Family Honor - Robert B Parker (30 page)

"And what is required of me?" he said.

"You set up an irrevocable trust fund for your wife and
daughter. With my humble self as trustee. Amount of the fund to come."
 
"So you can embezzle from me?"

"Once the fund was in place, I'd actually be embezzling
from Millicent," I said. "The fund will be large enough to cover the cost
of psychotherapy for Millicent and for her mother."

Patton stood and rested his hands flat on the tabletop
and glowered down at his wife and me.

"Do you ... have ... any idea ... who you're ... dealing
with?"

I nodded.

"I can have you killed, for Christ sake." I shook my head.

"Oh?" Patton said. "You don't think so?"

"Albert Antonioni suggested you call him when we got to
this point."

"Are you kidding?"

I reached behind me, picked up the phone on the kitchen
counter, and dialed.

"Mr. Antonioni please," I said. "Sunny Randall."

I waited. In a moment Allie came on the line. "This is
Allie."

"I have Brock Patton here," I said. "One moment."

Patton's face was gray. But he took the phone. "This is
Brock Patton," he said. He listened for a moment.

"You know this broad, Allie?"

He listened again. For several moments, nodding his head
slightly.

"Right," he said. "Right."

He listened again.
 
"Sure, Allie," he said. "Absolutely."

Then he hung up. His face still looked gray, and his eyes
seemed very tired.

"Okay," he said. "That's the deal. Have your attorney
send me the trust agreement." He looked at Betty Patton. "What about you?"
he said.

"I'm not coming home," she said.

"Fine," he said. "There's a hundred others just like you."

"I know," she said.

He looked at me.

"You're a smart little bitch," he said, "aren't you."

"I'm not so little," I said.

He turned and stalked out of my loft and slammed the door,
which roused Rosie. She sat up among the pillows looking annoyed.

Rosie jumped down from the bed and came briskly the length
of the loft and jumped up in my lap and began to lap my neck. Betty Patton
folded her arms on the tabletop and put her head down.

"Oh God," she said.

"You did good," I said.

"I still have to face Millicent."

"I know."

"I don't know what to say."

"Tell her the truth," I said. "Tell her what you did and
why you did it and how you are going to try and change and why. Don't talk
down to her. Don't give her orders."

"I've forfeited any rights I had to order her around,"
Betty said.

"Brock is right, it is crazy now to try to be a mother."

"Don't aim so high right away," I said. "Maybe you can
learn to be friends in a while. And then maybe you can be an older friend,
one who is helpful, one who can offer guidance, one who can love her, one
who seems to be sort of like a mother."

Betty raised her head.

"Do you have a wonderful mother, Sunny?"

"Not especially," I said.

"Then how do you know all this?"

"Remember," I said, "I'm a smart little bitch."
 

I was busy trying to get the right gray for the jail when
Rosie sat up suddenly and looked at the door. I picked up my gun from the
table next to me. The doorbell rang. Rosie dashed to the door barking and
being fearsome, but her tail was wagging furiously, which meant it was
probably Richie. I checked through the peephole. It wasn't Richie. It was
Brian. I opened the door. Brian came in and closed the door behind him
and leaned forward and kissed me lightly.

"I figured I better do that," he said, "or you might shoot."

I smiled and put the gun on the table. Brian waved at
Millicent. "I might have," I said. "Would you like coffee?"

"Sure."

Brian went and looked at my painting while I measured
out the coffee and water.

"You decided not to paint Chinatown?" he said.

"I can't do the same painting again," I said. "Maybe later."

"Why is that?"

"I have no idea."

"Artistic temperament?"

"I suspect that artistic temperament is bullshit," I said.
"Rembrandt and van Gogh were both artists, but I doubt that they had similar
temperaments."

We sat at my counter. I poured coffee. We both added milk.
I used Equal in mine, Brian put sugar in his. Rosie sat at his feet, ever
hopeful.

"No donuts?" he said.

"I didn't know there was going to be a cop in the house,"
I said. We were quiet for a moment.

"Cathal Kragan turned up in Chelsea Creek this morning,"
Brian said.

"Dead?"

Brian nodded.

"Shot behind his right ear," he said. "At an up angle.
Bullet exited in front above his left eye."

"Good," I said.

"You have any idea how that came to pass?" Brian said.

"Yes."
 
"But you don't want to share?"

"It's not something you should know," I said.

"Not you?" Brian said.

"No."

"You have anything to do with it?"

"I might have gotten the ball rolling," I said.

"Richie Burke?"

"No."

Brian paused for a moment and thought.

"Richie put you in touch," he said. "His family applied
some pressure."

"Maybe," I said. "Are you sorry he's dead?"

