Twenty-Two
I AM LOOKING OVER THE sick list when Helen calls, “Hey,” she says, “What time are you going to the hospital?”
“About 3 p.m. Why?”
“Is there anyway we can leave right after Mass and I can go with you? Dan’s car’s in the shop, so he took mine up to Baltimore to pick up some evidence in that hit-and-run last month. Martin just called and says he’s working the ER so he can’t come to the station. I asked if it would be OK for me to come there and he said, ‘Sure,’ so I was hoping to catch a ride with you?”
“Of course,” I say. “Any opportunity to spend time with you.”
“Oh, Tom,” she says sweetly, “you flatter me. Especially when you and I both know that the real reason is because you want to sit in on the interview.”
“Helen,” I say with mock sadness, “you cut me to the core!”
“A
