58

“Dad,” Alison said, as she sat down to eat with her father and Grandpa Y at the little table in the kitchen. “You must be exhausted. I heard you leave early this morning.”

“I’m fine. The first days of an investigation are non-stop, and I had to go to a funeral,” he said. “Grandpa Y made your breakfast, didn’t he?”

“Yeah. It’s called shakshuka. His new Israeli girlfriend taught him.”

“Baked tomatoes and poached eggs,” Grandpa Y said, bringing out the serving dish. “We saved you some.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Ari said, and dug into the food.

This was the first time the three of them had been together in days. Her father looked tired. She’d been holding off talking to him about her new relationship with Dr. Burns. She felt guilty bringing it up and bothering him when he was so preoccupied with his cases. But she also felt guilty keeping it from him.

She knew it was time to do it. Before she could say a word, he turned to her.

“I’m sure you’ll be covering the demonstration when it ‘pops up,’ ” he said. “Wherever that turns out to be.”

“Full network coverage. There’ll be a lot of police there, won’t there?”

“It looks as if the mayor and maybe even the premier are going to show up. We’ll have tons of security.”

He finished his food. “Thanks, Dad,” he said. “Better than what your Russian girlfriend had you cooking.”

They all laughed. Grandpa Y had found a website for older Jewish men and women, and he seemed to have a new girlfriend every few months.

“I’ve got to get rolling,” Ari said, about to get up.

“Dad.” Alison grabbed his arm.

“Yes,” he said, surprised. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to tell you something.”

He looked at her, smiling.

She let go of his arm. “Well, you know, I mean you’ve always been respectful of my privacy. And I really appreciate it.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He looked confused. He traded glances with Grandpa Y.

Alison looked at Grandpa Y too. He tilted his head so her dad couldn’t see and winked at her.

She looked right at her dad. “I’ve started seeing someone.”

“Great.”

“It’s kind of complicated.”

“In my experience relationships are always complicated. Congratulations.” He started to get up again.

“Dad,” she said, grabbing his arm a second time. “It’s Dr. Burns.”

“A doctor?”

“Burns.”

“Am I supposed to know him?”

“He’s the man leading all these demonstrations. The one who had the crowd screaming the cops don’t care outside your office.”

She tensed. He was sure to be angry when he found out that she was attracted to someone who had made him a target.

“Oh,” he said. “The guy on TV with the bicycle.”

Since Alison’s initial report, Burns had been doing the rounds of interviews. Reporters loved the image of a bicycle-riding physician who was so committed to the homeless.

“Yes, Dad. The guy on TV.”

He shrugged. One of his dad shrugs, as she liked to call them. She was sure he’d inherited them from Grandpa Y.

“So it was his bike that I saw locked up outside your door when I left early this morning?”

Grandpa Y laughed. “Alison, your father is a detective! He doesn’t miss a thing.”

She smiled. “Yes, it was Arnold’s bike. He rides it all year long.”

“Good,” he said. “He seems really committed to his cause.”

“He is.”

“I thought so too,” Grandpa Y chimed in.

Her father wasn’t upset. She was gobsmacked.

“Aren’t you angry at me for seeing him?”

“Why would I be upset?”

“He’s saying all these terrible things about the police.”

“Seems to me he’s doing a good job. Look at the hornet’s nest he’s stirred up. This protest is getting publicity for homelessness right across the country and beyond.”

She shook her head. This was exactly the argument she had planned to make in Arnold’s favour to fight with her dad.

“You finished?” he asked her, picking up his plate and kissing her on the top of her head. “I’ve got to hit the road.”

“Thanks, Dad.” She’d never called him Daddy, but for the first time that word almost popped out of her mouth.

He rinsed his dishes and was gone. She looked over to Grandpa Y.

He was laughing.

“What’s so funny?” she said.

“Life,” he said. “And the pursuit of happiness.”