"Hell, no," Brian said. "I'm just trying to figure out
where to send the medal. You want me to call Framingham, let them know?"

"No," I said. "I'll call Anderson. He was a pretty good
guy in all of this."

"Me, too," Brian said.

"Yes," I said. "Especially you, too."

Again we were quiet. Brian reached over and poured himself
more coffee.

"So it's over," he said.

"Except for Millicent," I said.

"How about us," Brian said. "Is it over for us?"

I felt myself tense. I knew we'd have to have this conversation,
but I didn't like it any better because I knew it was coming. I nodded
slowly.

"Yes," I said.

Brian's face was tight, and his eyes were flat. He wasn't
liking this conversation either.
 
"Richie?" he said.

"Yes."

Brian scratched Rosie's chin with his toe. I'm sure he
wasn't aware that he did it.

"You together again?"

"No."

"Then ... ?"

"We're not apart enough either," I said.

"Don't you think maybe you ought to come to some terms
with that?" Brian said.

"Yes."

"But you haven't."

"Not yet," I said.

"He was very helpful to you through this bad patch with
Kragan and all," Brian said.

"Yes."

"Don't be fooled by gratitude," Brian said. Inodded.

"I hope I'm not."

Brian drank some coffee. The lines at the corners of his
mouth had deepened.

"Well, people don't love you just because you want them
to," he said.

"I know."

"We did have fun," he said.

"Yes," I said. "We did, and if it stayed fun, it could
have gone on. I can have fun without Richie. But it was becoming more than
fun. And I'm not sure I can have more than fun with anyone but Richie."
 
"Well," Brian said, "if you find that you can, check
with me, see if I'm free."

"You're a very lovely man, Brian. You deserve more than
I have available right now."

"I'd settle for what you have," he said.

"I know," I said. "That's the sad part. But we both know
it wouldn't work out. Once you had it you'd want more, and you'd have a
right to more, and there wouldn't be more, and ... it would be bad."

Brian stood.

"You're right," he said. "I wish you weren't, but I'm
too old to pretend you're not."

I stood with him. And put my arms around his waist. He
kissed me. And we stood in that embrace for a while.

"I hope you and Richie work it out," he said. "Either
way. I hope you settle it."

His voice was hoarse. I nodded. I was too close to crying
to say anything. He stepped away from me and went to the door and opened
it.

"See you around, Sunny Randall," he said.

And the door closed behind him. Rosie sniffed vigorously
at it, her tail wagging fast, as Brian went down the stairs.
 

"Cathal Kragan is dead," I said.

"Brian told you that?"

"Yes."

"Who killed him?"

"Albert Antonioni," I said.

"Good."

We sat quietly some more. The loft was quiet.

Finally Millicent said, "You broke up with him."

"Yes," I said. "Could you hear?"

"Some," Millicent said.

"I hope it didn't embarrass you," I said.

"No," Millicent said. "I'm glad I heard."

"Because?" I said.

"Because it was so nice. You didn't yell at each other.
You were both nice to each other even if it wasn't working out."

"You understand why it wasn't working out?"

"You're still in love with Richie."

I wanted to say no, it's more complicated than that, but
maybe it wasn't. Maybe that's all there was to it. Which was a lot. "I
guess," I said.

"It'll work out," she said.

"Wait a minute," I said, "who's looking out for whom?"

"Whom?"

"Yes," I said. "Whom."

We both smiled a little.

"What about me?" Millicent said.

"What about you?"

"Well, you got rid of Brian," she said. "And that man
Cathal is dead. What are you going to say to my father and mother about
me?"

"Your father has agreed to fund a trust for your support
and education with me as trustee," I said.

"Explain that to me," she said.

"I decide how much money you can have and for what. He
has no say about it."

"He wouldn't do that. Why did he say he would?"

"Because your mother and I can ruin him if he doesn't,"
I said.

"Would you?"

"You bet."

"Would she?"
 
"Yes."

"You want me to go back and live with them?"

"No," I said. "There's no them, anyway. Your mother has
left your father."

"Really?"

I nodded.

"Good," Millicent said. "Can I stay with you?"

"Yes," I said. "But here's how I'd like to see it work.
My friend Julie will get you an appointment with a good psychiatrist, and
you'll see him or her for as long as we all think you should."

"Who's 'we'?"

"Me, you, and the shrink," I said.

"You think there's something wrong with me?"

"You can't have lived the life you've led without needing
to fix some things," I said.

"Like what?"

"That's for you and the shrink to decide," I said.

"Maybe you and Richie ought to go," Millicent said, and
the shadow of a smile passed across her small face.

"Probably," I said.

"What about my mom and dad?"

"Your father's job is to fund the trust. He does that,
we have no need to see him further, unless you want to."