Bernardo blinked at him. “This Josh, he is my cousin?”
“Yeah, I guess he is. He’s a little older than you, though. He’s Molly’s age.”
Bernardo’s eyes, already expressive, grew absolutely infinite with unshed tears. “He is Matteo’s son?”
“Yessir. He was sort of a secret, for a lot of reasons. But his parents are so worried about him, they looked up your father to ask him to help.”
“My Uncle Matteo, he was very kind to me and Esme,” Bernardo whispered. “Why did nobody tell us about this? We get thrown on a plane and brought to that house. There were so many people there, and suddenly they said, ‘Hey, you’re going to a game,’ and I don’t understand the rules and—”
“Hey, hey.” Michael squeezed the boy’s shoulder awkwardly. “Hey. That was rough on you, I’m sure. I don’t know why your father didn’t tell you, but, you know, maybe he had his reasons. Maybe he was a little afraid of the procedure, or maybe he didn’t want you to worry. Or maybe he was real busy, having to change his plans so suddenly. I don’t know—you’ll have to ask him. I’m just the car guy. My job was to take you and Esme out with Molly and show you a good time so your whole vacation didn’t suck, and that was double the fun for me, you know? I get to spend some time with some good kids, and I get to help my friends so Josh gets better. So you just ask me the rules as we go, all right? This could be a real fun couple of days for you guys, and I know that’s what your father wants. So you tell Molly and me what sounds like fun, and if we can’t do it today, we can make plans to do it in the next three. How’s that?”
“Was Molly lying?” Bernardo asked. “Is there a beach?”
Michael grinned. “There is indeed. But she was dead on about it not being warm enough to swim.”
Bernardo shrugged. “We can see, right?”
“Absolutely.”
At that moment, Molly and Esme returned, and Michael had his hands full stashing the bags of merchandise under their seats. When he was done, it was time for the national anthem, and then the game began.
And he and Molly found themselves serving as the world’s foremost authorities on baseball and the rules of engagement.
But Bernardo’s confusion stuck with Michael, and he remembered how clear, how candid, Carl had been the night before. Sometimes, someone needed the slow and steady guy, the explainer, the person to put into words the things that other people think you should understand.
Michael understood then that his attraction to Carl had more to it than just a deep-seated need to be safe. It had that respect, that admiration for the guy who took the time to explain, to look at reasons, to fill out the paperwork and take the steps to do things correctly.
Accustomed Ways
THE SERPENTUS office suite was located about three blocks from the National Archives Museum that held the Declaration of Independence. Carl had to remind himself of that every time he went—somewhere in this cursed city was a place where people had put their good faith and good intentions in writing and had fucked up their job anyway.
It helped him not hate his bosses as the soulless sellouts they undoubtedly were.
“Mr. Cox, it’s so good to see you!” Foster Aldrich said genially, catching Carl in the reception area for investigative services as Carl put a complete paper file into Aldrich’s inbox, which hung from his door. Carl had already emailed the file to Aldrich’s secretary as he’d endured the commercial flight from Chicago to DC that morning, but Aldrich did like his dead-tree-memorials to cases long buried.
“Hello, Foster,” Carl said, refusing to call a man who was younger than he was by five years by his last name. “Got all your paperwork in under the wire.” He had too. The deadline was the next day. Like he’d told Michael, he’d held on to it to give himself more time to do things for the family.
“Yes, yes. Are you ready for your next assignment?”
“Not for two weeks,” Carl said without hesitation. “I need time to work on a matter for an independent client first.”
Foster Aldrich—prematurely stout, prematurely humorless, and almost constantly red in the face over one indignation or another—started to flush. “Are you allowed to have independent interests?” he asked, blowing out his cheeks.
“I am,” Carl said. “It’s in my contract. It’s how I’ve brought in a couple of very pricey clients for you, so it seems to work for the board.” Besides Felix and Lucius, he’d worked enough independent cases for people who really did want their valuables back and were not merely satisfied with the insurance payout, to have claimed some autonomy in the matter. In fact, since his trip to Wales—and his memorable meetup with Danny in rehab—he’d become something of an odd fish in his company, and while once upon a time he may have yearned for conventionality and respectability, now he sort of enjoyed being on the outside of this particular box.
“You may want to rethink that,” Aldrich said, trying to sound threatening.
“Why?”
Foster opened and closed his mouth. “Because the shareholders might not always agree to it!” he said after an uncomfortable silence.
“Well, when they tell me, I’ll deal with it,” Carl said. “But I warn you, I’ve got a couple of whales that will go somewhere else if things change too drastically. Besides, it seems a shame to eliminate a practice which has only done this money pit some good.”
Oop! There, it happened again—Foster’s ears turned purple.
“That’s borderline disrespectful!”
Carl took a breath and gave him a bland smile. “To the client, to pay our prices? Yes. Was there anything else I can do for you, Foster? I have a lunch meeting with Ginger Carson in fifteen minutes. It’s at the station, and that’s a bit of a trek.” He was only partially lying. Ginger Carson, who was actually a member of the board and not the vice president of whatever it was Foster had just been put in charge of, really was meeting him for lunch, but she wouldn’t be caught dead eating at Union Station. For one thing, she liked Carl. They were roughly the same age, and while she never did anything as crass as flirt with him, he’d been aware of an undercurrent between them—a possibility they’d both turned their backs on—on more than one occasion.
Carl had become increasingly discriminating about his lovers in the last nine years, and he enjoyed Ginger too much as a friend. Besides, she was arrow straight, with no room for equivalency or leaning, and he’d begun to realize he couldn’t trust those people who served the higher god of law and order without looking to the lowly god of compassion first.
Ginger was actually waiting for him at Union Gold, which was less than a block away from the Serpentus building. But if Foster knew how close it was, he might ask to tag along, something Carl wanted to avoid at all costs. He wanted to pick her brain.
“Oh,” Foster said, obviously disappointed that Ginger would choose Carl’s company over his own. “If you could wait up for me, I’ll call a cab―”
But Carl was already striding toward the door. “No time. I’m going to be late as it is!”