Free Sara Paretsky - V.I. Warshawski 08 by Tunnel Vision

where
there are rats.”
    Fabian
was looking at us from the end of the table, his countenance darkening. Emily,
focused on me, couldn’t see him.
    “What
about the father, though? What was he doing?”
    “I
don’t know. Maybe he lost his job and is ashamed that he can’t support them.”
Emily seemed to carry too many loads to burden her with Tamar’s tale of
domestic violence.
    “Emily!”
Fabian’s voice cut across the table talk. “Ms. Warshawski doesn’t need you bothering
her.”
    Emily
flushed again, but the anxiety fled behind the mask of stupidity she donned so
easily.
    “She’s
not bothering me. I like talking to her.”
    I put
a hand on the girl’s shoulder to reassure her. Through the wool dress I could
feel the tension at my touch, a forced immobility of the muscles. I removed my
hand and saw a slight relaxation. What was she afraid of? Surely not that I was
making a pass at her—but of Fabian’s reaction to me.
    “You
don’t need to worry about the Hawkings family,” I said to Emily. “That’s my
job. Okay?”
    “Okay,
I guess.”
    She
stared at me, wanting something, perhaps some assurance about her own family
that I couldn’t give her. After a long moment she looked at her brother, who
was clutching her sleeve. She gently turned him around in his chair and started
whispering tales of bravado, how if they found rats they would beat them with
sticks, then look at them with such mean faces the rats would run away. The
little boy laughed. I wished I could have given similar comfort to his sister.

9
    End
of Revelry
    Fabian
beckoned me so imperiously that I was tempted to ignore him and return to my
seat, but Emily’s mute anguish made me accede to his summons.
    “I
couldn’t help hearing your conversation with Emily just now.”
    “You
were paying close enough attention it would have been strange if you’d missed
it.”
    “I
heard you tell her it was your job to look after this homeless woman. I’d
rather you didn’t make it Deirdre’s job as well; she’s got enough on her hands
without taking on your stray charities.”
    My
eyes opened wide at this incongruous remark, but before I could command a
coherent response he continued.
    “You
should turn the matter over to Jasper Heccomb.”
    “Jasper
Heccomb?” I echoed like a half-witted parrot.
    “The
head of Home Free,” Fabian said impatiently.
    “But
... that isn’t the same guy who led the antiwar movement on campus when we were
students, is it?”
    “Heccomb?”
Blakely interjected. “I guess he was something of a radical in his youth, but
he seems to have gotten that out of his system. Runs Home Free very
effectively.”
    “Come
on, Donald—if he’d gotten it out of his system he’d be underwriting bond
issues.” That was Alec Gantner. “Do you know him, Ms. ... uh ... ”
    “Warshawski,”
I supplied. “He was a senior when I started school here in sixty-nine. So I
didn’t know him, but I tagged around after him. I never knew what happened to
him. When did he go to Home Free?”
    “He
went to Home Free five years ago.” Deirdre spoke behind me, her voice loud,
each syllable carefully measured. “And he’s been doing just the kind of job
Alec and Donald approve of.”
    Donald
turned in his chair and smiled at his hostess. “Thanks, Deirdre. I’m glad to
know that. Home Free is one of the charities Gateway supports and in days of
tight capital you like to believe your charities are well run.”
    Back
in my chair I looked bitterly at Deirdre. Having stirred up me, her daughter,
Gantner, and Blakely she was calmly finishing her salad. She was even speaking
cheerfully to Lina, as though sobered by our anger. I didn’t need to stay for
any more of this charade. I’d come because—supposedly—Manfred had put in a
special plea for my presence. I’d had my moment to bask in the great man’s
sunshine. My career certainly didn’t depend on staying to butter up him, or
Fabian, or even the son of my United States