The Final Detail: A Myron Bolitar Novel (37 page)

“Just worry about the here and now.”

“Precisely.”

“And what you can live with.”

“Yes.

“So maybe next time,” Myron said, “I should opt for doing the right thing.”

Win shook his head. “You’re confusing the right thing with the legal or seemingly moral thing. But that’s not the
real world. Sometimes the good guys break the rules because they know better.”

Myron smiled. “They cross the foul line. Just for a second. Just to do good. Then they scramble back into fair territory. But when you do that too often, you start smearing the line.”

“Perhaps the line is supposed to be smeared,” Win said.

“Perhaps.”

“On balance, you and I do good.”

“That balance might be better if we didn’t stray across the line so much—even if that meant letting a few more injustices remain injustices.”

Win shrugged. “Your call.”

Myron sat back. “You know what’s bothering me the most about this conversation?”

“What’s that?”

“That I don’t think it’ll change anything. That I think you’re probably right.”

“But you’re not sure,” Win said.

“No, I’m not sure.”

“And you still don’t like it.”

“I definitely don’t like it,” Myron said.

Win nodded. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

Big Cyndi was totally in orange. An orange sweatshirt. Orange parachute pants like something stolen from MC Hammer’s 1989 closet. Dyed orange hair. Orange fingernail polish. Orange—don’t ask how—skin. She looked like a mutant teenage carrot.

“Orange is Esperanza’s favorite color,” she told Myron.

“No, it’s not.”

“It’s not?”

Myron shook his head. “Blue is.” For a moment, he pictured a giant Smurf.

Big Cyndi mulled that one over. “Orange is her second favorite color?”

“Sure, I guess.”

Satisfied, Big Cyndi smiled and strung up a sign across the reception area that read
WELCOME BACK, ESPERANZA!

Myron moved into his inner office. He made some calls, managed to do a little work, kept listening for the elevator.

Finally, the elevator dinged at 10:00
A.M.
The doors slid open. Myron stayed put. He heard Big Cyndi’s squeal of
delight; the floors below them almost evacuated at the sound. He felt the vibrations of Big Cyndi leaping to her feet. Myron stood now and still waited. He heard cries and sighs and reassurances.

Two minutes later Esperanza entered Myron’s office. She didn’t knock. As always.

Their hug was a little awkward. Myron backed off, shoved his hands in his pockets. “Welcome back.”

Esperanza tried a smile. “Thanks.”

Silence.

“You knew about my personal involvement the whole time, didn’t you?”

Esperanza said nothing.

“That’s the part I could never resolve,” Myron said.

“Myron, don’t—”

“You’re my best friend,” he continued. “You know I’d do anything for you. So I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why you wouldn’t talk to me. It made no sense. At first I thought you were angry at me for disappearing. But that isn’t like you. Then I thought you had an affair with Clu and you didn’t want me to know. But that was wrong. Then I thought it was because you had an affair with Bonnie—”

“Showing very poor judgment,” Esperanza added.

“Yes. But I’m hardly in a position to lecture you. And you wouldn’t be afraid to tell me about it. Especially with the stakes so high. So I kept wondering, What could be so bad that you wouldn’t talk to me? Win thought that the only explanation was that you did indeed kill Clu.”

“That Win,” Esperanza said. “Always the sunny side.”

“But even that wouldn’t do it. I’d still stick by you. You knew that. There is only one reason you wouldn’t tell me the truth—”

Esperanza sighed. “I need a shower.”

“You were protecting me.”

She looked at him. “Don’t get all mushy on me, okay? I hate when you do that.”

“Bonnie told you about the car accident. About my bribing the cops.”

“Pillow talk,” Esperanza said with a shrug.

“And once you were arrested, you made her swear to keep her mouth shut. Not for your sake or hers. But for mine. You knew that if the bribes ever became public, I’d be ruined. I’d committed a serious felony. I’d be disbarred or worse. And you knew that if I ever found out, you wouldn’t be able to stop me from telling the DA because it would’ve been enough to get you off.”

Esperanza put her hands on her hips. “Is there a point to this, Myron?”

“Thank you,” he said.

“Nothing to thank me for. You were too weak coming off Brenda. I was afraid you’d do something stupid. You have that habit.”

He hugged her again. She hugged him back. Nothing felt awkward this time. When they broke the embrace, he stepped back. “Thank you.”

“Stop saying that.”

“You are my best friend.”

“And I did it for my sake too, Myron. For the business. My business.”

“I know.”

“So do we still have any clients left?” she asked.

“A few.”

“Maybe we better get on the horn then.”

“Maybe,” he said. “I love you, Esperanza.”

“Shut up before I puke my guts out.”

“And you love me.”

“If you start singing ‘Barney,’ I’ll kill you. I’ve already done prison time. I’m not afraid to do more.”

Big Cyndi stuck her head in. She was smiling. With the orange skin, she looked like the most frightening jack-o’-lantern imaginable. “Marty Towey on line two.”

“I’ll take it,” Esperanza said.

“And I have Enos Cabral on line three.”

“Mine,” said Myron.

At the end of a wonderfully long workday Win came into the office. “I spoke to Esperanza,” he said. “We’re all doing pizza and old CBS Sunday at my place.”

“I can’t.”

Win arched an eyebrow.
“All in the Family, M*A*S*H, Mary Tyler Moore, Bob Newhart, Carol Burnett?”

“Sorry.”

“The Sammy Davis episode of
All in the Family?”

“Not tonight, Win.”

Win looked concerned. “I know you want to punish yourself,” he said, “but this is taking self-flagellation too far.”

Myron smiled. “It’s not that.”

“Don’t tell me you want to be alone. You never want to be alone.”

“Sorry, I got other plans,” Myron said.

Win arched the eyebrow, turned, left without another word.

Myron picked up the phone. He dialed the familiar number. “I’m on my way,” he said.

“Good,” Mom said. “I already called Fong’s. I got two orders of shrimp with lobster sauce.”

“Mom?”

“What?”

“I really don’t like their shrimp in lobster sauce anymore.”

“What? You’ve always loved it. It’s your favorite.”

“Not since I was fourteen.”

“So how come you never told me?”

“I have. Several times.”

“And what, you expect me to remember every little thing? So what are you trying to tell me, Myron, your taste buds are too mature for Fong’s shrimp with lobster sauce now? Who do you think you are, the Galloping Gourmet or something?”

Myron heard his father yell in the background. “Stop bothering the boy.”

“Who’s bothering him? Myron, am I bothering you?”

“And tell him to hurry,” Dad shouted. “The game’s almost on.”

“Big deal, Al. He doesn’t care.”

Myron said, “Tell Dad I’m on my way.”

“Drive slowly, Myron. There’s no rush. The game will wait.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“Wear a seat belt.”

“Sure thing.”

“And your father has a surprise for you.”

“Ellen!” It was Dad again.

“What’s the big deal, Al?”

“I wanted to tell him—”

“Oh stop being silly, Al. Myron?”

“Yeah, Mom?”

“Your father bought tickets to a Mets game. For Sunday. Just the two of you.”

Myron swallowed, said nothing.

“They’re playing the Tunas,” Mom said.

“The Marlins!” Dad shouted.

“Tunas, marlins—what’s the difference? You going to be a marine biologist now, Al? Is that what you’re going to do with your leisure time, study fish?”

Myron smiled.

“Myron, you there?”

“I’m on my way, Mom.”

He hung up. He slapped his thighs and stood. He said good night to Esperanza and Big Cyndi. He stepped into the elevator and managed a smile. Friends and lovers were great, he thought, but sometimes a boy just wanted his mom and dad.