Special Operations (Badge of Honor 2)

“Be with you in a jiff, Michael,” the Bull mumbled, adding, “You’re early.”

He walked out of the sitting room. Mickey saw that his back, and the backs of his legs, especially behind the knees, were laced with surgical scars.

“Kiss, kiss,” Antoinette said to the telephone and hung up. “We left the kids with my mother,” she said. “Casimir and I have to really work at getting a little time alone together. So I came with him.”

“Good for you,” Mickey said.

“I didn’t know we were coming here,” Antoinette said, “until we got to the airport.”

Mickey wondered if he was getting some kind of complaint, so he just smiled, instead of saying anything.

“How’s your mother, Michael?” Antoinette asked.

“I had dinner with her yesterday.”

“That’s nice,” Antoinette said. Then she picked up the telephone again, dialed a number, identified herself as Mrs. Casimir Bolinski, and said they could serve breakfast now.

The Bull returned to the room, now wearing a shirt and trousers, in the act of hooking his suspender strap over his shoulder.

“I told them to come at ten,” he announced, now, with his teeth in, speaking clearly. “We’ll have time to eat breakfast. How’s your mother?”

“I had dinner with her yesterday. Who’s coming at ten?”

“She still think the other people are robbing her blind?”

“Yeah, when they’re not…making whoopee,” Mickey said. “Who’s coming at ten?”

“Who do you think?” the Bull said. “I told them we were sick of fucking around with them.”

“Clean up your language,” Antoinette said, “there’s a lady present.”

“Sorry, sweetie,” the Bull said, sounding genuinely contrite. “Ain’t there any coffee?”

“On that roll-around cart in the bedroom,” Antoinette said.

The Bull went back into the bedroom and came out pushing a cart holding a coffee service. He poured a cupful and handed it to Mickey, then poured one for himself.

“What am I, the family orphan?” Antoinette asked.

“I thought you had yours,” the Bull said.

“I did, but you should have asked.”

“You want a cup of coffee, or not?”

“No, thank you, I’ve got to get dressed,” Antoinette said, snippily, and left the sitting room.

“She’s a little pissed,” the Bull said. “She didn’t know I was coming here. She thought I was going to Palm Beach.”

“Palm Beach?”

“Lenny Moskowitz is marrying Martha Bethune,” the Bull explained. “We got to get the premarital agreement finalized.”

Mickey knew Lenny Moskowitz. Or knew of him. He had damned near been the Most Valuable Player in the American League.

“Who’s Martha Whateveryousaid?”

“Long-legged blonde with a gorgeous set of knockers,” the Bull explained. “She’s damned near as tall as Lenny. Her family makes hub caps.”