Dennis Lehane - Sacred

A piece of advice: If you ever follow someone in

Last year, Trevor Stone said, my wife was driving back

Fifty, Angie said as we rode the subway from Wonderland

Angie looked up from the reports and rubbed her eyes.

Fin de sicle, Ginny Regan said.

Hello!

The front door of Grief Release, Inc., was black birch

So they know who you are, Angie said as we

Richie Colgan claims his ancestors are from Nigeria, but Im

Four years ago, after a particularly lucrative case involving insurance

Desiree Stone, Angie repeated. Come on, John. We know she

So my daughters in Tampa, Trevor Stone said.

Whod you say youre working for? Captain Groning said.

The offices of Hamlyn and Kohl Worldwide Investigations occupied the

Id never been on a private jet before, so I

Harbor Island looked to be man-made and relatively new. It

No one we talked to at the Courtyard Marriott recognized

To get to Bradenton, we drove 275 south through St. Petersburg

Jesus, Angie, Jay said, last time I saw you, you

For the next few minutes, none of us spoke. We

The Grief Release retreat for Level Fives was held in

My father, Desiree told Jay two days later, once theyd

So, I tracked down Price at a motel just up

The road curved as we broke from a no-mans-land of

He going to be okay? Inspector Jefferson asked the EMT

The skyway bridged two counties. Manatee County, on the southern

My lawyer, Cheswick Hartman, had caught a flight from Boston

At nine that night, we were released.

We walked over to Central Avenue and headed north toward

Nice gun, I said. Did you pick it because it

Hi.

About a year after I finished my apprenticeship with Jay

Get up. Come on. Get up. I threw back the

It was all there to see in black-and-white for anyone

Whats she gain by coming back here? Angie said, adjusting

His office had everything the prosperous man needs, save a

We hailed a cab on State Street and rode against

The silence followed me as I drove back to Whittier

My first thought, as I swam back to consciousness, was

Trevor Stone carried himself with as much composure as Ive

I stood by the shower in the downstairs guest bathroom

We climbed the grand staircase slowly, Trevor leaning on the

We didnt hear what had happened until we got back

A piece of advice: If you ever follow someone in my neighborhood, dont wear pink.

The first day Angie and I picked up the little round guy on our tail, he wore a pink shirt under a gray suit and a black topcoat. The suit was double-breasted, Italian, and too nice for my part of town by several hundred dollars. The topcoat was cashmere. People in my neighborhood could afford cashmere, I suppose, but usually they spend so much on the duct tape that keeps their tail pipes attached to their 82 Chevys, that they dont have much left over for anything but that trip to Aruba.

The second day, the little round guy replaced the pink shirt with a more subdued white, lost the cashmere and the Italian suit, but still stuck out like Michael Jackson in a day care center by wearing a hat. Nobody in my neighborhoodor any of Bostons inner-city neighborhoods that I know ofwears anything on their head but a baseball cap or the occasional tweed Scally. And our friend, the Weeble, as wed come to call him, wore a bowler. A fine-looking bowler, dont get me wrong, but a bowler just the same.

He could be an alien, Angie said.

I looked out the window of the Avenue Coffee Shop. The Weebles head jerked and then he bent to fiddle with his shoelaces.

An alien, I said. From where exactly? France?

She frowned at me and lathered cream cheese over a bagel so strong with onions my eyes watered just looking at it. No, stupid. From the future. Didnt you ever see that old Star Trek where Kirk and Spock ended up on earth in the thirties and were hopelessly out of step?

I hate Star Trek.

But youre familiar with the concept.

I nodded, then yawned. The Weeble studied a telephone pole as if hed never seen one before. Maybe Angie was right.

How can you not like Star Trek ? Angie said.

Easy. I watch it, it annoys me, I turn it off.

Even Next Generation ?

Whats that? I said.

When you were born, she said, I bet your father held you up to your mother and said, Look, hon, you just gave birth to a beautiful crabby old man.

Whats your point? I said.

The third day, we decided to have a little fun. When we got up in the morning and left my house, Angie went north and I went south.

And the Weeble followed her.

But Lurch followed me.

Id never seen Lurch before, and its possible I never would have if the Weeble hadnt given me reason to look for him.

Before we left the house, Id dug through a box of summer stuff and found a pair of sunglasses I use when the weathers nice enough to ride my bicycle. The glasses had a small mirror attached to the left side of the frame that could be swung up and out so that you could see behind you. Not quite as cool as the equipment Q gave Bond, but it would do, and I didnt have to flirt with Ms. Moneypenny to get it.

An eye in the back of my head, and I bet I was the first kid on my block to have one, too.

I saw Lurch when I stopped abruptly at the entrance of Pattys Pantry for my morning cup of coffee. I stared at the door as if it held a menu and swung the mirror out and rotated my head until I noticed the guy who looked like a mortician on the other side of the avenue by Pat Jays Pharmacy. He stood with his arms crossed over his sparrows chest, watching the back of my head openly. Furrows were cut like rivers in his sunken cheeks, and a widows peak began halfway up his forehead.

In Pattys, I swung the mirror back against the frame and ordered my coffee.

You go blind all a sudden, Patrick?

I looked up at Johnny Deegan as he poured cream into my coffee. What?

The sunglasses, he said. I mean, its, what, middle of March and no ones seen the sun since Thanksgiving. You go blind, or you just trying to look hippern shit?

Just trying to look hippern shit, Johnny.

He slid my coffee across the counter, took my money.

It aint working, he said.

Out on the avenue, I stared through my sunglasses at Lurch as he brushed some lint off his knee then bent to tie his shoelaces just like the Weeble had the day before.

I took off my sunglasses, thinking of Johnny Deegan. Bond was cool, sure, but he never had to walk into Pattys Pantry. Hell, just try and order a vodka martini in this neighborhood. Shaken or stirred, your ass was going out a window.

I crossed the avenue as Lurch concentrated on his shoelace.

Hi, I said.

He straightened, looked around as if someone had called his name from down the block.

Hi, I said again and offered my hand.

He looked at it, looked down the avenue again.

Wow, I said, you cant tail someone for shit but at least your social skills are honed to the quick.

His head turned as slowly as the earth on its axis until his dark pebble eyes met mine. He had to look down to do it, too, the shadow of his skeletal head puddling down my face and spreading across my shoulders. And Im not a short guy.