I’m calling,” I said. “I was wondering if you’ve talked to Ethan in the past twenty-four hours or so.”
“Me?” She blew out a breath. “I don’t hear much from my son anymore. Since he went off to college and began living with Walter.” She paused. “Wait a minute. Why are you asking me about Ethan? Where is he? Is he all right?”
“Oh, I’m sure he’s fine,” I said. “It’s just that he wasn’tthere when Walt had his accident, and I’m trying to get ahold of him to tell him what happened.”
“But he lives there,” she said.
“He apparently stayed somewhere else last night. I thought maybe he was with you.”
“Now you’re upsetting me, Mr. Coyne. Where is my boy?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “If you should talk with him before I do, please ask him to call me.”
“I will,” she said. “You do the same.”
“Of course.”
“The police might come around looking for Ethan,” I said.
“The police,” she said. “Why?”
“Nobody saw it happen, that’s all,” I said. “It was what they call an unattended death. They’re obliged to investigate.”
“And they think Ethan . . . ?”
“It’s just their routine,” I said.
“Routine,” she said. “Of course.” She paused for a moment, then said, “Mr. Coyne?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think something has happened to Ethan?”
“No,” I said. “I think he’s a college kid who was at a party or something and ended up spending the night with friends, the way college kids do. I just wanted to tell him what happened to his father before he read about it in the papers.”
“Sure,” she said. “I’m sure you’re right.” She cleared her throat. “I am sad about Walter. He wasn’t much of a husband. Or a father, for that matter. But he was a good man.”
“I agree with you on all counts,” I said.
After I hung up with Ellen Bramhall, I reached down and gave Henry a pat. He opened his eyes and looked at me fora moment, and when he decided I didn’t have something for him to eat, he sighed and went back to sleep.
Julie returned around one-thirty. She brought a large plastic bag into my office and put it on my desk.
“What’s this?” I said.
“It’s not for you.”
I peeked inside. The bag held a small green sack of lams dry dog food, four cans of Alpo, two aluminum bowls, and a leash.
I took out the leash. It was one of those retractable gizmos with a square handle. “Thank you,” I said to Julie. “We’ll have a lot of fun with this.”
“Maybe he’s hungry,” she said.
Henry was sitting there watching us. His ears perked up at the word “hungry.”
“I bet he is,” I said.
So I spread an old newspaper on the floor in my office and put half a can of Alpo and a handful of Iams and a splash of water into a bowl. I filled the other bowl with water.
Henry sat there looking at the bowls. “For you,” I told him.
He cocked his head.
“Okay,” I said.
He leaped up and went at it.
Julie had also stopped at the deli for tuna sandwiches with lettuce, tomatoes, and onions on wheat bread, bags of chips, dill pickles, and cans of Coke. Regular for me, Diet for her.
We ate at my conference table while Henry, having burped a couple of times, lay down beside me. His chin rested on his paws and his eyes followed my hands as I moved food into my mouth.
I tried to convince Julie that the house in the suburbs sheshared with Megan and Edward, her husband, would be a perfect place for an orphaned Brittany spaniel.
She still wasn’t buying it.
“So what am I supposed to do with him?” I said.
“You rescued him,” she said. “That makes his life your responsibility. Old Chinese saying. Confucius, I think.”
“Confucius say,” I said, “woman who fly upside-down in airplane—”
“Don’t start,” she said quickly. “I hate those stupid adolescent Confucius-say jokes of yours.”
“Sorry,” I said. “About the dog . . .”
Julie stood, gathered up the bags and cans and
“Me?” She blew out a breath. “I don’t hear much from my son anymore. Since he went off to college and began living with Walter.” She paused. “Wait a minute. Why are you asking me about Ethan? Where is he? Is he all right?”
“Oh, I’m sure he’s fine,” I said. “It’s just that he wasn’tthere when Walt had his accident, and I’m trying to get ahold of him to tell him what happened.”
“But he lives there,” she said.
“He apparently stayed somewhere else last night. I thought maybe he was with you.”
“Now you’re upsetting me, Mr. Coyne. Where is my boy?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “If you should talk with him before I do, please ask him to call me.”
“I will,” she said. “You do the same.”
“Of course.”
“The police might come around looking for Ethan,” I said.
“The police,” she said. “Why?”
“Nobody saw it happen, that’s all,” I said. “It was what they call an unattended death. They’re obliged to investigate.”
“And they think Ethan . . . ?”
“It’s just their routine,” I said.
“Routine,” she said. “Of course.” She paused for a moment, then said, “Mr. Coyne?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think something has happened to Ethan?”
“No,” I said. “I think he’s a college kid who was at a party or something and ended up spending the night with friends, the way college kids do. I just wanted to tell him what happened to his father before he read about it in the papers.”
“Sure,” she said. “I’m sure you’re right.” She cleared her throat. “I am sad about Walter. He wasn’t much of a husband. Or a father, for that matter. But he was a good man.”
“I agree with you on all counts,” I said.
After I hung up with Ellen Bramhall, I reached down and gave Henry a pat. He opened his eyes and looked at me fora moment, and when he decided I didn’t have something for him to eat, he sighed and went back to sleep.
Julie returned around one-thirty. She brought a large plastic bag into my office and put it on my desk.
“What’s this?” I said.
“It’s not for you.”
I peeked inside. The bag held a small green sack of lams dry dog food, four cans of Alpo, two aluminum bowls, and a leash.
I took out the leash. It was one of those retractable gizmos with a square handle. “Thank you,” I said to Julie. “We’ll have a lot of fun with this.”
“Maybe he’s hungry,” she said.
Henry was sitting there watching us. His ears perked up at the word “hungry.”
“I bet he is,” I said.
So I spread an old newspaper on the floor in my office and put half a can of Alpo and a handful of Iams and a splash of water into a bowl. I filled the other bowl with water.
Henry sat there looking at the bowls. “For you,” I told him.
He cocked his head.
“Okay,” I said.
He leaped up and went at it.
Julie had also stopped at the deli for tuna sandwiches with lettuce, tomatoes, and onions on wheat bread, bags of chips, dill pickles, and cans of Coke. Regular for me, Diet for her.
We ate at my conference table while Henry, having burped a couple of times, lay down beside me. His chin rested on his paws and his eyes followed my hands as I moved food into my mouth.
I tried to convince Julie that the house in the suburbs sheshared with Megan and Edward, her husband, would be a perfect place for an orphaned Brittany spaniel.
She still wasn’t buying it.
“So what am I supposed to do with him?” I said.
“You rescued him,” she said. “That makes his life your responsibility. Old Chinese saying. Confucius, I think.”
“Confucius say,” I said, “woman who fly upside-down in airplane—”
“Don’t start,” she said quickly. “I hate those stupid adolescent Confucius-say jokes of yours.”
“Sorry,” I said. “About the dog . . .”
Julie stood, gathered up the bags and cans and
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