The Lovely Chocolate Mob - By Richard J. Bennett Page 0,93

extra food, but that would be a bad idea. It’s too easy to just let it go, to just get out of shape. I had started getting up a little earlier and doing sit-ups, walking more and trying to be aware of the food I ate. Having a purpose seemed to spark an interest in my overall health. Were all good things interrelated like this? Maybe I should have gotten interested in harboring fugitives much earlier. Taking care of oneself enables one to take care of others. Was this what it’s like being responsible for others? Was raising children like this?

Dr. Burke had been going stir crazy; he was used to a huge mansion and walking all over a big hospital and visiting patients and being on the golf course and the lake. Walter reminded him if he thought it was bad here, he ought to try prison. At least here he could cook his own food, which wasn’t really saying much.

He did turn out to be a great help around the house, though; he vacuumed, washed dishes, cleaned the refrigerator, laundered the clothes, folding and putting them away, something I wasn’t used to. Usually I threw my socks into a drawer and dug them out of a pile; it was different finding what I needed in little neat stacks. He cleaned the bathroom, emptied the trash, and kept the house in overall neat order, and probably felt as though he had to earn his keep; he came here with nothing and wound up wearing some of my extra clothes, which I didn’t mind; I gave him what I could. They were a little big on him, but he made-do.

Walter watched television and played on my computer and used up all the paper in the printer. He had been working on some project but didn’t say what it was; all I knew was he wanted me to purchase lots of color ink. He avoided any gadgets and gizmos in his RV, since he’d been traced by the FBI after intercepting funds meant for Susan Lovely. By using a separate computer, he reasoned, he’d thrown the bureau off track.

Reminding Dr. Burke of his situation helped to convince him to stay put. We did what we could to relieve some of the tension; at night David came over after work, so we wound up playing poker a lot, and sometimes David’s wife, Mae Ling, sent oriental food over, which was eaten quickly, her cooking being much better than ours. We told David that Dr. Burke was my cousin; of course he knew better, knowing Franklin from college days, but if he were dragged into the courts he could say we told him we were cousins, and David would be considered an innocent man, who just played poker with the guys.

Table games were better with four people: the small talk that accompanied the games, the exchange of ideas, the fun of the game, and the good oriental food. This made for a good end of the day. We’d tell jokes and swap stories, but when Dr. Burke mentioned his warning from the cartel, being locked in a room and shown photos of his past, Walter, David and I exchanged glances and moved on to other subjects.

I usually went to bed at a reasonable hour since I had to work the next day; David had a wife to go home to. Walter and Dr. Burke stayed up playing cards after we quit; it appeared as though Walter had made a new friend, and Dr. Burke seemed to overlook most of Walter’s eccentricities. I supposed a doctor had seen much of the public and had learned to get along with different patients. Maybe he’d just grown up a bit; he didn’t have anything to do with Walter while we were in college. Maybe he wasn’t just another pretty face, after all, anymore.

I had continued seeing Miss Planter for our usual “mental evaluation” sessions, but it was clear our meetings had taken on a new atmosphere. She asked me personal questions, my views on life and issues, and allowed me to do the same with her. We tried to schedule marriage counseling with Franklin and Helen, but it was hard to get Helen away from home. Finally, one day Helen told the cops that she was going “out” so she could feel normal and in control again, and they seemed to agree with her; she may have become an irritant to them as well. She’d drive