Remember Me, Irene

I glanced at Edison and saw his mouth tighten.

Joshua Burrows carefully eased himself from the ladder to the sand. He rested his head against one of the rungs for a moment before turning toward us and begi

“Hello, Dad,” he said in a raspy voice when he reached us, and then nodded toward me. Anticipating his father’s question, he said, “I got rolled a couple of nights ago.”

Edison looked down at his shoes, but his voice was calm, undemanding, when he asked, “Have you been to a doctor?”

“No, no. Not yet.” It seemed like he was worn out, out of breath. “Thinking of going, though. Maybe I’ll go later today.” He turned away as he started coughing again. When he stopped, he winced and shifted over to lean on the car.

“Ms. Kelly tells me you’ve met before?” Edison asked.

I felt like I had suddenly landed in a strange country where people have nothing left to live for but their ma

Joshua nodded. “I’ve had the pleasure.” He seemed out of breath, and took a moment to add, “So what brings you here?”

“Something Lucas said in a note.” Edison started to reach inside his jacket, but paused and said, “Want to sit down? Out of the wind? We could sit in the car.”

“No, thanks,” he said, then looked at his father’s face. “Well, sure. Why not?”

“You two take the front,” I said.

“You take the front. I’ll get in back,” Joshua said.

Keep that distance, I thought.

When we were inside, the rank smell of Burrows the Younger’s clothes and body were nearly enough to make me want to go outside and try to read their lips through the windshield. He leaned back in the seat, glanced over at me, and smirked. “Better crack a window for Ms. Kelly, Dad. Her sense of smell is more acute than yours.”

Edison turned red.

“Forget it,” I said. “I’m fine.”

Joshua laughed and set off another coughing fit, this one doubling him over. “Hot,” he said, breathing in odd, quick and shallow breaths, holding his ribs. “Damn, it’s hot in here.” It was quite cool, but a sheen of perspiration was covering his face. With clumsy fingers, he began unbuttoning his fatigue jacket. Beneath it, his clothes were stained with sweat.

Edison exchanged a glance with me. There was no confidence anywhere on his face.

Joshua leaned his head back again and closed his eyes. “So, you got a note from the Prof?” Back to talking like his street pals.

Edison pulled out the letter Lucas had typed at his home and handed it over the seat to his son.

Joshua read it, stared at it a long time. “Stupid damn thing for him to say. He should have known better.”

“Never mind the part about coming home,” Edison said, reminding me of what Lucas had written. “Just help Ms. Kelly understand what her part means.”

His eyes didn’t look as clear as they had a few moments ago. He closed them and murmured, “Too late. He could never get that through that thick skull of his.” He had another coughing fit, then said wearily, “Too late for him. Too late for Las Piernas, and sure as hell too late for me.”

I’m not noted for having a long fuse, so maybe it was my temper that made me say, “Edison, I can’t take this. Either you drive him to the hospital, or you sit on this side and let me drive him there.”

Edison looked startled for a moment, then locked the car doors and put his key in the ignition. Hearing them lock, I had a moment of panic as my claustrophobia kicked in. I looked for and found a release on my side. I moved my fingers over it, but didn’t press it.

Joshua saw the gesture and smiled. “You sure you want to be locked in here with me and my B.O., Ms. Kelly?”

“No, but I’ll live. You, I’m not so sure about. Start the car, Edison,” I said. “Take him to the hospital.”

“I don’t need a fucking hospital.”

“Joshua Burrows!” Edison said, just like a father. It was about time, though I would have picked a different issue.

“Sorry, Ms. Kelly, Dad. But I still don’t need a hospital.” There was no fight in it.

Edison drove off. We were closer to St. A

Joshua was staring at the letter. “I won’t tell you, you know.”

He was talking so low, I barely heard him.

“I don’t need you to tell me, you spoiled brat.”

That brought his head up. I glanced at Edison. He was smiling in spite of himself.

“Sure you do,” Joshua said. He was wearing down, still having difficulty breathing, and he started to speak in short sentences, halting to breathe between them. “It says right here…‘PS23’…You don’t know what it means.”

“Yeah, well even though you look more like something out of the valley of death than my shepherd, I shall not want. I was supposed to go to Lucas’s Bible, open to Psalm 23, and find the note. I hope he told you what that scrawl on the note meant, because I never would have figured out that it said ‘cherubs’ without help.”

He closed his eyes.

“The bar in the Angelus, right?”

He swallowed hard, nodded.

“Look, Joshua-”

“Forget it. Lucas said…you were a quick study.” He kept his eyes closed, but a slow smile crept up on his face, making him suddenly seem about fifteen years younger. “Ironic hiding place…for a guy in AA.”

I smiled back, even though he didn’t see it. “Yes,” I said. “It fits his sense of humor, doesn’t it?”

He nodded, opened his eyes, watched me.

“Is there more to the message?” I asked.

He started coughing again. Each time, it seemed to take him longer to stop. Edison kept looking in the rearview mirror.

“Secret panel in the bar…Lucas figured it out…said it was from…Prohibition days.” He smiled again. “Couldn’t fool him.”

“Do you know what he hid there?”

“Papers.”

“What kind of papers?”

He shook his head. “Wouldn’t tell me. He said it might not be safe to know…always watching out for me.”

He dozed most of the rest of the way.

“I think he has pneumonia!” Edison whispered to me. “I’m a terrible father.”

“This does some good?”

“No,” he said. “No.”

Joshua woke up when we were just a few minutes away from the hospital. When he stopped coughing long enough to speak, he said, “Don’t take me there. You can’t force me-”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Edison said. “You’re going to the hospital and that’s that! Just because you won’t be able to drink for a few days-”

They started arguing loudly, saying pretty much the same thing over and over, with Joshua not sounding any better as it went on.

“You can keep tabs on a mutual friend,” I said quietly.

They both shut up.

“I’m assuming you know Roberta Benson?”

Joshua nodded. “We all do…runs the shelter.”

“She’s in Las Piernas General.”

“Why? She’s not sick, is she?”

I was expecting cynicism, some remark about her being a shrink-not this unabashed concern. “She’s in a coma. Someone bashed the back of her skull in.”

What little color he had beneath the bruises faded. He leaned his forehead against the window. “Why?”

“Walked in on someone robbing her office-that’s the official theory. But she knew Lucas, and saw him as a client. I think someone was looking for a file on him. Or just trying to make sure her mouth stayed shut.”

“Doesn’t keep files on people. Just shelter business. Her policy.” More coughing.

“She knew Lucas. You knew Lucas, too, and it’s no secret. You want to tell me who hurt you?”