“No. Important things. Things so she’d know that she was important to me, to my family. Now . . .”
“You couldn’t have known.”
“I did know,” said Charlie. “And so did you. Which is why you should have stopped them from going out.”
“This is my fault?”
“No, but I’d prefer it if it were.”
“Fine. It’s on me.”
“You should never pass up an opportunity to be kind. You should never not thank someone. You should never not say something nice when you think it.”
“I don’t.”
“Okay, then.”
“You done?”
“I suppose so.” He slumped down farther in the chair. “You hear from Minty?”
“Not yet. But . . .” She nodded through the double-glass door, which Minty Fresh was approaching. “Tell him I was badass.”
“You were afraid to confront two old ladies.”
“Okay, tell him I was helpful.”
She had been helpful, in a way, in that she had broken into Mrs. Korjev’s apartment and found her matron’s address book so Charlie could call her sons, one who lived in Seattle, the other in Los Angeles.
Minty Fresh wore a black leather car coat with his usual ensemble of shades of green, but Rivera was wearing an ill-fitting tweed sport coat.
Charlie stood to meet them.
“The old lady okay?” said Minty Fresh.
“We don’t know. It was her heart,” said Charlie.
“But she’s hanging on?”
“So far. They won’t really talk to us—me—since I barely know her, officially. Maybe when Jane gets here.”
“Oh, right. You know that Chinese lady from your building is out on the front stoop. What’s she doing out there?”
“Pacing. They won’t let her bring her cart in and she won’t leave it.”
“Well, leave it in your car.”
“We came in a cab. Followed the ambulance.”
Minty Fresh shrugged.
Rivera said, “I can have a uniform unit take her home.”
“She won’t go,” said Charlie.
Minty looked to Lily.
“Why are you still here?”