The Con Man's Daughter

Chapter 15

Wednesday

8:00 P.M.

"Why did the man attackle you?" Grace asked, gently daubing Eddie's eye with a damp washcloth. "Because you were looking for Mommy?"

He wasn't sure where Grace had found her mother's first-aid kit. He watched her carefully, not entirely sure what chemical she was doctoring him with. Kate could reel off the names of drugs Eddie had never heard of.

"He attackled me because he's crazy," Eddie said. "The police took him away to jail so he can't hurt anyone else."

They were sitting around the kitchen table, finishing the "angel foot cake." Kevin had brought franks and beans, Grace's favorite, from the restaurant. The house was quieter than it had been. The Yonkers Police Department had moved the plant location to their Fourth Precinct, two miles away, on Sho

"Not all mentally ill people deserve to be in jail, honey," Martha said. "Some people are sick and should be in hospitals."

"When I see him again," Eddie said, "I will make sure he goes to a hospital."

"So much for turning the other cheek," Martha said.

"Martha," Kevin said sternly.

When Eddie got home, Grace had told him that Babsie Panko'd helped her fix up an old pink dollhouse of Kate's. Grace had dragged it out of the attic and onto the front lawn. He remembered the dollhouse; he and Eileen had put it together one Christmas Eve.

"God came into our class today," Grace said.

"His spirit is always with you, sweetie," Martha said. "It's with you now."

"I asked Him to help Mommy."

"I pray to Him every day, too," Martha said.

"I see Him every day," Grace said

"You don't really see God," Martha said. "But you feel His presence and know He's always there for you."

"I see Him every day," Grace said, her voice getting louder. "Today, He said, 'Good morning, class.'"

"Oh, honey, I don't think so," Martha said.

"What does God look like?" Kevin asked.

"He's bald and he wears a black suit."

"That's Father Qualters," Kevin said. "He only thinks he's God. You ought to play golf with him sometime."

Eddie winced from laughing. Grace thought she'd hurt him, and her eyes welled up. Eddie pulled her to him and kissed her neck until she giggled.

"Well, Uncle Kevin has a whoopee cushion," Grace said, trying to retaliate. "He puts it under the chair cushion, and when you sit down, it sounds like a fart."

"Don't say that word, Grade," Martha said.

Eddie looked up at the clock and wondered where Babsie had gone. He wanted to fill her in on Misha and find out what progress she had made. But it was more than that. He liked the fact she was there, looking out for Grace. Babsie had a calmness about her. And an ope

"Listen, Eddie," Kevin said. "Next time you go into one of those Russian places, call me. Promise me that. Call me before you do something like this again."

"Eddie doesn't need your help," Martha said.

"You'll be the first guy I call, Kev."

"Do the police have anything promising?" Martha asked. "Any kind of leads at all? I ask Babsie Panko, and God knows I love her, but she doesn't exactly inspire confidence. That may be my opinion, but…"

"She's fu

"And that's good enough for me," Eddie said. "Us jokesters have to stick together."

Eddie still wondered how his former son-in-law had found out about Kate so quickly, before it even appeared in the paper. He didn't want to think Martha had called him. He needed Martha now to look after Grace when he was gone. Kevin would be around, too. But Kevin, God bless him, thought Martha was the greatest thing ever created.

"I have some good news," Kevin said.

"Please, honey, it's not the time."

"We need something good to talk about, right, Eddie?" Kevin said, sipping gingerly from a steaming cup of coffee Martha had pushed into his hands. The look on his face said it all; he had news that couldn't wait. "I heard something yesterday. McGrath, the electrician. You know who I mean?"

McGrath's Electric Shop had been next door to the North End Tavern for over thirty years.

"Everybody here knows the McGraths," Martha said, gesturing for him to pick up the pace.

"Yeah, but I bet you didn't know this: He's retiring."

"He says that every year," Martha said.

"He's already got a buyer for his house on Douglas Avenue," Kevin said. "I was in Food Mart and heard about it, so I went right over to him and asked him point-blank. He's moving to Naples, Florida. He bought a condo there last winter. He says he's had it with working his ass off eleven months a year."

"What is he doing with the shop?" Eddie asked.

"That's part of my idea," Kevin said. "You're going to love it, Eddie."

Kevin always had an idea, some big wacky idea. Invariably, too big for Martha's tastes. She apparently knew what was coming next. The look on her face predicted she didn't like Kevin's latest brainstorm.

"He's not in Florida yet," Martha said.

"I was thinking," Kevin said, his eyes wide, his waving hands drawing the floor plans of his big idea. "We should rent the space for Kate."

"Don't mind him, Eddie. He means well."

"C'mon. It would make a perfect little restaurant for her," Kevin said. "She's been looking and looking. This place is perfect. We could knock out the wall between us. Put a small service bar in her place that co

"It sounds perfect," Eddie said.

"Let's not be getting our hopes too high," Martha said.

"Let's do it," Grace yelled.

Kevin Du

"It's all settled then," Kevin said. "I'll put a deposit down tomorrow."

Later that night, Eddie Du

Eddie needed a lawyer to get the proper documents drawn up, legal guardian, whatever he needed on paper to protect Grace. Not that he was putting his trust in the system. Not by a long shot. He knew the system well enough to know it never did anything for guys like him. Rolling around in the back of his brain was the start of plan B. Guys like Eddie needed to have a plan B.

He sipped a cup of tea as he looked into his granddaughter's bedroom. The old radiator clanked as steam rose. He'd pla

When he was honest with himself, Eddie could admit he'd been wrong. Maybe Eileen would have been different if he had grown up sooner. For too many years, he'd wasted his quality time in bars, being the last guy to go home after a night out carousing. His was a lifetime of booze and recklessness, which had provoked his forced resignation from the NYPD, and culminated in the death of Eileen. The doctors said cancer, but that ugly word didn't even begin to touch his guilt. He had no doubt that the stress of living with him had triggered her disease. Now, because he'd tried to make it up, because he'd grabbed his last chance to be a father, and a priceless shot at being a grandfather, they were going to take it all away.