sidewalk.
“Can you ba-leeve the soize of that stupid thing?” she asked me, looking back at the Grand Prix.
I had noticed that before, but the sheer inertial force of the ten-ton door was brought home to me as I slammed it into the Range Rover a dozen times to make a big enough indentation to allow me to slide onto the driver’s seat entirely unimpeded. I don’t know why Detroit thought they needed such heavy-gauge sheet metal in those days, but it did come in handy sometimes.
I reckoned all it would take was a little number two steel wool to rub the black paint off the edge of the door to be good as new.
I didn’t bother checking in with Frank when I got back on the job. I knew what I had to do, and he didn’t care about anything but me getting done in time for the painters.
I took another week to finish the interior and exterior trim. Then all that was left was some custom woodwork on a pair of built-in cabinets and a fancy mantelpiece designed by the architect and therefore impossible to buy from a manufacturer. I had a month to build it, and Frank was more than willing to let me do the whole thing in the shop in my basement. A joyful thing for a guy who never took vacations, and who liked to stay near home to be available for intermittent police interrogations.
FIVE
I T WAS WELL AFTER NORMAL working hours. I was in my shop about to draw out the mantelpiece on a big piece of birch ply when Jackie Swaitkowski pounded on the basement hatch. The booming sound shot Eddie out of his bed in the corner. He glowered at the hatch with a blended look of annoyance and alarm.
“Oh, you’re here,” said Jackie when I let her in.
When Jackie trotted down the hatch stairwell the ambience of the shop took a sharp turn toward the chaotic. The way she moved around left contrails, billowing clouds of Jackie.
“Sorry. What do you got to drink? Not vodka. I can’t stand vodka. Tastes like rubbing alcohol. You gotta have something else. Wine is fine. Red?”
She squatted down to scratch Eddie’s long nose. He’d already forgiven the intrusion. A task light from the workbench along the wall reflected off her huge mane ofstrawberry-blonde hair and cast a hard light across her face, which looked great. Like a movie star’s.
“Geez, Jackie, you look great,” I said, involuntarily.
She looked up from Eddie, partly defensive, partly pleased.
“Best face money can buy,” she said.
Jackie had been through a lot of reconstructive surgery since losing half her face in an explosion. I was there when the whole thing happened and didn’t think you could put it back together again. I hadn’t seen her since the last surgery. I was wrong.
“I told Hodges you’d come out looking better than ever.” She stood up from petting Eddie and pointed a finger at me.
“Don’t push it.”
“You’ll have to come upstairs for that wine,” I told her. “The shop’s off limits to booze.”
I escorted her to the stairwell.
“That’s a first for you.”
“Hard to maintain a respectable drinking habit without fingers or thumbs.”
When we got upstairs I helped her out of her bright yellow winter jacket. Underneath was a red and black plaid flannel shirt and baggy jeans that crumpled over the tops of furry off-white snow boots. Appropriate gear for the wild and wooded hills above Bridgehampton where she lived.
I dug an expensive pinot noir out of the liquor cabinet.
“Amanda probably wanted you to save this for a special occasion,” she said, rummaging for a corkscrew in the junk drawer. “Though tonight would qualify.”
“The only special occasion with Amanda would be seeing her again. Though special for whom, I don’t know.”
Jackie looked at me with something akin to neutrality.
“Hodges told me you were on the outs. Sorry.”
“More to the point, what’s so special about tonight?”
“Let’s sit,” she said, waving me toward the screened-in porch. “I know just the place.”
I followed her with my
“Can you ba-leeve the soize of that stupid thing?” she asked me, looking back at the Grand Prix.
I had noticed that before, but the sheer inertial force of the ten-ton door was brought home to me as I slammed it into the Range Rover a dozen times to make a big enough indentation to allow me to slide onto the driver’s seat entirely unimpeded. I don’t know why Detroit thought they needed such heavy-gauge sheet metal in those days, but it did come in handy sometimes.
I reckoned all it would take was a little number two steel wool to rub the black paint off the edge of the door to be good as new.
I didn’t bother checking in with Frank when I got back on the job. I knew what I had to do, and he didn’t care about anything but me getting done in time for the painters.
I took another week to finish the interior and exterior trim. Then all that was left was some custom woodwork on a pair of built-in cabinets and a fancy mantelpiece designed by the architect and therefore impossible to buy from a manufacturer. I had a month to build it, and Frank was more than willing to let me do the whole thing in the shop in my basement. A joyful thing for a guy who never took vacations, and who liked to stay near home to be available for intermittent police interrogations.
FIVE
I T WAS WELL AFTER NORMAL working hours. I was in my shop about to draw out the mantelpiece on a big piece of birch ply when Jackie Swaitkowski pounded on the basement hatch. The booming sound shot Eddie out of his bed in the corner. He glowered at the hatch with a blended look of annoyance and alarm.
“Oh, you’re here,” said Jackie when I let her in.
When Jackie trotted down the hatch stairwell the ambience of the shop took a sharp turn toward the chaotic. The way she moved around left contrails, billowing clouds of Jackie.
“Sorry. What do you got to drink? Not vodka. I can’t stand vodka. Tastes like rubbing alcohol. You gotta have something else. Wine is fine. Red?”
She squatted down to scratch Eddie’s long nose. He’d already forgiven the intrusion. A task light from the workbench along the wall reflected off her huge mane ofstrawberry-blonde hair and cast a hard light across her face, which looked great. Like a movie star’s.
“Geez, Jackie, you look great,” I said, involuntarily.
She looked up from Eddie, partly defensive, partly pleased.
“Best face money can buy,” she said.
Jackie had been through a lot of reconstructive surgery since losing half her face in an explosion. I was there when the whole thing happened and didn’t think you could put it back together again. I hadn’t seen her since the last surgery. I was wrong.
“I told Hodges you’d come out looking better than ever.” She stood up from petting Eddie and pointed a finger at me.
“Don’t push it.”
“You’ll have to come upstairs for that wine,” I told her. “The shop’s off limits to booze.”
I escorted her to the stairwell.
“That’s a first for you.”
“Hard to maintain a respectable drinking habit without fingers or thumbs.”
When we got upstairs I helped her out of her bright yellow winter jacket. Underneath was a red and black plaid flannel shirt and baggy jeans that crumpled over the tops of furry off-white snow boots. Appropriate gear for the wild and wooded hills above Bridgehampton where she lived.
I dug an expensive pinot noir out of the liquor cabinet.
“Amanda probably wanted you to save this for a special occasion,” she said, rummaging for a corkscrew in the junk drawer. “Though tonight would qualify.”
“The only special occasion with Amanda would be seeing her again. Though special for whom, I don’t know.”
Jackie looked at me with something akin to neutrality.
“Hodges told me you were on the outs. Sorry.”
“More to the point, what’s so special about tonight?”
“Let’s sit,” she said, waving me toward the screened-in porch. “I know just the place.”
I followed her with my
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