phone was right across the street. He paused for a moment, gathering
energy and the nerve he would need for what he was about to do.
“Hello?” The voice was full of sleep “Kate?”
Jack counted the seconds until her mind cleared and identified the
voice.
“Jesus Christ, Jack, do you know what time it is?”
“Can I come over?”
“No, you cannot come over. I thought we had settled all of this.”
He paused, steeled himself. “It’s not about that.” He paused again.
“It’s about your father.”
The extended silence was difficult to interpret.
“What about him?” The tone was not as cold as he would have thought.
“He’s in trouble.”
Now the familiar tone returned. “So? Why the bell does that still
surprise you?”
“I mean he’s in serious trouble. He just proceeded to scare the living
shit out of me without really telling me anything.”
“Jack, it’s late and whatever my father is involved in–2′ “Kate, he was
scared, I mean really scared. So scared he threw UP- Y@
Again there was a long pause. Jack tracked her mental processes as she
thought about the man they both knew so well. Luther Whitney scared?
That didn’t make sense. His line of work necessarily demanded someone
with steel nerves. Not a violent person, his entire adult life had been
spent right on the. edge of danger.
She was terse. “Where are you?”
“Right across the street.”
Jack looked up as he saw a slender figure move to a window of the
building and look out. He waved.
The door opened to Jack’s knock and he saw her retreating into the
kitchen where he heard a pot clattering, water being poured and the gas
on the stove being lit. He looked around the room, and then stood just
inside the front door feeling a little foolish.
A minute later she walked back in. She had on a thick bathrobe that
ended at her ankles. She was barefoot. Jack found himself staring at her
feet. She followed his gaze and then looked at him. He jolted back.
“How’s the ankle? Looks fine.” He smiled.
She frowned and said tersely, “It’s late, Jack. What about him?”
He moved into the tiny living room and sat down. She sat across from
him.
“He called me up a couple hours ago. We grabbed some food at that little
dive next to Eastern Market and then started walking. He told me he
needed a favor. That he was in trouble. Serious trouble with some people
who could do some permanent damage to him. Real permanent.”
The tea kettle started whistling. She jumped up. He watched her go, the
sight of her perfectly shaped derriere outlined against the bathrobe
bringing back a flood of memories he wished would just leave him the
hell alone. She came back with two cups of tea.
“What was the favor?” She sipped her tea. Jack left his where it was.
“He said he needed a lawyer. He might need a lawyer. Although things
might turn out so he wouldn’t. He wanted me to be that lawyer.”
She put her tea down. “Is that it?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Maybe for an honest, respectable person, but not for him.”
“My God, Kate, the man was scared. I’ve never seen him scared before,
have you?”
“I’ve seen all I need to see of him. He chose his lifestyle and now
apparently it’s catching up to him.”
“He’s your father for chrissakes.”
“Jack, I don’t want to have this conversation.” She started to get up
“What if something happens to him? Then what?”
She looked at him coldly. “Then it happens. That’s not my problem.”
Jack got up and started to leave. Then he turned back, his face red with
anger. “I’ll tell you how the funeral service goes. On second thought,
what the hell would you care? I’ll just make sure you get a copy of
the death certificate for your scrapbook. ” He didn’t know she could
move that quickly, but he would feel the slap for about a week, like
someone had poured acid across his cheek, a truer description than he
realized at the moment.
“How dare you?” Her eyes blazed at him as he slowly rubbed his face.