Mrs. Beale blinked at her aggressively. "What's that, 'Thanks for your help'? You trying to be smart or something?"
"I just said 'Thanks for your help.' You don't have to read anything into it."
Mrs. Beale started jabbing her finger again. "You listen to me: You're a deaf person. Don't you come round to my house trying to tell me how to take care of my kid. Don't you even think about it. If I hear that you've been harassing Dr. Ferdinand, you're going to regret it for the rest of your life. You got that?"
Holly stared at her for a long time, saying nothing. She was trying to look as if she couldn't be intimidated, no matter what, and that she intended to do whatever it took to check up on Casper's condition. But she could see that Mrs. Beale was unimpressed. In fact, she wasn't even interested. Her eyes were unfocused, as if she were thinking about something else altogether.
"Well, there's no doubt I'll see you again," said Holly, and Mrs. Beale immediately closed the door.
Holly was walking back to her car when a woman in ill-fitting high heels came tottering across the street toward her. She wore a yellow checkered dress and scarlet lipstick, and there was blobby mascara on her eyelashes. "How is he?" she flustered.
"Oh, you mean Casper? Not too good, I'm afraid."
"I feelsosorry for Hannah. What a terrible thing, to watch your child wasting away like that."
"Yes, it's tough." Holly unlocked her car and threw her briefcase onto the passenger seat.
"We were all hoping that we could give him one more vacation," the woman told her. "Do you think he's going to be well enough for that?"
"I don't know," said Holly. "I'm going to be talking to his doctor; he should be able to tell me." She paused, and then she said, "Who's 'we'?"
"The Casper Beale Cancer Fund. It's just me and six or seven neighbors, but we've managed to raise thousands. We sent him to Disneyland last October, and we've paid for all kinds of special treatments."
Holly frowned. Now that this woman came to mention it, she vaguely remembered reading something about The Casper Beale Cancer Fund in thePortland Tribune. There might have been an item on TV too.
"The last thing we bought was that car, so that Hannah could take him on outings and to the Tasco Clinic in Seattle. Twenty-one thousand dollars we raised for that."
"That's wonderful. Hannah's real lucky to have neighbors like you."
"Well, we're pretty damn proud of ourselves. That's what my husband likes to say. He was in the Navy."
"Mickey Slim"Comes to Supper
When she parked in the alleyway beside Torrefazione, she was surprised to see Mickey's black Aurora parked there too. She climbed the stairs, and as she put her key in the lock she heard laughter from inside her apartment-Daisy's and Mickey's laughter- and the television playing. She walked in to find Daisy and Mickey on the couch together and Marcella in the kitchen chopping onions.
"Mommy!" said Daisy, jumping up. "Uncle Mickey's been helping me with my math homework! He showed me how to do multiplication! It'seasy!"
Holly gave her a kiss but kept her eyes on Mickey. "It'sUncleMickey now, is it? When did you marry my sister, Mickey, not that I have one?"
"Heeeyy ," said Mickey, sprawling back on the couch. "I thought it sounded more family, you know?"
"I see." She took off her raincoat, hung it up, and propped her briefcase and her laptop on the chair by the kitchen door. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?"
"I can leave it till tomorrow if you like. I don't want to be a nuisance or nothing."
"You promised to stay for supper," said Daisy, jumping back onto the couch next to him. "Uncle Mickeycanstay for supper, can't he, Mommy?"
"What is it you want, exactly?" Holly asked him. "It's been a long day, and I'm due in court first thing tomorrow."
"Hey," said Mickey, standing up. "I totally understand. I'm sorry. It was insensitive of me. I just thought that, since I was passing and there were one or two things I needed to talk to you about "
"I'm sorry."
He peered at her bruise. "All the colors of the rainbow already. That's a sure sign that it's getting better."
She didn't say anything, but Mickey stayed where he was and didn't take his eyes off her. Then he said abruptly, "I'm out of here."
"No!" Daisy insisted. "Youhaveto stay for supper. Youpromised."
Mickey picked up his coat. "Sorry, spud. Your mom needs to rest. She needs to take a bath, close her eyes, and think about puppies and ponies and bright-colored candies. I'll come for supper some other night."
Holly hesitated for a moment. Then she went to the kitchen doorway and said, "Marcella, what are we having tonight?"
"Peperonata con carne di maiale-pork with peppers."
"You cooked enough for three?"
"Three? I cook enough for three hundred."
"In that case, Mickey, you're staying. Come on-it'll do me good."
"You're sure?"
She nodded. Itwoulddo her good. Being deaf, it was always easier to shut herself off from other people, especially when she felt distressed, but maybe she should take a few more risks. Maybe she should even risk Mickey's sympathy.
"Sounds great to me," grinned Mickey. "Look, I took the liberty of pouring myself a glass of your wine. Do you want some?"
"Yes, yes, thanks. Daisy, why don't you go help Marcella?"
"Oh, do Ihaveto?" said Daisy.
"Please, pumpkin. Mommy has to talk to Uncle Mickey about work."
Mickey poured her a large long-stemmed glass of pinot noir. "You heard any more about Daniel Joseph?" he asked her.
"Still critical but stable. He's holding his own."
In the kitchen Marcella was noisily frying red and yellow peppers. Daisy came out with the knives and forks and set the table. Marcella put her head around the door and mimed,Supper in two minutes, Ms. Summers!
"Thanks, Marcella."
Mickey said, "The other thing is-the reason I came around here-we located Merlin Krauss. One of our guys recognized him yesterday afternoon in the Compass Hotel on the waterfront."
"That was good work."
"Well, yes and no. We still don't have any idea who his hit man is, or who he's arranging to hit-if he's actually going to hit anybody-or on whose behalf he's going to hit her. But we do know that he's set up some kind of import-export business on Kearney, under the name of John Betchuvic."
"Coming to the table now!" called Marcella, and Holly waved back to show that she had understood.
Mickey leaned even closer. "So far as we can tell, Krauss isn't involved in drugs or gunrunning or anything serious like that, but he's running a couple of minor scams up and down the coast. Like, he's avoiding duty on imported sportswear by shipping the tops into Portland and the pants into San Diego. Separate tops and pants are no damn good to anybody, so he picks them up at U.S. Customs auctions for practically nothing. Then he matches them up again and sells them at premium prices. Illegal, but not exactly Al Capone."
"So what do you want me to do?"
"How do you know I want you to do anything?"
"Because you wouldn't have bothered to come around here otherwise. You would have sent me a text message."