J is for Judgement

forced to ride it out. Unfortunately, I had no idea the extent of what he'd done."
    "Was it actually fraud?"
    "Oh, big time. It was major. The days went by and all this shit came to light. He'd been stripping the company till there was nothing left. In the letter he left, he claimed he'd been pouring every dime back in, but I didn't see any evidence to support the claim. What did I know? By the time I understood just how bad it was, there was no escape. I didn't even have a way to recoup my personal losses." He paused and shrugged. "What can I say? With Wendell gone, there was just us chickens left. I gave' em everything. I copped a plea and took the jail time just to get it over with. Now you tell me he's alive. What a joke."
    "Are you bitter?"
    "Of course." He leaned his arm against the back of the banquette and rubbed his forehead idly. "I can understand his wanting out. At first I didn't realize the extent of his betrayal. I felt sorry for Dana and the kids, but I couldn't do anything about it if the guy was dead." He shrugged and sent me a rueful smile, moving with sudden energy. "What the hell. It's over with and you have to move on."
    "That seems generous." He gestured carelessly. He glanced at his watch. "I'm going to have to call this a day. I have a breakfast meeting in the morning at seven o'clock sharp. I need to get some sleep. Shall I walk you out?"
    I got up and set my empty wineglass aside. "I can do it," I said. "It's just a straight shot to the gate." I reached out and shook his hand. "I appreciate your time. You'll probably hear from me again. Do you still have my card?"
    He pulled a corner of it from his shirt pocket to assure me it was there.
    "If Wendell gets in touch, could you let me know?"
    "Absolutely," he said.
    I eased my way up the galley stairs, ducking my head as I emerged on deck. Behind me, I was conscious of Eckert's continuing gaze, his smile bemused as he watched me depart. Weird, but in retrospect, Dana Jaffe's response had seemed the truer.
    9 THE WALK BACK to my place took less than ten minutes. I was still wide awake, braced by the sea air. Instead of opening the gate and going into the backyard, I turned and headed down the street to Rosie's Tavern, which was located half a block away. In the old days, Rosie's was perpetually deserted, cavernous and dimly lighted, no doubt under constant surveillance by the health police. I used to meet clients there because nobody ever bothered us. As a single woman, I could drop in anytime it suited me without attracting the unwanted attentions of bounders and cads. Rosie might harass me, but nobody else would. Recently, the place has been discovered by sports nuts, and a variety of teams seem to use it as a hangout, especially on occasions when they've just won a trophy and feel the need for a parade. Rosie, who can otherwise be unbearably disagreeable, actually seems to enjoy all the ' testosterone and hysteria. In an unprecedented move she's even taken to displaying their hardware on the shelf behind the bar, which now boasts a permanent exhibit of winged silver angels holding globes above their heads. Tonight, the bowling championship. Tomorrow, the free world.
    As usual, the place was jumping and my favorite table in the rear was occupied by a gang of rowdies. There was no sign of Rosie, but William was perched on a stool at the bar, surveying the premises with a look of sublime satisfaction. All the patrons seemed to know him, and there was much good-natured bantering going back and forth.
    Henry was seated at a table by himself, his head bent above a pad of paper, where he was mapping out a crossword puzzle entitled "I Spy with My Little Eye." He'd been working on this one for the better part of a week, using espionage novels and old television shows as the underlying theme. He published regularly in the little crossword puzzle books you see in grocery store lines. Aside from the fact that he picks up some extra money, he's actually known by name among crossword puzzle buffs. He was wearing chinos and a white T-shirt, his face creased with concentration. I took the liberty of pulling out an extra chair at his table, turning it around so that the back rested against the table. I straddled the chair and rested my arms along the top rail.
    Henry sent an irritated look in my direction and then relaxed when he saw it was me. "I thought you were one of 'them.� �
    I looked around at the crowd. "Where'd we go wrong? A year ago there was