“However it comes off the slicer,” she said. “Too much I can trim, not enough’s a drag. Besides, I like mapping my own destiny.”
—
As we walked to Maury’s, Milo smoked a cigar and blew perfect rings up at the darkening sky. Not a word uttered.
We passed a grizzled, legless man holding a hand-lettered cardboardHelp Mesign. Amputation mid-thigh.
Milo stopped, fished a ten out of his wallet. “Here you go, amigo.”
“God bless you, sir. There’s a mansion awaiting you in heaven.”
“Great, I’m ready for an upgrade.”
“A big mansion with a swimming pool.”
“How about a pool table?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Let me ask you a question, compadre. Ever hear of someone named Mary Jane Huralnik?”
The man’s face screwed up. “Mary? Is she a saint?”
“Who knows?” As Milo turned to leave, I added my own ten.
The man said, “Bless everyone! We’ll start a celestial suburb.”
Three steps later, I said, “Good karma.”
“Don’t know your motivation but mine’s not cosmic, it’s simple gratitude.”
“For what?”
He tapped both his knees. “For these.”
CHAPTER
22
Maury’s Deluxe Delicatessen was a generous, glass-fronted room, dill-and-salty aromatic. A clutch of people waited to be seated. I’d never been there but Milo had because we were pulled ahead of the queue and given a corner booth by a jubilant hostess who said, “Great to see you again!”
Cops tip generously; my friend kicks up the average.
—
Familiarity didn’t stop him from studying the menu as if it were an arcane shred of papyrus.
A waiter, white-haired, paunchy, and hunched so severely he resembled an angle bracket with shoes, shuffled over. “The chief of police graces us with his presence, the world is safe.” Heavy lids, phlegmy, bored voice.
“Chief’s a crap job, Mel. Thought you liked me.”
“I love you. Not that way, but we could be brothers.” Mel gave a wheezy laugh. “If Mama had a lo-ong gestation history. Okay, I’ll settle for you’re my large, Gentile nephew. Who’s this?” Wink wink. “Theguy?”
“Aguy,” said Milo. “Dr. Alex Delaware.”
“Isn’ttheguy a doctor?”
“He is. But he’s notthisguy.”
