Free Prayer for the Dead by David Wiltse Page A

news.”
    “Sorry, honey,” said Tee. “But Mickey will be just as happy to hear it.”
    She started to cry again. “I just hope he isn’t hurt. If he doesn’t want to be with me anymore, I can … I just can’t stand the idea of him being hurt somewhere.”
    “I’m sure he’s okay, Laurie,” said Tee.
    “Maybe he just lost his memory. That happens, doesn’t it? People just forget who they are for a while? Doesn’t that happen, Mr. Becker?”
    Not in my experience, Becker thought, not that he cared to share that with Laurie, particularly given her condition.
    “That happens sometimes,” he said.
    “Do you think it will take you a long time to find him?”
    “That depends on Tee.”
    “On Tee?”
    “He hasn’t given me the records I need to get started,” said Becker. “Tee-ee!”
    “They’re in the car,” said Tee, grinning and opening the back door of the sedan.
    Laurie touched Becker’s arm. “I don’t know how to thank you,” she said.
    “I haven’t really done anything. I may not be able to.”
    “You will, I know you will. Tee says you’re the very best there is.”
    “It isn’t a good idea to believe absolutely everything Tee tells you.”
    Laurie strained up on tiptoes and kissed Becker on the cheek.
    “Thank you, Mr. Becker. Thank you.” She was crying again as she got into the car.
    Tee tucked a file folder into Becker’s hands but avoided his eyes. “I’ll call you,” said Tee.
    “No. You won’t. You’ll leave me the fuck alone until I contact you. In fact, you’d better give me plenty of room for quite some time. Tee.”
    “Gotcha.”
    “Yeah, you got me, but I don’t like the way you did it.”
    “I understand,” said Tee. “You’re a good man, John.”
    No, thought Becker as Tee’s police car pulled away. No, I’m not, which is why I couldn’t tell that child I wouldn’t do it. Maybe a good man could have been honest enough to break her heart. But a bad man could not take that chance, Becker thought. It would be entirely too revealing.
    Alan had reached the top of the palisade and now Cindi was creeping her way under the overhang. For a moment her face was turned directly toward Becker and he thought she smiled at him. With a movement, he realized it was a grimace. Even an expert was struggling against her fear on this particular route.
    Becker felt the file folder in his hand and was suddenly glad for it. At least it was something he could handle. I’m like an alcoholic with a bottle in front of me, Becker thought. Sure, it will kill me, but at least it’s something I know how to do.
    He waited until Cindi had pulled herself around the overhang and was pressed safely—or as safely as her ego would allow—against the vertical face before driving off.
     
    The contents of the file were spread across the dining room floor in a semicircle around Becker’s chair so he could see them all by twisting his head. The dining table was littered with more papers and scraps of scribbled notes surrounding the computer and its terminal.
    “Technically, that’s police property,” said Tee, gesturing at the strewn files. “So?”
    Becker was bringing his aging computer to life. The seconds it took to perform its more complex functions had come to seem interminable to Becker.
    Tee was standing in the doorway leading to the kitchen, drinking a beer he had taken without comment from the refrigerator. It was a bottle from the same six-pack he had brought to Becker’s house two days before. Leaving beer and finding it untouched later was something novel in Tee’s experience.
    “So you should treat them with respect.”
    “I give them all the respect they deserve. It’s pretty slack work, Tee.”
    “We don’t have the Bureau standards in Clamden.”
    “No, you don’t. I spent the last two days running around and filling in the gaps.”
    “Sorry. I spent the last two days holding Laurie’s hand and maintaining law and order.”
    The computer signaled its