Free Getting Old Is to Die for by Rita Lakin Page A

say, suddenly loudly, "Mom. What a pleasant surprise."
    All talking stops. They can all see her from where they are sitting. "How are you?" Emily asks.
    "Just fine, that's good." Emily can tell she's lying. "I'm so glad you called, Mom. I was thinking of you tonight." Jack looks at her. Emily shrugs as if to say, well, aren't we, as a matter of fact.
    "The kids? The kids are good." Emily blanches. She closes her eyes and says carefully, "I know they'd love to talk to you, but they have play dates over. Should I disturb them?"
    Emily feels miserable. She knows the kids wouldn't be able to keep their secret. She gives Jack a woeful look. Jack bows his head. He's causing her family to lie for a man they hardly know.
    "No, I'm not busy," Emily continues. "Just finishing dinner. I made my favorite one of your recipes, the lemon chicken....Yes, lots of onions.... I'm glad you called, Mom....I'll talk to you again in a few days."
    Emily hangs up.
    There's a chilly silence. Jack stands when she returns to the dining room. "I'm so sorry." Their discomfort is clear. "I think I'd better leave now."
    Lisa and Dan get up, too.
    Jack tries to stop them. "Please, no, stay. I don't want to spoil the party. Please."
    Lisa insists, "Your grandchildren need their sleep."
    A chorus of "No, not yet" comes from the happy, wide-awake kids in the living room.
    There's an exchange of good nights.
    Emily walks Jack to the door. She kisses him on the cheek. "My father was a hero. I think you're one, too."
    Jack manages a weak smile and leaves.

    17

    FINALLY A LEAD

    J ack waits in the back of the Carnegie Deli on Seventh Avenue. It has always been a favorite of his even though the seats are cramped together and diners are forced to sit, practically touching shoulders, with total strangers. The aisles behind the seats are so narrow the waiters have to hang over the customers to serve them their meals. Sometimes a hot plate of food comes dangerously close to causing a calamity, but even though they are always moving fast, those waiters never miss. At least as far as he knows, they haven't.
    In the old days it was a big hangout for the famous stars of the New York theaters. Their black-and-white photos still crowd every inch of every wall. Many look old and faded. Now the restaurant exists mostly for tourists. And the prices reflect it. To give them a reason for the astronomical prices, the size of a typical sandwich could feed a family of seven. A human mouth couldn't open wide enough to get a full bite. But it's a trip down memory lane for Jack, so it's worth it.
    Jack orders a diet tuna salad plate. In the old days that order would have prompted derision from one of the big burly waiters. "What are you--a wuss?" Now, no one cares. Everything changes, Jack thinks with a sigh.
    It's ten-thirty A.M. Just after the breakfast crowd and slightly before lunch. Sitting in the very last row of adjoining tables, he figures he has a little time before it gets crowded. He takes out his file again with his notes on Patty Dennison. Hoping if he rereads, maybe he'll find something he missed.
    There's a contact number for Patty's family, so old it still has two letters in front of the numbers. MU. He remembers; that was a Murray Hill exchange, but the letters are long gone.
    Detective Tim Reilly arrives. "Glad you could make it," Jack says.
    "Yeah, but why here? I can't afford this place."
    "For old time's sake. Eat light."
    "Shucks, and I thought you were treating me." They both laugh. "Anything useful in the files?"
    "Nothing much."
    "That's a really cold trail, buddy."
    "I know. But I have to try."
    "You might be in luck. I got a lead for you. There was a newspaper guy worked for the Daily News back then--Milt Paxton? Do you recall?"
    "Rings a bell. Wasn't he a reporter who used to drive everybody crazy? Is he still around?"
    "Sort of."
    Jack feels this could be something. But he doesn't want to get his hopes up.
    The waiter comes over, pad in hand. Tim orders a