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Depressing how hard it was to go straight once you started stepping over the line.
As soon as she cornered him, she saw he wasn’t Howard Berkovitz. His face was thinner, his hair grayer. But they were the same height, the same build, about the same age, and there was a strong resemblance.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, with the familiar accent of someone born and raised in Chicago.
“I know you didn’t.” She tried to look friendly so he’d see she wasn’t dangerous. “And I’m not really a police officer.”
“Then why was you running after me? I saw you before. You’re the one who was chasing me a coupla weeks back.”
“It’s a long story. I’m harmless, I swear. Could you do me a huge favor and let me buy you a cup of coffee so I can explain?”
“I don’t like to talk to people.”
“I’ll do the talking. Please. I’ve barely slept, and I’ve had a horrible few days, and I’d really appreciate it.”
His eyes narrowed, drawing his fuzzy gray eyebrows closer together. “Okay, but no funny stuff.”
“Promise.”
They were soon settled at one of the tables in a Western Avenue coffee shop with purple walls and weathered hardwood floors. She didn’t ask any questions, not even his name, and definitely not why he chose to walk around Lincoln Square wearing sports fan headgear. Instead, she told him about Berni.
“And this woman thought I was her dead husband?” he said when she was done. “She sounds like a cuckoo to me.”
“Berni’s eccentric, but she’s not crazy. She just misses her husband.”
He rubbed his chin, dislodging the Vikings helmet enough to make the horns crooked. “I guess I can understand. I lost my wife last year.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I should have appreciated her more.”
Piper kept her expression neutral. Time was ticking away. She needed to finish this quickly if she hoped to get a shower before she showed up in Deidre’s office. She confronted the elephant in the coffee shop. “You must be a real football fan.”
“More baseball. I love the Sox. You can take the kid outta the South Side, but you can’t take the South Side outta the kid.”
“I see.” She didn’t, and she nodded toward his headgear.
“Oh, I gotcha. You’re talking about this?” He pulled off the horned Vikings helmet and set it on the table between them. “I wear stuff like this to keep people from bothering me. Since Ellie died, I don’t like to talk to anybody.”
Piper was starting to get the picture. “The Vikings helmet, the cheesehead—they keep people away.”
He gave a satisfied nod. “Because they think I’m crazy.”
“Like you think Berni’s crazy?”
He thought it over. “I’m a fair guy. That’s a good point.”
“Would you be willing to talk to Berni? The three of us could meet here.”
“I don’t like to talk to people,” he repeated, in case she’d missed the point the other two times he’d mentioned it.
“That’s okay. Berni loves to talk. And all you’d have to do is nod. I think she needs to see you so she can let go of Howard.”
He stared into his coffee mug. “It’s hard to let go.”
“I can imagine it is.”
“I gotta say it sounds interesting. Most things are boring these days. Now when I was working, it was different . . .”
