Free The City When It Rains by Thomas H. Cook Page B

gets her information,” Edgar said. “But she knows you’ve gone back to working nights.”
    â€œHow could she know that? It couldn’t be Lucy. She knows to keep quiet.”
    â€œNo, I don’t think it came from Lucy.”
    â€œFrances,” Corman blurted. “It must be Frances.”
    â€œIt could be,” Edgar admitted reluctantly. “She doesn’t mean to let things slip, but sometimes she gets on the phone with Lexie and, you know how it is, the ladies exchange information.”
    â€œSo she’s told Lexie I’m working nights again?”
    Edgar nodded. “You’re not supposed to be working nights, David. You know that. It’s part of the custody arrangement.”
    â€œI don’t have a choice right now.”
    â€œWell, that’s also a problem.”
    Corman looked at him quizzically.
    â€œI’m talking about your ability to support Lucy,” Edgar added.
    â€œI can support her.”
    â€œBut to do it, you work this night shift thing,” Edgar said. “That’s a problem when it comes to custody.”
    Corman turned away. He could feel his blood heating and worked to cool it off. “What can I do?” he asked finally.
    â€œMy advice is for you to talk to her,” Edgar said. “You know Lexie. She’s not a bitch. She’s concerned about Lucy, that’s all. It’s not a spiteful thing. No bitterness. With you two, the whole thing was mutual. Even in the decree. Mutual. Mutual. Mutual. Every other word.”
    Corman’s eyes shot over to Edgar. “It’s about money. It always is.”
    Edgar stared at Corman sternly. “David, if I thought it was just the money, I’d tell Lexie to do her worst, and we’d see her in court.”
    â€œBut money’s what it comes down to,” Corman said. He looked at Edgar knowingly. “Look, Edgar, you and I both know that whenever anybody says it’s not just the money, it’s just the money.”
    Edgar shook his head. “Not always. In this case, it’s part of it, but it’s not the whole thing.”
    â€œWhat else?”
    â€œWell, for one thing, where you live.”
    â€œWhat about it?”
    â€œNot just the apartment,” Edgar said. “Although that could be an issue too.”
    â€œHow?”
    â€œIt’s pretty cramped, you got to admit.”
    â€œCramped?” Corman blurted. “Cramped? Jesus Christ, Edgar, in this city in the nineteenth century people were piled into …”
    â€œNineteenth century?” Edgar cried. “Nineteenth century? Who gives a fuck about the nineteenth century? We’re talking about the here and now, David.”
    â€œBut you have to …”
    â€œFace the facts,” Edgar said sharply, finishing the sentence. “That’s what you have to do.” Suddenly his face softened, his voice grew less tense. “Look, David, you’re my brother. I know how you feel about things. You have a—what would you call it—a romantic streak. Not everybody does.”
    â€œRomantic streak?” Corman said. “Edgar, what are you talking about?”
    â€œPhotography, that sort of thing. Working the nights. It’s not the usual thing.”
    â€œSo I have to do the usual thing to keep my daughter?”
    â€œNo, but you have to make a living at it.”
    â€œSee what I mean?” Corman said icily. “Money.”
    â€œMoney,” Edgar repeated. “All right, money. I mean your apartment, where it is, the neighborhood around there, the school Lucy goes to.” He lifted his hands, palms up. “All of that’s a problem for Lexie. She has concerns about it.” He waited for Corman to respond, then added cautiously, “Legitimate concerns.”
    Corman gave him a withering look. “Christ, you sound like her lawyer.”
    â€œNot at all,” Edgar said. “But I’d be a fool