“You did this to her! You did this to her! You and those gangsters you work for. Gambling and drinking and debauchery... you did this!”
He sighed. It would be unkind to point out that, in her time, Betty had indulged in far more gambling and drinking and debauchery than either Michael or Patricia.
Then her voice changed. “...Michael, I’m sorry. Forgive me. I’m so sorry that I...”
“Blame me if you like, Betty,” he said without rancor. “I really don’t mind. If it helps you, blame me.”
“What good d would it do? Nothing will bring her back. Was she... right with the Lord, Michael?”
“She loved Jesus very much, Betty,” he lied. “We were talking about it just the night before she died.”
“Thank God. Praise Jesus. What can I do to help, Michael? What can Ralph and I do?”
“I need you to do right by your sister.”
“How?”
“I’m going to give you a phone number and a name.”
“I’ll get something to write with...” Ten seconds later, she said, “Ready.”
He gave her the number and said, “Talk to Harold Shore, he’s the associate director of the OCRS — the government agency we were dealing with.”
“Were dealing with...? You’re not anymore?”
“No. For obvious reasons, I don’t have a high opinion of their ability to protect me and what’s left of my family.”
“Does that... include us?”
“You and Ralph are in no danger. Anna won’t be, either, when I’m out of the picture.”
“What does that mean, ‘out of the picture’?”
“It means people are trying to kill me, and they may well succeed. But in the meantime, you call Director Shore and tell him you want to claim your sister’s body.”
A sudden intake of breath leaped from the receiver. “Oh, Michael... I hadn’t even thought it through that far...”
“I’m sure the government can have Pat’s body sent to your local mortuary. I know they’ll do that much for us.”
“Michael, oh... oh, Patsy...”
“I won’t be able to attend the funeral. Neither will Anna. That would be a high-risk proposition, our being there... but not for anyone else. Pat had a life in DeKalb. Friends. History. I’d like her to be buried next to her parents in the cemetery there.”
“All right, Michael. All right.”
“I’ll send you money for—”
“I’d like you to let Ralph and me handle that, Michael.”
“Well, actually, that’s generous. Kind. Loving, but I need you to buy a plot for me, too. I’ll want to be buried next to my wife — when the time comes.”
“Oh, Michael...” She was crying. “...Forgive me for being so... so darn terrible.”
Yes, “darn” terrible. Betty wasn’t allowed to be “goddamn” terrible, anymore...
“There’s one other thing, Betty... There’s a chance Anna may turn up on your doorstep one of these days.”
“We’d love to have her,” she said, in a painfully forced, upbeat way. “Sheila’s only two years younger than Anna, and they could be like... like sisters.”
Betty was crying again. He heard a male voice, Ralph’s, saying, “What is it, honey? What’s wrong?”
Michael let her deal with her husband, then when she returned, told her, “I’m hoping, if something happens to me, that Anna will go to college there in DeKalb, and have you folks to fall back on. So she’s not... alone in the world. Would that be agreeable?”
“Of course it would, Michael.”
“She’ll have her own money.”
“Well, Ralph and I would be glad—”
“No. She’s a young woman, and she will be self-sufficient. What you don’t know, Betty, is that Anna was married recently.”
“Married! At her age! Michael, that’s—”
“Her young husband was murdered yesterday. He caught a bullet meant for me.”
“Ooooh... oh God...”
Fear in her voice now. Finally. Good.
“Betty, these are deep, dark waters. And treacherous. If she comes to you, treat Anna like a grown-up, because she is one, or anyway will need to be. And she won’t have time for... or, knowing her... patience with any sanctimonious bullshit. You just be a good loving aunt to her. I don’t mean to be unkind, but am I clear on that?”
“You are,” she said, nothing irritated in her voice at all now. “I promise you that, Michael.”
“Thank you, Betty,” he said, and hung up.
In the morning, Anna woke before him. She had already showered and was in bell-bottom jeans and wedge sandals and a dark blue scoop-neck tank top, all that brown hair cascading down her back. She was brushing her teeth when he approached, still in his commando black.
“What’s,” she said, and spit out toothpaste into the sink, “with the getup?”
“Oh. I slipped out for a little while last night, after you went to sleep.”
“Ninja convention in town?”
“There’s a powerful man I had to see.”
“What... one of your gangster friends?”
“Sort of. I needed to make sure where we stood with him.”
She rinsed, spat. “Where do we stand, Daddy?”
“He’s with us. I think.”
“Oh. Well, gee, that’s comforting. But other people still want us dead?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head, smirked humorlessly, said, “Bathroom’s yours,” and brushed past him.
He shat, showered, shaved, changed into a fresh Banlon, rust-color, and tan trousers. He was brushing his teeth when Anna popped up in the bathroom doorway, as he had done with her.
“What’s the plan?”
“The plan,” he said, and spat into the sink, “is to keep us both alive.”
“Okay. But with Mom dead, and Gary, being alive doesn’t quite have the... appeal like it used to, huh?” Her eyes were filled with tears that belied her flip manner. She’d had twelve hours of sleep to replenish her tear ducts.
“Ask yourself if Mom would want us to give up,” he said. “Ask yourself if Gary would want anything to happen to you.”
She nodded, numbly, and shuffled off.
When he emerged from the bathroom, she was sitting on the edge of her bed, facing his, slumped, legs apart, hands laced together hanging between her knees. Staring at the floor. Her handbag — an off — white crocheted jute shoulder affair — was next to her.
From the nightstand, he removed the .38 and handed it toward her.
“I want you to carry that in your purse.”
She didn’t argue. She took the gun and unsnapped the bag and slid the big weapon in among cosmetics and Kleenex.
“Guess all those gun club years are finally comin’ in handy, huh, Pop?”
He sat across from her. “Couple details. Couple realities... not any fun, I’m afraid.”
She looked up with an eyebrow raised. “Oh — is the fun over already?”
“Gary’s parents will’ve been called back from their Caribbean trip by now.”
She hung her head again, shaking it. “Those poor people... poor, poor people...”
“I’m assuming they knew nothing about the marriage?”
“Not any more than you and Mom did.”
“...Is there anything in the house — marriage license, photos, anything that might come in the mail, that would tell them about you two...?”
“Getting hitched?” she said archly. “No. I don’t think so.” She frowned at him, confused. “Why?”
“I’m thinking... there’s no reason for them to know about it. I’m thinking it would just complicate things. All they know right now, from talking to people who were there, is that you sneaked back to go to the prom with Gary. And that he was an innocent bystander in some kind of gangland violence that broke out in the parking lot of a casino with that kind of history.”