The Groaning Board

honey-roasted
peanuts and she stopped to buy a bag, hoping they would mitigate the bad taste
in her mouth. She knew that Laura Lee would call her later to try to explain
that this was a business relationship, which Wetzon could see it was. But was
it worth it?
    As she headed uptown toward the Upper West Side and home, it was Smith’s comment about stockbrokers that came to Wetzon’s
mind: “Lie down with stockbrokers, get up with fleas.” Anyone who lay down with
the likes of Hemingway Barron would be lucky to get up with only fleas.

Chapter Nine

     
     
     
    "Metzger’s
sister-in-law. Sheila,” Silvestri said. He Di vided the mofongo—an amalgamation of mashed
plantains and pork rind shaped into a cone, surrounded by a garlicky
gravy—between them unevenly.
    “Hey, you took more for yourself.”
    “I’m a growing boy.” He grinned at
her, daring her to say more. The scant shadow of dark beard lay half buried in
the cleft of his chin.
    “I won’t comment,” she said.
    “That’s a comment.” His voice was
muffled as he wolfed down his oversized share.
    Once at Café Con Leche, their
favorite neighborhood restaurant, a woman at the table next to theirs had been
eating mofongo. When Wetzon asked about it, the woman told her it was a Puerto
Rican peasant dish and gave them their first taste. They were sold.
    “We have to drive out to West Hempstead tonight,” Silvestri said.
    “Oh? How come?”
    “Metzger’s sister-in-law.”
    “What about her?” Artie Metzger was
Silvestri’s old partner at the Seventeenth Precinct.
    “She died.”
    “Oh, I’m so sorry. Was she sick for a
long time?”
    “No.” He signaled the waiter for
another beer.
    “It must have been a shock, then. Was
she much older?” “Younger. Forty-four.”
    “Was it breast cancer?”
    “No.”
    Silvestri was answering her in
monosyllables. Not that that was unusual. It was just that this time she felt
she was § missing the subtext. “What did she die of?” She forked the last of
the mofongo into her mouth.
    “Good question.” Something in his
voice drew her atten-tion away from the platter of roast pork, black beans, and
yellow rice in the middle of the table.
    She set down her fork. “God,
Silvestri, Metzger’s sister-in-law is a homicide?”
    “We don’t know yet.”
    “That’s what you’ve been working on.”
    He nodded. “We’re waiting for the
autopsy results.“
    “Jesus, how awful. Was she mugged?”
    “No. Judy Metzger found her.”
    “God. A break-in?”
    “Not so you’d notice. Only one thing
seems to be missing.”
    “What?”
    “Her briefcase.”
    “Was she a lawyer?”
    “No. A schoolteacher.” He shrugged,
dispatched the beer, “Judy talked to her Saturday afternoon. Sheila was
complaining about stomach flu. When Judy couldn’t get her on the phone Sunday,
she went in, found her, and called Artie.“
    “She lived in Manhattan?”
    “In one of those classy tenements all
the way east on Seventy-second Street. They found her on the floor of the
bathroom. Either she fell and cracked her head or someone did it and made it
look like a fall.”
    “When you get one of those stomach
viruses, you feel faint and—”
    “She was a nice girl,” Silvestri
said. He pushed his plate away. It was still full of food.
    “Was she married?”
    “No. You still hungry?”
    “No.” The news about Metzger’s
sister-in-law had put a damper on everything.
    Silvestri waved the waiter over.
“Pack it up,” he told him. “We’ll take it home.” To Wetzon he said, “They’re
sitting shivah at Metzger’s house.”
    “I’m glad we’re going. Shouldn’t we
bring food or something? I can go over to Zabar’s right now—”
    “I’ll take this stuff home, get the
car, and pick you up in front of Zabar’s.”
     
    Early morning was the best time to
shop at Zabar’s; second best was near closing. True, a few people were still
waiting at the cheese counter, and more than a few stood in front of the deli
counter clutching their numbers, but there were no long lines And you could get
in and out in minutes.
    Wetzon decided that the rugalach were
the safest choice. She picked out a box and got on the cash-only line. An
attractive young couple in front of her were discussing whether they had enough
food as they unloaded their shopping cart. It was enough for an army. Her mind
wandered over her day as she Watched the clerk check them out.
    That’s when she realized that she
hadn’t asked Silvestri