Bloodlines

When O’Co

O’Co

“Then wait for him over at Big Sarah’s, down the street. He’ll hear your story there.”

O’Co

Big Sarah’s was an all-night diner two doors down from the paper. It wasn’t a fancy place, but O’Co

It was a little cold out, but he was sure he would be thrown out of the place if he stepped inside, so he stood just outside the diner’s entrance. He took off his cap and was combing his hair with his hand, when the roundest woman he had ever seen caught his eye and motioned him inside with a wave.

She greeted him with a warm smile and said, “You must be Mr. O’Co

“Yes, thank you, ma’am,” he said.

“What fine ma

In the men’s room, he took off his thin jacket and washed his hands and arms up to the elbows, carefully avoiding one place on his left arm. Fascinated by a cloth towel that was dry when you pulled on it, even though it seemed to be just one towel looped on a continuous roller, he considered trying to pull on it until the wet side showed up again. But it made such a noise, he stopped after three tries. He used a little more water to finish combing his hair, then- remembering to be on his best ma

When O’Co

“Let’s get some food in him, Sarah.”

“Two specials, comin’ right up,” she said. “You like fried chicken, Mr. O’Co

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered.

They sat in a booth, and it was all O’Co

Big Sarah brought Jack a cup of coffee and O’Co

O’Co

O’Co

Jack looked skeptical.

“She’s working tonight. She does for a lady-cooking and cleaning and sometimes minding the lady’s little girls. They’re just babies, the girls.”

“You’ve been to this house?”

“Oh no, sir.” But he blushed.

“Hmm. But you might have taken an unofficial look at the place, maybe followed her to work one day, just to see if it was a good place for her to work?”

Looking at the table, he said, “Might have.”

Corrigan smiled. “And your father? Does he work nights, too?”

Eyes still averted, O’Co

Corrigan took out a cigarette and lit it. He watched the boy balance his fork on its edge, then put it down flat, then pull his hands away from the table. Jack waited.

“He was a roughneck,” O’Co

“Your father worked in the oilfields?”

O’Co

“And how old is Dermot now?”

“Seventeen.”

“So your father must have been here at the begi

O’Co

“And you help out by working for the paper.”

He shrugged. “A little.”

Big Sarah brought the chicken di

Sensing the problem, Corrigan said, “Sarah’s feelings will be terribly hurt if you don’t finish every bite.”

O’Co

“Apple pie,” O’Co

“You sure?” Jack asked.

O’Co

“Not Irish?”

“Oh, sure, but I’m Irish American. Maureen and me-” He could hear her correct him. “I mean, Maureen and I-were born here. The others are Irish. My parents, too.”

“You have other brothers and sisters?”

“Yes, sir. There are seven of us, but only the three at home. The other four are all old and married. I think they’re even as old as you.”

Corrigan laughed.

O’Co

“Changing your mind?”

“No, sir,” he said, setting the menu back in its holder. “I just like to read.”

“An admirable trait, Mr. O’Co

It was only after the pie had been eaten that Jack said, “Now, I haven’t forgotten that you called this meeting on account of some very important business.” He looked around the empty diner with the air of a conspirator. “Is it safe to discuss it here?”

“Yes, sir. I believe so. It’s about the Mitch Yeager trial. The one you’ve been covering down at the courthouse.”

“Hmm,” said Jack, lighting another cigarette. “Mitch Yeager just might beat that rap. His older brother, Adam, is serving hard time, but Mitch did his bootlegging with some big names in town-not old enough to drink the stuff, and he was ru

“I know. I’ve been reading your stories.”

“You have? At ten years old?”

“No, sir. I’m eight.”

“Eight.” He digested this fact for a moment, then said, “I thought we didn’t hire paperboys younger than ten.”

O’Co

Jack rubbed his chin. “No. Go on.”

“Well, I wanted to see Yeager for myself, so I asked Duffy if I could just take a peek from the balcony.”

“Duffy?”

“He’s one of the guards at the courthouse. He buys his papers from me.”

“I should have known. We’ll skip the matter of truancy for the moment. This Duffy agreed to let you ‘peek’ at a real, live mobster on trial?”

“Yes, sir. Only I couldn’t see Yeager so good-so well. I saw you-at least, I saw the back of your head.”

“How could you possibly know it was the back of my head?”

O’Co