“You might have left a note.”

I laughed. The day had turned April-nasty. Gray, windy, and damp, as usual too cold for my spring jacket. I detested spring in the Northeast, although we were walking because I wanted to. Simon hadn’t been shy about his preference for more civilized surroundings, but I had been insistent. I didn’t want to be inside with him right now.

“Simon, you nag more than my first wife.”

“Why don’t you ever use her name? Don’t you think I’d know who you meant if you said ‘Megan’?”

“Why don’t you go back to school and become a psychiatrist? You could become a twentieth century knight—Simon the shyster/shrink.”

He smiled and showed me his middle finger. He had a relaxed stride working as he looked around the community gardens. I was glad someone was enjoying this walk. I pulled my coat tighter against the raw.

He slowed his pace a bit. “It’s funny how some things bother you and others don’t. A couple of days ago when we were at the El Rancho you said the place stirred memories, remember? I used to have a garden right here. Shit, it was a long time ago. I was working for Legal Aid, kicking government ass. I used to come here at lunch to grow my vegetables. Tomatoes. If Earl Weaver could grow tomatoes in a Baltimore bullpen, I could grow them here.”

“How did they come out?”

“Lousy. He had the grounds crew get him special dirt. I read that in The Sporting News. No matter how broke I was, I always had a subscription to The Sporting News. Now it’s The Wall Street Journal.” He looked around the area slowly as if he were sipping at his past.

He stopped walking and turned to look at me. “Do you get The Sporting News}”

“Nah. I can’t stand the way the print comes off in my hands. Same thing keeps me away from the New York Times.” I didn’t think he’d ask about the Christian Science Monitor.

Simon seemed relieved by my answer and started to walk again. We came to the edge of the gardens. He didn’t seem to care and continued on the path that led to the bushes. Kneejerk homophobia nodded its head and I nodded back. The bushes would at least give us some protection from the fucking wind.

We were parading around between the tree-height ferns and bullrushes before I said anything. “How long do you intend to keep us out in this shit?” I led us to one of the naturally protected cubbyholes that formed at the base of the giant bullrushes. It usually served as an after-hours meeting place for men who wished anonymous sex. The area was deserted, since the weather wasn’t conducive to afternoon love. When the night came the weather wouldn’t matter.

“You’re the one who wanted to be outside. Here we are outside.”

“Aren’t we in a cheerful accommodating mood? Did you get laid for lunch?” The words were hardly out of my mouth before I was choking back the Aquarium image that flooded my mind. Simon didn’t seem to notice. He just shrugged.

“No, but things are a little better at home.”

“Really? The nightmares are easing?” God, I hoped so. An easy way out.

“No, damn it.” He shook his head. I watched him button his coat. “No, but at least we are back in the same room. I like it better even though I lose sleep. Better to feel tired than useless.” His face brightened as if he had remembered something. He had.

“What about you and Boots?”

“What do you mean?”

“You guys looked so good I was sure you would leave together, but then I saw her back at the party. What happened?”

“Nothing happened, and nothing will. Why didn’t you tell me that she stopped seeing me ’cause the relationship was a dead end?”

“I did tell you. You wouldn’t listen. You would only believe she was slumming. You were an asshole. Worse than usual.”

I didn’t have the slightest memory of the conversation. “She’s a good lady. I don’t want to fuck with her head.”

“How can you fuck with her head?”

“Come on, Simon. She wants long-term.”

“So?”

“What’s the matter with you? Back off, will you? First you want to be a shrink, now a shadkin?”

He put his hands up. “Whoa. I’m not sure what I just walked into, but sorry.”

“So what are we out here for?”

“Look, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I know that Boots cheers you up. Nothing terrible about that.”

The wind had died but the drizzle was thickening as I lit a cigarette. I felt impatient yet another part of me felt ridiculous. Here I was sulking because there was someone who could cheer me up and I didn’t want to admit it. I finished the cigarette and stuck my head out from under the branches and let the rain fall flat on my face. Two men walked down the path in front of us and graciously made sure not to look in our direction.

Simon lifted his arm and leaned it against the twisted trunk of a bush. I pulled my head in and asked, “What do you want to talk about?” My voice sounded quiet underneath the drops of rain tapping on the leaves.

“I wanted to follow up on the Lincoln lead you dug up.”

“It really isn’t a lead.”

Simon looked at me anxiously. “What do you mean?”

I looked at him standing there. Water was still running down my face. All the years of his concern and friendship washed over me. I was asked to guard his wife but my job was to protect him.

