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I said, “The only things I can draw are boats, sharks, and swords. Anything else looks like a chimpanzee grabbed the pencil.”
Jane said, “That’s incredible. I’m in the same boat.”
“You can only draw a few things?”
“No. Mine is with reading. I can really zip through novels I like by great writers like Michael Connelly and Tess Gerritsen. But when I read the history books I’m assigned at school, I just can’t get into them. Now that I know it’s just a family issue, I won’t worry about it as much.”
Even though I liked her sly smile, I said, “Sorry, that’s not gonna cut it. It’s an interesting argument and I admire the effort that went into it, but you’ll read every history book assigned or I’ll try to draw your portrait and post it at school.”
Jane said, “I like that kind of out-of-the-box thinking. You’re turning out to be a pretty good parent.”
That was the kind of praise I needed about now.
I was still smiling at the remark a few minutes later when my phone rang and I heard Harry Grissom’s voice. As usual, he got right to the point.
“Mike, it was too hard to listen to that jerk-off Santos. He was jabbering on about you not following regulations. But all I could say was, ‘So what else is new?’”
A smile crept across my face, though I’d been dreading this call.
Grissom said, “I’ve never seen them quite like this before.”
I said half-jokingly, “So you don’t want me to show up at the FBI office tomorrow?”
“I don’t even want you to show up at an NYPD office tomorrow. You’ve earned a day or two off. Enjoy yourself.”
If I was a good parent, Harry Grissom was a great lieutenant.
Chapter 24
I spent Sunday with the family and on Monday was up early to make sure everyone got off to school without a hitch. It was fun. We played a couple of quick games over breakfast and on the short ride to Holy Name. We even arrived more than five minutes early. I was afraid it might give Sister Sheila a heart attack.
She surprised me with a simple smile and wave.
I ran some errands, cleaned up the apartment, and in general sulked about not being at the task force. Then, in the afternoon, I stopped in to say hello to my grandfather. He was busy at his desk when I walked through the front door of the administrative offices for the church.
I said, “What are you working on, old man?” I expected a smart-aleck reply.
Instead, Seamus said, “I’ve got to get this grant into the city before the close of business today.”
“Since when do you worry about grants?”
“Since I want a way to bring kids in the neighborhood, who aren’t Catholic and don’t attend the school, to an afterschool program that would include a meal and tutoring.”
“That sounds like a worthy project.”
“At my age I only work on worthy projects.” He set down his pen and looked up at me. “Is this how you’re going to spend a precious day off? Harassing an elderly clergyman? Do you think you could find something better to do with your time?”
A broad smile spread across my face. “It’s odd to have the shoe on the other foot for a change. You know how usually I’m trying to work and you’re bugging me about something. How does it feel?”
Seamus said, “You tell me. How does it feel to block my efforts to bring underprivileged kids in for a snack and extra tutoring every day?”
“Okay, you win this round, old man. But I’ll be back.” Just then, my phone rang. I said to Seamus, “You were saved by the bell.”
I backed out of the office as I answered the phone. I didn’t recognize the number. “This is Michael Bennett.” I shaded my eyes from the afternoon sun.
“And this is Lewis Vineyard.”
It took me a second to realize that was my Russian mob informant’s new name. At least one he was trying out. “I’m a little surprised to hear from you.”
