Jan Burke - Remember Me, Irene

Joshua saw the gesture and smiled. “You sure you want to be locked in here with me and my B.O., Ms. Kelly?”

“No, but I’ll live. You, I’m not so sure about. Start the car, Edison,” I said. “Take him to the hospital.”

“I don’t need a fucking hospital.”

“Joshua Burrows!” Edison said, just like a father. It was about time, though I would have picked a different issue.

“Sorry, Ms. Kelly, Dad. But I still don’t need a hospital.” There was no fight in it.

Edison drove off. We were closer to St. Anne’s, but he was heading toward Las Piernas General. It only took me a minute to figure out why. Las Piernas General was closer to his house.

Joshua was staring at the letter. “I won’t tell you, you know.”

He was talking so low, I barely heard him.

“I don’t need you to tell me, you spoiled brat.”

That brought his head up. I glanced at Edison. He was smiling in spite of himself.

“Sure you do,” Joshua said. He was wearing down, still having difficulty breathing, and he started to speak in short sentences, halting to breathe between them. “It says right here…‘PS23’…You don’t know what it means.”

“Yeah, well even though you look more like something out of the valley of death than my shepherd, I shall not want. I was supposed to go to Lucas’s Bible, open to Psalm 23, and find the note. I hope he told you what that scrawl on the note meant, because I never would have figured out that it said ‘cherubs’ without help.”

He closed his eyes.

“The bar in the Angelus, right?”

He swallowed hard, nodded.

“Look, Joshua-”

“Forget it. Lucas said…you were a quick study.” He kept his eyes closed, but a slow smile crept up on his face, making him suddenly seem about fifteen years younger. “Ironic hiding place…for a guy in AA.”

I smiled back, even though he didn’t see it. “Yes,” I said. “It fits his sense of humor, doesn’t it?”

He nodded, opened his eyes, watched me.

“Is there more to the message?” I asked.

He started coughing again. Each time, it seemed to take him longer to stop. Edison kept looking in the rearview mirror.

“Secret panel in the bar…Lucas figured it out…said it was from…Prohibition days.” He smiled again. “Couldn’t fool him.”

“Do you know what he hid there?”

“Papers.”

“What kind of papers?”

He shook his head. “Wouldn’t tell me. He said it might not be safe to know…always watching out for me.”

He dozed most of the rest of the way.

“I think he has pneumonia!” Edison whispered to me. “I’m a terrible father.”

“This does some good?”

“No,” he said. “No.”

Joshua woke up when we were just a few minutes away from the hospital. When he stopped coughing long enough to speak, he said, “Don’t take me there. You can’t force me-”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Edison said. “You’re going to the hospital and that’s that! Just because you won’t be able to drink for a few days-”

They started arguing loudly, saying pretty much the same thing over and over, with Joshua not sounding any better as it went on.

“You can keep tabs on a mutual friend,” I said quietly.

They both shut up.

“I’m assuming you know Roberta Benson?”

Joshua nodded. “We all do…runs the shelter.”

“She’s in Las Piernas General.”

“Why? She’s not sick, is she?”

I was expecting cynicism, some remark about her being a shrink-not this unabashed concern. “She’s in a coma. Someone bashed the back of her skull in.”

What little color he had beneath the bruises faded. He leaned his forehead against the window. “Why?”

“Walked in on someone robbing her office-that’s the official theory. But she knew Lucas, and saw him as a client. I think someone was looking for a file on him. Or just trying to make sure her mouth stayed shut.”

“Doesn’t keep files on people. Just shelter business. Her policy.” More coughing.

“She knew Lucas. You knew Lucas, too, and it’s no secret. You want to tell me who hurt you?”

“Doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“Tell me anyway.”

He brooded for a moment, then said, “You don’t tell the cops?”

“No. That’s your business.”

He looked toward his dad and shook his head. “He’d tell.” But while Edison vehemently denied the accusation, Joshua held my attention, and very clearly held up two fingers, then pointed to the tip of one of his dirty running shoes.

Two Toes. My jaw dropped. Joshua was watching me. Watching me with bruises all over his face, maybe a few broken ribs, and God knows what else. Attacked in his sleep by the man who considered himself my guardian angel. “I thought Blue was going to protect you-”

“Blue wasn’t around,” Joshua said.

“I don’t know who attacked Roberta,” I said. “I don’t think it was-the one who attacked you, but I don’t know. I’m just trying to say that you and your dad need to watch each other’s backs-that’s too hard to do if you’re on the streets, Joshua. You’ll be safer here.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Maybe they can even help you get rid of that cough,” I said.

“Why should you care?”

“I owe somebody.”

“Lucas?”

“Yes.”

“You knew what the note meant…why’d you come looking for me?”

“Two reasons. I didn’t really know all of it, did I? And I’ve already told you the other reason.”

“You owe Lucas.”

“Right. So do you.”

“I’m so tired,” he said, but was completely docile after that.

NINAHOWELL,my pal in the Zoning Department, was delighted to be of help when I called her. Ray Aiken was acting city manager now, and her own boss was learning that administrative support personnel-which included secretaries-would be treated differently as long as Ray had anything to say about it. Nina’s work life wasn’t completely transformed but it had improved.

“How can I get in touch with Charlotte Brady?” I asked her.

“Allan Moffett’s former secretary?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Aiken asked her to come back. She’s one of his assistants now. Want me to transfer you to her?”

I said I did, and spent the next five minutes listening to Charlotte rave about her new boss. I was feeling a little impatient; I needed to get a story in on Moffett’s secret meetings, but I was also anxious to get back to following up on other matters.

“Ray Aiken always did all the real work around here anyway,” Charlotte said in what I hoped was conclusion.

“Workhorses don’t always make the best administrators,” I said. “I’m glad Ray is doing so well.”

“He’s great. Now what can I do for you?”

“I wondered if you might verify a few items for me.” I read off some of the information I had gathered from Ben’s calendar.

“So what you want to know is, did Allan Moffett call these meetings in defiance of the Brown Act?”

Can’t put anything over on Charlotte Brady. “That’s what I want to independently verify,” I said. “I already know it.”

“Until I talk to Mr. Aiken about this-hmmm. You know nothing will come of it, right? I mean, even under the terms of the Brown Act, there won’t be much you can do?”

“Of course not. In the first place, the law only concerns legislative bodies and their committees, not the city manager himself. But those meetings were held illegally, and Allan was the one who put them together. The public has a right to know that the man they entrusted over all those years abused that trust.”

“He’d never make a comeback, would he?”