Page 62 of A Winter of Discontent for Henry Milch
“Or she’ll throw us out.”
“If she does, take the baby to your place.”
“And she’ll have us arrested us for kidnapping.”
Really, getting a babysitter should not be this hard.
“I’m asking you to, so it’s not kidnapping.”
“Are you Emerald’s guardian?”
“No. But neither is Nana Cole. My mother is Emerald’s guardian.”
We were in a very gray area. I could almost hear Bev thinking that if my grandmother called the police, the baby might get taken away by child protective services. A judge might grant one of us custody, but I certainly didn’t want to go up against a well-informed social worker.
“All right,” Bev said. “We’ll call you if it doesn’t go well.”
I wanted to suggest she not bring Barbara, but they seemed to only travel as a pair. I wasn’t sure if that was because of their lesbianism, their age, or if it was simply unique to them. Whatever it was, I found it very strange. I’d met few men I could tolerate all the way through the sex act (without Oxy, I mean) sothe idea of being with anyone in that way twenty-four-seven was deeply disturbing.
After I hung up, I noticed that my phone was nearly out of a charge. The charger was at home in my bedroom. I really hoped Bev and Barbara didn’t need to talk to me since they might not get through. I might need a better phone if I was going to keep working for Ham. I wonder if he’d let me expense that? Could I expense things? I really needed to ask?—
Someone was knocking at the door, so I went over and answered it. It was Brian Belcher from next door. He had a worried look on his face.
“What’s going on? Why is the sheriff here? Is Patty all right?”
“They’re searching the house. Patty confessed to murder this morning.”
“Wait—what? Patty confessed to killing Bobbie?”
“I just said that.”
“Is she okay? Does she need a lawyer?
“Her nephew is taking her case.”
“Bernie, junior. Okay.”
He still looked very concerned. His forehead was creased and his jaw tight.
“I’d invite you in, but I don’t think they’d like it.”
“It’s all right. I should?—”
As he began to walk away, I stepped out onto the stoop and asked, “Were Patty and your dad close?”
Turning around, he said, “Oh, um, yeah. They were friendly.”
“Bobbie used to get painkillers from your dad, didn’t she?”
“How do you know that?”
“It’s just something I heard.”
“He liked her, that’s all. He thought she was fun. Some people did.”
“Do you think it contributed to his death? Could it have hastened the cancer in some way?”
He went still for a moment, then said, “He died of a heart attack. He had medicine, but he couldn’t get to it in time.”
