Sara Paretsky - Indemnity Only

“Yum-yum,” the two little girls chorused.

“That sounds great. I’m afraid I have to go back out tonight, so I’ll have to give it a miss.”

Jill nodded. “Lotty told me. Are you doing some more detecting?”

“Well, I hope so.”

Lotty called out from the kitchen and I went in to say hi. Carol was working busily at the stove and turned briefly to flash me a bright smile. Lotty was sitting at the table reading the paper, drinking her everlasting coffee. She looked at me through narrowed eyes. “The detective work wasn’t so agreeable this afternoon, eh?”

I laughed. “No. I learned nothing and had to drink too much beer doing so. This stuff smells great; wish I could cancel this evening out.”

“Then do so.”

I shook my head. “I feel as though I don’t have much time-maybe this second murder. Even though I feel a little rocky-too long a day, too much heat, I can’t stop. I just hope I don’t get sick at dinner-my date is getting fed up with me as it is. Although maybe if I fainted or something it would make him feel stronger, more protective.” I shrugged. “Jill looks a lot better, don’t you think?”

“Oh, yes. The sleep did her good. That was well thought of, to get her out of that house for a while. I talked to her a bit when I came in; she’s very well be, doesn’t whine and complain, but it’s obvious the mother has no emotions to spare for her. As for her sister-” Lotty made an expressive gesture.

“Yeah, I agree. We can’t keep her down here forever, though. Besides, what on earth can she do during the day? I’ve got to be gone again tomorrow, and not on the kind of errand that she can go along with.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about that. Carol and I had a bit of an idea, watching her with Rosa and Tracy-the two nieces. Jill is good with these children-took them on, we didn’t ask her to look after them. Babies are good when you’re depressed-something soft and unquestioning to cuddle. What would you think of her coming over to the clinic and minding children there for a day? As you saw this morning, they’re always tumbling around the place-mothers who are sick can’t leave them alone; or if one baby is sick, who looks after the other when Mama brings him in?”

I thought it over for a minute, but couldn’t see anything wrong with it. “Ask her,” I said. “I’m sure the best thing for her right now would be to have something to do.”

Lotty got up and went to the living room. I followed. We stood for a minute, watching the three girls on the floor. They were terribly busy about something, although it wasn’t clear what. Lotty squatted down next to them, moving easily. I moved into the background. Lotty spoke perfect Spanish, and she talked to the little girls in that language for a minute. Jill watched her respectfully.

Then Lotty turned to Jill, still balancing easily on her haunches. “You’re very good with these little ones. Have you worked with young children before?”

“I was a counselor at a little neighborhood day camp in June,” Jill said, flushing a bit. “ But that’s all. I never baby-sit or anything like that.”

“Well, I had a bit of a plan. See what you think. Vic must be gone all the time, trying to find out why your father and brother were killed. Now while you are visiting down here, you could be of great help to me at the clinic.” She outlined her idea.

Jill’s face lit up. “But you know,” she said seriously, “I don’t have any training. I might not know what to do if they all started to cry or something.”

“Well, if that happens, that will be the test of your knack and patience,” Lotty said. “I will provide you a little assistance by way of a drawerful of lollipops. Bad for the teeth, perhaps, but great for tears.”

I went into the bedroom to change for dinner. Jill hadn’t made the bed. The sheets were crumpled. I straightened them out, then thought I might just lie down for a minute to recover my equilibrium.

The next thing I knew Lotty was shaking me awake. “It’s seven thirty, Vic: don’t you have to be going?”

“Oh, hell!” I swore. My head was thick with sleep. “Thanks, Lotty.” I swung out of bed and hurriedly put on a bright orange sundress. I stuck the Smith & Wesson in my handbag, grabbed a sweater, and ran out the door, calling good-bye to Jill as I went. Poor Ralph, I thought. I really am abusing him, keeping him waiting in restaurants just so that I can pick his brains about Ajax.

It was 7:50 when I turned south on Lake Shore Drive and just 8:00 when I got onto Rush Street, where the restaurant lay. One of my prejudices is against paying to park the car, but tonight I didn’t waste time looking for street parking. I turned the car over to a parking attendant across from Ahab’s. I looked at my watch as I went in the door: 8:08. Damned good, I thought. My head still felt woolly from my hour of sleep, but I was glad I’d gotten it.

Ralph was waiting by the entrance. He kissed me lightly in greeting, then stood back to examine my face. “Definitely improving,” he agreed. “And I see you can walk again.”

The headwaiter came over. Monday was a light night and he took us directly to our table. “Tim will be your waiter,” he said. “Would you like a drink?”

Ralph ordered a gin-and-tonic; I settled for a glass of club soda-Scotch on top of beer didn’t sound too appetizing.

“One of the things about being divorced and moving into the city is all the great restaurants,” Ralph remarked. “I’ve come to this place a couple of times, but there are a lot in my neighborhood.”

“Where do you live?” I asked.

“Over on Elm Street, not too far from here, actually. It’s a furnished place with a housekeeping service.”

“Convenient.” That must cost a fair amount, I thought. I wondered what his income was. “That’s quite a lot of money with your alimony, too.”

“Don’t tell me.” He grinned. “I didn’t know anything about the city when I moved in here, barring the area right around Ajax, and I didn’t want to get into a long lease in a place I’d hate. Eventually I expect I’ll buy a condominium.”

“By the way, did you find out whether McGraw had ever called Masters?”

“Yes, I did you that little favor, Vic. And it’s just what I told you. He’s never had a call from the guy.”

“ You didn’t ask him, did you?”

“No.” Ralph’s cheerful face clouded with resentment. “I kept your wishes in mind and only talked to his secretary. Of course, I don’t have any guarantee that she won’t mention the matter to him. Do you think you could let this drop now? ”

I was feeling a little angry, too, but I kept it under control: I still wanted Ralph to look at the claim draft.

Tim arrived to take our orders. I asked for poached salmon and Ralph took the scampi. We both went to the salad bar while I cast about for a neutral topic to keep us going until after dinner. I didn’t want to produce the draft until we’d eaten.

“I’ve talked so much about my divorce I’ve never asked whether you were ever married,” Ralph remarked.

“Yes, I was.”

“What happened?”

“It was a long time ago. I don’t think either of us was ready for it. He’s a successful attorney now living in Hinsdale with a wife and three young children.”

“Do you still see him?” Ralph wanted to know.

“No, and I really don’t think about him. But his name is in the papers a fair amount. He sent me a card at Christmas, that’s how I know about the children and Hinsdale-one of those gooey things with the children smiling sentimentally in front of a fireplace. I’m not sure whether he sent it to prove his virility or to let me know what I’m missing.”

“Do you miss it?”