look at Timmy's, which resembled the water in a creek below a paper mill. "He must have been dealing again," I said. "He must have diddled a supplier, who had him killed. All the earmarks are there. Those people are savages. Awful."
Timmy screwed up his face. "I don't know. Jack seemed pretty straight that last time I saw him. But you never know when people are going to revert."
"P eople do it."
"Why your car, do you think? Coincidence?"
"Sure. I suppose so, yeah."
"When was the body put there? Out at Faxon's?"
"No, on the street, it looks like-last night, before the car was towed. Or maybe the road crews were involved. Though that's unlikely, because Bowman is sure to bang their heads around, and big-dope entrepreneurs aren't that dumb. Hell, I should have moved my car when you told me to."
"You got distracted and forgot."
"Then fell asleep. In fact, I wouldn't mind sleeping right through until April.
The bears have the right idea. They're the only mammals who know how to live in this dreary, desolate place." He grimaced. "Sorry-I backslid. There I go again. Sorry. Really."
"Maybe if you'd make an effort to enjoy winter, you'd do better. There are alternatives to cabin fever. For example, let's both learn to ski. How about that? It'd be fun and it'd be healthful."
"That would require my moving about out of doors. My idea of a winter sport is knocking around on a sunfish off Virgin Gorda."
He sighed very deeply. "I'm going in and sit by the picture of the fire and read. How much more snow are we suppose to get? Have you heard?"
The "picture of the fire" was a framed photograph of the San Francisco fire given to us by a friend as a housewarming gift a year earlier when Timmy and I picked up our tiny Federal-style town house on Crow Street for something in the neighborhood of two-point-six billion dollars and discovered that the "working fireplace" described by the realtor didn't.
I said, "We're supposed to get another five inches or so. That will bring the season's total to four hundred feet, five inches."
"You're exaggerating slightly."
"But not much."
We cleaned up the kitchen, went in and saw the snow sloshing down the living room windowpane, put on some Thelonius Monk, and spent the evening by the picture of the fire. At eleven-fifteen the bright-eyed man who soft-shoed in front of the Channel 12 weather map said it now looked as if the earlier snow forecasts had been too conservative and "a lot more of the white stuff" was on the way. Timmy shrugged.
"I hear bells, ringing and ringing."
"I'd better get it, it's after one. Shift, this way." I groped for the phone.
"It's never been this way for me before. The electric mattress pad moved."
"Don't give me quotes from Wings of the Dove at a time like this." I found it.
"This is Strachey."
"You got something that doesn't belong to you."
"Come again?"
"Who is it?"
"Shhh."
"I think you can tell that we are serious people, Strachey."
"No, I can't tell that at all. Rude presumption is not the same as seriousness. May I ask who is calling, please?"
"We'll be in touch tomorrow about the delivery. We just want you to know that we know you got it. Keep yourself available and do not leave Albany."
"Mr. Strachey isn't here. This is the chimney sweep. If you'd like to leave your name and number-" Click.
With two fingers I shoved the receiver toward its cradle and it rattled down into it.
"I sense that you are suddenly preoccupied. Who was that?"
"He didn't say. It was a man with a handkerchief over his mouth, or a large tablecloth. He said I have something that doesn't belong to me."
"What is it?"
"He didn't mention that either."
"Public libraries are starting to crack down. Do you have a book overdue?"
"He said I could see that he was a serious person. People'-he said
'serious people.' And he'd be in touch about the delivery."
"Floral?"
"No, I think I'm the deliverer. Of this thing I have that doesn't belong to me.
He had a hard voice-nasty, even through the hankie."
"Hell, then give it to him."
"I haven't got it. I think I haven't." I extricated myself and reached for an imaginary cigarette.
"Maybe this has something to do with Jack Lenihan. Are you going to call Bowman?"
I struck an imaginary match and took a deep drag. "In the morning. Ned’s unconscious at this hour."
He straightened out the covers, looking solemn. "This thing you're supposed to have-maybe it's what Jack Lenihan was killed for."
"That passed through my mind."
"Are you still interested in Guadeloupe? We could drive down to Kennedy and be there in time for an early morning flight, be on the beach by noon."
"No, now I'm curious."
"Nnn."
"Look, let me spend a few days clearing up this obvious misunderstanding, and then it'll be the weekend and we can get the hell off this ice floe for a couple of weeks-fly away and really thaw out. Were you serious about that?"
A little silence. Then: "I guess not. I can't now. Not while the legislature's in session. You know that."
I stared over at him for a few seconds, and then I physically assaulted him.