Dear Irene by Jan Burke Page A

over at my companion, his brows were knitted in concern.
    “You say O’Connor was killed?”
    “Yes. He was murdered.”
    “So you know what it’s like.”
    I stopped walking. “Do you mean, I know what
you
feel like? I don’t. He wasn’t my lover, but he was a beloved friend. But if you mean, I know what it’s like to lose someone suddenly, violently… well, yes, I guess I do.”
    He looked like he might break down right out there on the sidewalk, so I took hold of his hand and pulled him forward. “Come on, keep moving. It’s good for you.”
    “I’m sorry,” he said, following me. “I can’t seem to control my emotions these days. It’s humiliating. I’m not used to it at all.”
    Well, the Banshee of the Press Room had no trouble understanding what that was like. I let go of his hand but kept walking at a brisk pace. He was forced to keep up with me. “You need to get some sleep, Steven. Your batteries are too run down to cope with everything that’s happened.”
    Just then I noticed one of my shoelaces was untied. I stopped and bent to tie it, and became aware of someone watching us. From a car. A familiar car.
    “Excuse me a moment, Steven. I need to embarrass someone.” I left him standing dumbfounded on the sidewalk and ran over to the car, just as the red-faced driver tried to start it up. I pounded on the window and he rolled it down.
    “Pete Baird. What a surprise.”
    “How’re you doing, Irene?”
    “Pissed off, as a matter of fact. Since you’re willing to do your partner’s dirty work, I don’t suppose you’d mind being an errand boy. So here’s a message: you can tell your pal Frank that if he’s going to send his partner downtown to follow me around, he can—”
    “Whoa! Wait a minute! Frank didn’t send me down here to watch you. It was my own idea. I swear it. He doesn’t know I’m here. And you damned well better hope I don’t tell him I saw you holding hands with young Studley Do-Right over there.”
    “In the first place, you know I wasn’t ‘holding hands,’ not in the way you imply I was. In the second place, buzz off. This doesn’t concern you or Frank — and no, don’t give me a lot of bull about it. I’ll call Bredloe and tell him his boys are harassing me.”
    “That would be a laugh. The Captain knows what a pain in the ass you can be.”
    “Are you on assignment right now?”
    He turned red again.
    “I thought so. Have you ever done this before?”
    “Tailed people? Sure…”
    “No, I mean, watched me walk to lunch.”
    His brows drew together. “What?”
    But I had already reconsidered the question. Pete was working with Frank in other parts of town on the other days I thought I had been followed.
    “You’ve gotta believe me, Irene,” he was saying. “It was my idea. Frank would kill me if he knew.”
    I didn’t doubt that Pete would come up with something like this on his own. He was as loyal as an old hound to Frank, and notorious for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. A fight between Frank and me would be all the excuse he needed. “I’m very fond of you, Pete, but sometimes you are a true butt itch. I’ll just stand here until you get yourself gone.”
    He muttered something and pulled away. I waited until he had driven out of sight before I went back over to Steven, who was clearly puzzled.
    “Who was that?”
    “A secret admirer. Are you hungry?”
    He nodded.
     
     
    W E WALKED ABOUT three doors down and entered the world of Rosie’s Bar and Grill. Up until the moment we walked through the door, all I was hoping for was a chance to find out a little more about Rosie Thayer. I’ll admit that I was bringing Kincaid along to see if anyone there acted like they recognized him, although I was fairly sure he would have balked at having lunch there if he had been lying to me about not knowing Rosie Thayer. He was not the kind of man who went unnoticed.
    But as soon as my eyes adjusted to the dark interior, I made the