Free Madman on a Drum by David Housewright Page B

doin’?”
    â€œPretty fair, Tom. Pretty fair. How ’bout yourself.”
    â€œSame old, same old.”
    â€œHow’s your mom?”
    â€œFeisty, as usual. What are you doin’ here, McKenzie?”
    I flung a glance at Karen. “We’re looking for your brother,” I said.
    â€œI am right. He is in trouble, again.”
    â€œNot necessarily,” Karen said. “It’s just that we don’t know where he is. We were hoping he was here.”
    Tommy shook his head. “He’s not here. Hasn’t been here since— the last time I saw Scottie was two weeks ago when he spent the weekend. Mom invited the entire family over. Made a big dinner. Except Scottie was hungover; he was sick from going out and drinking the night before. So much for the family reunion. I probably shouldn’t have told you that.”
    â€œHas he spoken to your mom recently?” I asked.
    â€œHe calls her a couple times a week. Always has, even when he was in prison. Scottie was always a mama’s boy.”
    â€œCan we talk to your mom?”
    â€œShe’s not here. She went over to the Silver Bucket for the meat raffle.”
    â€œMeat raffle?” Karen said.
    â€œYeah. She goes there at least once a month. Meets her old friends, drinks some beer, buys raffle tickets to win steaks, chops, chicken. Last time she won ten pounds of hamburger.” Tommy smiled at me. “What can I say? You can take the girl out of the East Side, but you can’t take the East Side out of the girl.”
    â€œI’ve always liked your mom,” I said.
    â€œShe’s always liked you, McKenzie.” Tommy looked up and down and around, everywhere but my face, as if he were afraid of his own question. “I know why Studder is here. This isn’t the first time she’s checked up on Scottie. Man, why are you here? What did Scottie do that makes you come here?”
    â€œNo, no,” I said and gave his shoulder a playful shake. “It’s nothing like that. I was looking for Scottie because I need to ask him for a favor. I just ran into her”—I gestured toward Karen—“and we decided to look together.”
    â€œA favor? What kind of favor?”
    Be careful, my inner voice said.
    â€œI’d rather not say,” I answered. “But your brother, he knows people, people who might be able to help me with a problem I have. It involves—well, if you hear from him, just say I need a favor and ask him to call me.”
    â€œI’ll do that,” Tommy said.
    â€œAre you expecting to hear from Scottie?” Karen asked.
    â€œNo,” Tommy said.
    â€œMind if we take a look around?”
    Tommy’s eyes flashed at the insult. “I said he’s not here. I said I haven’t seen my brother in two weeks. Do you think I’m lying?”
    â€œI’m required—”
    â€œHey, you do what think you have to.” Tommy pivoted toward me. “If you want to search the house, go ’head.”
    I gave him my best, most sincere shrug. “I’m good,” I said.
    â€œI need to look,” said Karen.
    I gave my head a little shake and spoke quietly to Tommy. “Officer of the court. What can you do?”
    â€œNothing,” Tommy said. He waved at Karen. “Go ’head. Knock yourself out. I’ll wait here.”
    While we waited, Tommy told me that he moved back home a few months ago after his divorce. “Bitch took my kids, my house, my car, all my savings, and now I have to pay alimony and child support on top of it.”
    â€œThat sucks,” I said just to be friendly.
    â€œTell me about it. You ever get married?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWell, don’t. Not unless you’re absolutely, positively, rock-solid sure about the girl because, man, the only thing worse than a bad marriage is a bad divorce, I’m here to tell you.”
    â€œGood advice. I’ll keep