Tales of the City 02 - More Tales of the City

you.”
    “He’s doing better than I am, then.”
    “What?”
    “There’s no one there, Mary Ann.”
    She turned slowly and looked toward the door again.
    Burke was right. There was no one there .

Tears at the Tivoli
    M ONA WAS BEGINNING HER SECOND HALF LITER OF red wine when Mrs. Madrigal arrived at the Savoy-Tivoli.
    Alone.
    “Are you all right, Mrs. Madrigal?”
    The landlady nodded. “It could have been nastier, I suppose.” She slipped into a chair and grasped Mona’s hand across the table. “I did my best, dear.”
    “Did she make a scene?”
    “She tried to.”
    Mona hesitated, then blurted out the question that had been plaguing her all evening. “Did she talk to you about Mr. Williams?”
    “Yes.”
    “Well?”
    “I was flabbergasted. I had no idea he was a detective, much less hers. And of course, I can’t imagine what happened to him.”
    Mona was gazing down at her wineglass.
    “Look at me, dear. That’s the truth.”
    “I believe you.”
    “You must, Mona. You must.”
    “I do,” smiled her daughter. “Where is she, anyway? Was she bent out of shape?”
    “Totally. May I have a sip of your wine, dear?”
    Mona pushed her glass across the table. “I’m sorry you had to go through all this.”
    “She’s leaving tomorrow. You should give her a call.”
    “All right.”
    “Don’t forget, she loves you, Mona. She made a lot of sacrifices for you in her time.”
    “I know.” Mona retrieved the wineglass and took a sip. “Do you mind if I ask you about one more thing?”
    “Go ahead.”
    “Betty said that Mr. Williams told her your name was an anagram.”
    “How interesting.”
    “Well?”
    “Well what?”
    “Is it true?”
    Mrs. Madrigal smiled enigmatically. “Haven’t you tried to work it out yet?”
    “Then it is?”
    The landlady picked up a bread stick and nibbled on it. “I’ll make a very shady deal with you, young lady. I’ll tell you the anagram, if you’ll invite a friend of mine to dinner.”
    “Who?”
    “Brian Hawkins.”
    “Forget it.”
    Mrs. Madrigal set the bread stick down demurely. “Very well.”
    “I’m your daughter,” countered Mona. “I have a right to know that anagram.”
    “Indeed. And as your parent, I have a right to discuss grandchildren.”
    “Bullshit.”
    Mrs. Madrigal wagged her finger. “Mother Mucca will wash your mouth out with soap.”
    “Brian Hawkins is not even vaguely interested in me.”
    “I think he will be.”
    “Huh?”
    “Trust me. Mona.”
    Mona looked away. “He made me feel like such a damned fool.”
    “Oh, Mona, we’re all damned fools! Some of us just have more fun with it than others. Loosen up, dear! Don’t be so afraid to cry … or laugh, for that matter. Laugh all you want and cry all you want and whistle at pretty men in the street and to hell with anybody who thinks you’re a damned fool!” She lifted the wineglass in a toast to the younger woman. “I love you, dear. And that makes you free to do anything.”
    Mona didn’t answer. There were tears streaming down her face. Mrs. Madrigal reached across the table and dabbed her eyes with a napkin.
    “Wet enough for you?” asked Mona.
    Suddenly, the waiter loomed over them.
    “Oh, Luciano,” exclaimed Mrs. Madrigal. “Have you met my daughter?”
    The waiter made a courtly bow. Mona flushed and extended her hand. The waiter kissed it, saying, “Bella.”
    Mrs. Madrigal smiled proudly. “Of course she’s bella! She takes after her … whatever.”
    Mona smiled at her through bleary eyes. “You’re so weird.”
    “Grazie,” said her landlady.

Descent into Nowhere
    M ARY ANN’S EYES GREW AS BIG AS COMMUNION wafers as she stared at the spot where the man with the transplant had been. “I swear, Burke. He was right there next to the door.”
    “Maybe,” shrugged Burke. “But he ain’t there now.”
    “I guess he went back outside.”
    “Do you want to look?”
    She hesitated. “I think we should. But we can’t look like we are.”
    “Right. And what did you mean, he had something with him?”
    She shifted from a kneeling to a sitting position, following Burke’s cue. “I’m not sure,” she said uneasily. “It looked like a Styrofoam cooler.”
    He blinked at her. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”
    She shook her head. “I never mentioned it. Jon saw him leaving the hospital with a Styrofoam cooler last week.”
    “So?”
    “So nothing. That’s just what he saw. Out in the parking lot.”
    Burke