“We go back a long time Simon. After your divorce you said you weren’t ever going to let yourself get beat up again, especially by your own hand. Well, I’m an expert in punching myself out. That’s why you have to listen. What you’re doing here is wrong. However you term it, you have me spying on Fran. It’s lousy for you because it’s a wild goose chase that’s going to leave you disappointed. It’s lousy for Fran because she hasn’t done anything to deserve being followed. And it’s lousy for me because of the position I’m in when she finds out. And she will. Everyone finds out everything eventually. The point is to do as little as you can to hurt your people when the truth finally does come out. And when this comes out, it will hurt her.”

He thought about it. He thought about it for a while. We stood there as the rain slackened and watched a small bird peck in the weeds alongside the rutted path. Simon leaned back against the gnarled trunk oblivious to the shower of water his action produced. He rubbed his face with his hands and when he pulled his hands away his relaxed look went with them. Taking its place was tired resignation.

“I think you’re half right. I have been getting carried away and not keeping things in perspective. But I still think you’re wrong about labeling it spying. I don’t think anything terrible will happen between me and Fran if she does find out about it. I’m not prying, I’m trying to protect her in whatever way I can.” He shook his head. “I just want to make sure that all the angles are covered.”

He meant it. But how do you tell someone that he was covering too many angles already without telling him why? I wasn’t going to change his mind and I knew I was being drawn into something that wasn’t going to leave anyone dancing.

Simon kept on talking. “The other thing you’re right about. It does put you right in the middle. Since you think this puts your relationship with Fran in jeopardy, let’s pull you off. I can find a more neutral party. Give me what you’ve got. It wasn’t right to push you into this and I’m sorry.”

A part of me lunged toward the door Simon had just opened, but the friendship side didn’t budge. I couldn’t let Simon walk wide-eyed into another gumshoe’s incriminating information about Fran. I owed him more than that. “Look, if you’re convinced that this is the right way to go then I should do it.”

He looked at me carefully. “Why? What about being in the middle?”

“I don’t want a stranger poking around in your life. Especially since I don’t think there’s any reason to.”

He still looked tired, but a little less resigned. No worry, I had resignation covered for the two of us.

“That’s been my feeling, but I hadn’t really thought about you in all this. I suppose I’ve been pretty self-centered. I would like you to continue if you really can see your way clear.”

I shrugged. Clarity was the problem, but there was no choice. If I kept seeing things I didn’t like I would just add them to the mound of crap I already lived with.

He smiled and a little of his earlier humor returned. “So what about the Lincoln?”

“I don’t know yet. I have the plate number and now I need a way to check it out.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “What’s the problem? Call Motor Vehicle, they’ll give you the name and address.”

“It’s not that easy, I only have a fragment. Don’t worry about it, I’ll think of something. In other words, you take your mind off this shit and I take care of it for you.”

“Aren’t you getting carried away? I can find a way to check this easier than you. What’s the big deal?”

“It is a big deal. If I do this I want to do it my way. You can’t keep this stuff in perspective. Just let me do my job and leave me alone about it.”

He looked at me like he was about to argue but only said, “It’s frustrating to telephone and get no answer. Are you sure you won’t get a machine?”

I shook my head. “Just give me a little breathing room.”

He rubbed his face again. “You know, the stuff I said about you owing me and all, that was bullshit. There was no call for that; you don’t have anything to repay me for.”

But I did. “Of course I do, but this isn’t a favor. I’m going to charge.

Between you and the other case I can almost think of myself as working.

He didn’t seem too interested in my sudden industry. He started out from under the bullrushes and walked absently toward the path. After a step or two he looked back at me with a determined look on his face. “I’m happy to pay. How are you going to trace the fragment? As your client I think I’m entitled to that much.”

The rain had stopped, though every time the wind blew the branches shook their moisture loose. But Simon was planted pretty firmly. It was no time for invention.

“I’m not sure yet. I told you, I would figure it out.”

“What about Boots?”

“What about her?”

“She’s probably got access to government mainframes.”

“Why?”

His face broke into a big grin. “Everyone knows that Uncle Sam sleeps with Ma Bell. I’m not sure she can get the information but she would know how.” He paused for a moment and looked at me. “If you don’t want to see her I can.”

“No thanks, I’ll do my own talking. But leave me alone about the fucking Lincoln. Please Simon, this ain’t gonna turn up anything that will help you. You got to remember that.”

He started to walk up the path and back into the park. I caught up with him and could see the tightness of his jaw and the obstinacy in his eyes.

“It’s difficult to leave it alone.”

I nodded and, as I walked him back to his car, we talked ball. Although the weather seemed a brighter shade of gray and the wind had regained hints of summer breeze, neither of us supplied the conversation with much zip. Lately, all we had managed to spark in each other were our problems. It didn’t make for good baseball talk.