ugly, the things I’m asked to do. But I’m not being paid to make judgments, understand? And it’s a good thing, too, because sometimes who’s right and who’s wrong isn’t always so cut-and-dried. When I’m hired by a client, I’m only privy to a small part of the story.”
So that’s how he justified dealing with the Mr. Wilsons of the world.
“Many of the people I’m hired to look into don’t want me to find out what I’m trying to find out. Often there’s money at stake for them—sometimes something that’s even more valuable. This job can be dangerous. That’s what I was trying to explain to you last night. If you’re seen, if they know where to find you, some of them will do whatever they can to make sure you don’t do your job. Understand?”
I wasn’t the only one at risk; he was in danger, too. That had never occurred to me before. I may not have known Pop very well, but I certainly wasn’t prepared to lose him. Ever since he’d come home, I’d just assumed he was safe.
But he was more vulnerable than ever. He might’ve had the experience to know what to do when, but I was the only one of us with two good legs.
“So what are you going to do the next time someone hires you to follow his wife?” I asked.
“Do what I did this time, I imagine.”
“But you couldn’t do it this time.” I had to do it for you, I almost said. And I can run. At least I stand a chance at getting away. “What happens if they take the job to Uncle Adam instead? Mrs. Mrozenski isn’t always going to be willing to take the rent late, you know.”
He looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time. Had I said too much? Would he disappear into his office and never come out again? “How do you know all that?”
“I just do.”
He rubbed at his upper thigh, just above the prosthetic. His face took on an ashen hue and his features momentarily pinched. He was late taking his pills.
The pain he felt wasn’t just the chafing and discomfort from the prosthetic. When he first came home, Aunt Miriam had warned me about something called phantom pain. It only happens to amputees, she’d said. The severed nerves go haywire and sometimes the person missing a limb swears they can feel pain in the arm or leg that’s not there anymore. I’d seen it with my own eyes, how Pop would move to scratch the calf that wasn’t, his hand brushing the air beneath his knee the way Roland Young’s hand passed through Cary Grant’s ghostly body in Topper.
But Aunt Miriam was wrong about one thing: phantom pain didn’t just happen to amputees. Anyone who’d experienced a sudden loss could fall victim to it. I felt it every time I entered a room and expected to see Mama, only instead of clusters of severed nerves going haywire, it was my heart that seized in agony.
“Do you want me to get your pills?” I asked Pop.
“No. Not yet.” He continued rubbing. “Not every job is going to be like this one. I’m still a good detective.”
“I’m not saying you’re not.”
He held up his finger to signal that he wasn’t done talking. “I can’t do what I need to do if I’m worrying about your safety. I appreciate that you want to help, but you can do a lot more good staying at home where I know where you are and where Mrs. Mrozenski can keep an eye on you.”
Tears crested at the corners of my eyes. I was supposed to be the dutiful daughter who did her homework, ate her vegetables, and went to bed with a smile on her face. Why did I have to be a girl? Maybe if he’d had a son, he would’ve been more willing to trust me.
I sniffled, more loudly than I’d intended. “Maybe I could—”
His face hardened into a slab of granite. “This isn’t open for discussion, Iris. Hate me if you want, but this is my decision to make, not a fifteen-year-old girl’s. Now go to your room.”
I threw the ten-dollar bill beside his good leg and did as he said.
CHAPTER
5
I DIDN’T LEAVE MY ROOM again that day.
So that’s how he justified dealing with the Mr. Wilsons of the world.
“Many of the people I’m hired to look into don’t want me to find out what I’m trying to find out. Often there’s money at stake for them—sometimes something that’s even more valuable. This job can be dangerous. That’s what I was trying to explain to you last night. If you’re seen, if they know where to find you, some of them will do whatever they can to make sure you don’t do your job. Understand?”
I wasn’t the only one at risk; he was in danger, too. That had never occurred to me before. I may not have known Pop very well, but I certainly wasn’t prepared to lose him. Ever since he’d come home, I’d just assumed he was safe.
But he was more vulnerable than ever. He might’ve had the experience to know what to do when, but I was the only one of us with two good legs.
“So what are you going to do the next time someone hires you to follow his wife?” I asked.
“Do what I did this time, I imagine.”
“But you couldn’t do it this time.” I had to do it for you, I almost said. And I can run. At least I stand a chance at getting away. “What happens if they take the job to Uncle Adam instead? Mrs. Mrozenski isn’t always going to be willing to take the rent late, you know.”
He looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time. Had I said too much? Would he disappear into his office and never come out again? “How do you know all that?”
“I just do.”
He rubbed at his upper thigh, just above the prosthetic. His face took on an ashen hue and his features momentarily pinched. He was late taking his pills.
The pain he felt wasn’t just the chafing and discomfort from the prosthetic. When he first came home, Aunt Miriam had warned me about something called phantom pain. It only happens to amputees, she’d said. The severed nerves go haywire and sometimes the person missing a limb swears they can feel pain in the arm or leg that’s not there anymore. I’d seen it with my own eyes, how Pop would move to scratch the calf that wasn’t, his hand brushing the air beneath his knee the way Roland Young’s hand passed through Cary Grant’s ghostly body in Topper.
But Aunt Miriam was wrong about one thing: phantom pain didn’t just happen to amputees. Anyone who’d experienced a sudden loss could fall victim to it. I felt it every time I entered a room and expected to see Mama, only instead of clusters of severed nerves going haywire, it was my heart that seized in agony.
“Do you want me to get your pills?” I asked Pop.
“No. Not yet.” He continued rubbing. “Not every job is going to be like this one. I’m still a good detective.”
“I’m not saying you’re not.”
He held up his finger to signal that he wasn’t done talking. “I can’t do what I need to do if I’m worrying about your safety. I appreciate that you want to help, but you can do a lot more good staying at home where I know where you are and where Mrs. Mrozenski can keep an eye on you.”
Tears crested at the corners of my eyes. I was supposed to be the dutiful daughter who did her homework, ate her vegetables, and went to bed with a smile on her face. Why did I have to be a girl? Maybe if he’d had a son, he would’ve been more willing to trust me.
I sniffled, more loudly than I’d intended. “Maybe I could—”
His face hardened into a slab of granite. “This isn’t open for discussion, Iris. Hate me if you want, but this is my decision to make, not a fifteen-year-old girl’s. Now go to your room.”
I threw the ten-dollar bill beside his good leg and did as he said.
CHAPTER
5
I DIDN’T LEAVE MY ROOM again that day.
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