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favorite.
    Ireland. Does a man go off to another country without saying good-bye to his family, without packing a suitcase? If Gene was in Ireland, why were the old coots playing it so close to the vest? Why not cheer the return of the native son so loudly you could hear it clear over to Southie? Why not tell his sister, dammit?
    Well, first thing in the morning, I’d check all the planes and ships bound for the Emerald Isle.
    “Hiya, doll,” a voice said close to my ear.
    I turned, ready to disillusion the hopeful stud, and came face-to-face with Mooney. He didn’t look like himself because a leer is not at home on that open, honest mug. I knew right off he didn’t want me to recognize him, because Mooney knows that “hiya, doll” is not an approach I favor.
    “Hiya, jerk,” I said softly. Anybody watching from his table would think I was saying something nice.
    “What are you doing here?” he said, smiling like he was telling me something else.
    “Drinking.”
    “I have a bet going down, Carlotta. I can earn a quick hundred if you leave with me.”
    “What do you get if I pour beer down your crotch?”
    “I can trade you something,” he said.
    I must have left the price tag on my ass after all.
    “No bet, Moon,” I said. “The lady leaves alone.” I drank up, shook his hand. “Tell your friends I’ve got a social disease.”
    “I
    guess my line is less than irresistible.”
    “You catch on fast. That’s what I like about you.”
    “I do have something to tell you.”
    “Tell me.”
    “Something important. Something worth a favor.”
    “So tell me.”
    “Somebody’s asking questions about you.”
    “Oh, crap,” I muttered. Somebody asking Mooney questions.
    Somebody asking Gloria questions. “Are the guys at your table cops?”
    “No. And I could seriously use a good reason to get out of here.”
    “Then I want the hundred.”
    “Ten,” he countered.
    “Ten, hah,” I said. “Eighty.”
    “Half! And that’s robbery.”
    “Arrest me,” I said. I added a generous tip to the price of two beers on the counter and winked at the bartender. “Let’s go”
    The old guys at the bar chattered like a bunch of monkeys when we left. Mooney draped his arm loosely around my shoulders. I stepped on his foot. Clumsy old me.

CHAPTER
    That’ll be fifty bucks,” I said cheerfully, as soon as we’d cleared the front door. The night air smelled of spilled beer and car exhaust. Faint stars struggled to compete with the city lights. A leather-jacketed teenager strutted by with a blaring boom box perched on one hunched shoulder.
    Mooney kept his hand on my arm longer than strictly necessary. “Most I ever paid to squeeze somebody’s shoulder,”
    he said.
    “But worth it.” I smiled to take the sting out. “Hand it over.”
    “When I collect, you collect.”
    “Oh, God, Mooney. Collect from those goons you were sitting with? I can’t wait that long.”
    “If I can wait, you can wait,” Mooney said. “You’re still a kid, you’ll outlive me.”
    Mooney plays at this old guy stuff, and I guess he is starting to catch sight of the big four-oh. He’s got a few gray streaks, and you can see crow’s-feet when he smiles, but he keeps in shape, and it shows.
    “Live hard, die young,” I said. Roz has a purple T-shirt with that slogan blazed across the chest in bright gold. Roz must be twenty or so. I keep wondering how long she’ll wear it.
    “You got it wrong, Carlotta,” Mooney said. “I learned it in school. It’s ‘Only the good die young.’ Before they get a chance to fool around.”
    “What were you doing in there?” I asked.
    “Police business.”
    It came across as a snub, and I took a step back to let Mooney know he’d made his point. Sometimes I think he’s still pissed at me for quitting the department. “It’s like that, huh? Drugs? I didn’t recognize the punks at your table.”
    “What were you doing in there?”
    “PI business.”
    “No kidding? You got a