The Axeman's Jazz

normal—too sugary, trying too hard to please; phony as Naugahyde. “I know why you were there and I just wanted to let you know I won’t blow your cover.”
    The TV words sounded strange with no r’s, pillowed into a softness that belied their origin.
    “Mother. Thanks for calling. I guess you noticed I was hiding.”
    “That’s why I didn’t speak to you.”
    “Well, thank you for that. But I need to ask you something important—what do you mean you know why I was there?”
    “Well, you just said you were hiding.”
    “Did you mean you thought I was on a case?”
    “Of course I thought you were on a case. You wouldn’t be caught dead at a meeting like that.”
    Did she dare press it anymore? She thought not. There was no way an Uptown matron could know which case she was on. But she had to hand it to her mother—she had great instincts. Any other mom would see her overweight daughter at OA and rejoice. How had Elizabeth figured it out? She decided, for the moment, not to ask.
    “I didn’t think you would either.”
    “Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
    “I liked the way you talked in there.”
    “Well, it wasn’t for you, it was for me. I didn’t see you till later. And I was mortified.”
    “Mortified! Why?”
    “What I said was personal.”
    Oh, brother
. “Well, I’m sorry I overheard it. But I really liked it. You sounded so real.”
    “Real! What do you mean by that?”
    “I just liked it, that’s all.”
    “Well, I don’t mean to pry, but I was wondering about your case. If the police are coming to OA meetings, it must mean something.”
    Oh, it does; it does. And what do you do when you have a potential great source with a mouth like a tuba and not an ethical bone in her body?
    Run for cover.
    “Can you keep a secret?”
    “Skippy, please. Did I ever tell you what Santa was bringing?”
    “Well, look, I really can’t discuss departmental business, but you know how women go to those meetings and kind of put their purses down and get all involved and don’t pay attention?”
    “You’re looking for a pickpocket.”
    “Well, I can’t really say, but anyway, whatever it is, we’ve had several complaints. And I mean several. I just think I need to warn you to be careful when you go to the meetings. In fact…”
    “What, Skippy?”
    “Maybe you should consider not going for a while.”
    “Because of a
pickpocket
?”
    Damn, she’d gone too far. “Just a thought, that’s all.”
    “It’s not a pickpocket! Skip Langdon, you tell me what this is all about.”
    It was the voice of a parent speaking to a five-year-old—a bullying parent, and she heard it as such. Normally, she realized, she would simply have responded without recognizing it, but the professional dilemma was giving her distance. She was still so busy trying to resolve her problem that she could listen to what was happening, be objective about it.
I must have heard that voice a thousand times,
she thought, and realized with a pang how different it was from the one shed heard in the meeting.
    “I’m really sorry, Mother, but you know I can’t discuss department business.”
    “You lied to me!”
    “Mother, I really need your help. Were you serious about not blowing my cover?”
    “Well, if there’s danger, I think people ought to know about it.”
    She spoke slowly, hoping her voice sounded calm. “Listen, it can’t hurt to watch your purse, can it? It would really help me if we could leave it at that right now.”
    “How dumb do you think I am, Margaret Langdon? Do you think I’ve forgotten you’re in Homicide?”
    Oh, shit!
    But, exasperated, she found herself laughing. “I forgot you knew. Okay, I’ll tell you the truth. I was there for the same reason you were.”
    “I know you weren’t. Even if you
are
fat as a pig, you wouldn’t go to OA any more than you’d go to church on Sunday. The way you neglect your spiritual life is just outrageous.”
    “That’s not true, Mother. I’m praying for a higher power to come to my rescue right now.”
    But when she’d finally gotten off the phone, it didn’t seem funny at all. She noticed she was sweating, even though the AC was on high. Her hands trembled. She hadn’t realized Elizabeth still had so much power over her.
    She stripped to her underwear and sat on the floor, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths. She had a dozen books on meditation, wanted its promised solace like some people want to quit smoking, but she