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the PI agency I never got off the ground in fact, I think the paint’s still wet on the door Never was a businessman, never any good with figures, an’ the bastard that sold me the place must have seen me cominghe fuckm’ saw ‘sucker’ written right across my forehead I got a computer compatible with no one, least of all myself, a cockeyed telephone system, and I had my cell phone no more than half an hour before I lost it I hadn’t gotten the insurance

    BE
    arranged, so I got no cover, an’ now I can’t sell the equipment for what I paid for it. So, I don’t know about passing any overflow cases to you. I’m looking around for myself, business pretty thin on the ground. You got much going?”
    He looked over the office and smiled.
    “I see business is flourishing, i can hardly hear myself talk for the sound of telephones ringing!”
    “Very witty, considering your own fiasco.”
    Lorraine fetched some’ clean mugs and prepared coffee. Rooney had glossed over the fact that he; had been in no shape to run an agencywith Ellen dying, and making!; arrangements for her funeral, he had been in a deep depression for weeks. | Lorraine felt sorry for him, since for all his bluff manner he was probably I* lonely, and she watched out of the corner of her eye as he leaned on Rosie’s desk and looked at the new Page Investigations Agency folder.

    “Makes interesting reading. I like the way you skim over the missing years, sweetheart. Readin’ this it’s as if you left the force with glowing recommendations instead of out the back door on your ass.”
    “Yeah, your section reads pretty good too.”
    She banged down the mugs.

    Rooney laughed as he read about himself and then he let the folder drop.
    “I tell you Ellen passed on?”
    “Yes, I’m sorry.”
    ‘Yep, went to collect her urn. I said to the guy, ‘How can I be sure these are my wife’s ashes? I mean, I know it’s the urn I ordered but you could’ve filled it with any crap.’
    “
    Rooney shook his head as he continued.
    “
    ‘It’s your wife, Mr. Rooney sir, you see her name is on it!’ Fucking crazy, whole life and it’s packed into one tiny brass jar this size.”
    He indicated with his hands and then rubbed his face.
    “She was in the kitchen, cooking. Her radio was on, always had her radio playing, used to drive me nuts. And she fell, I heard her sort of thump to the floor.”
    Lorraine poured water into the percolator. He didn’t seem to be talking to her or to care particularly if she was listening.

    “She was lying on the floor, still with a wooden spoon in her hand, and she had this sort of look of surprise on her face. She was dead.”
    “I’m sorry, Bill.”
    Lorraine leaned on the lavatory door.

    “Yeah, I guess I am. I mean, I know I haven’t been easy to live with. I haven’t even cleared her clothes out yet, hadda move into the spare bedroom. It’s like any minute she’s gonna call me, tell me food’s on the table. I dunno what to do with myself, Lorraine, I’m goin’ nuts. The house is quiet, I even miss her goddamned radio.”
    “Don’t you still see all the guys down the station?”
    “No. I did for a while but you know the way it is, once you’re outside it, you’re an outsider. Old drinking bars don’t feel right anymore, they all
    talkin’ about this or that case and I gotta be honest, it’s all high-tech nowadays, you know, everything’s computerized, breeds a different kind of cop.”
    2*”
    Lorraine went to his side and patted his big, wide shoulder. He gripped her hand for a moment.

    “I’m not in the way, am I?”
    She felt sorry for him, so she punched him lightly.
    “Like you said, we’re not exactly rushed off our feet. I’m sorry it hasn’t worked out for all of us.”
    Rosie stormed in.

    “What a place, it’s like a palace, I’ve never seen nothin’ like it… gardeners and servants, and the grounds are like some showpiece, ferns and flowers and swimming pools, two pools, and pool