The Lovely Chocolate Mob - By Richard J. Bennett Page 0,97

it was time to use the telephone. I called Walter, who was probably deeply engrossed in the game, who probably wouldn’t want to be disturbed. “Pick it up, Walter,” I said to myself. It rang four times and then a recording came on, telling me to leave a message. I called him again. This time he picked it up.

“Hello?” he said. I could tell he wasn’t in the mood to be cooperative.

“Walter,” I said, trying to sound calm, “I need for you to do something.”

“You need for me to do something. Now? Can’t it wait?” he said.

“If we don’t act now then ‘Mr. X’ may not be able to see his kids,” I said, trying not to name Dr. Burke. “The problem is, the kids don’t recognize me, and ‘Mrs. X’ isn’t anywhere to be seen.”

“I’m getting popcorn!” said Walter. “Why don’t you give ‘Mrs. X’ a call? I’ve got my hands full!” he said, sounding exasperated.

“I’ve already called ‘Mrs. X’ too many times in the past,” I said. “I don’t want my number showing up on any police reports. I don’t want to appear being part of a pattern; that’s why I’m asking you to call her.”

“Well, what if I don’t want my number showing up on any police reports?” said Walter, crunching popcorn. “I’m a wanted man, you know.”

“Being a wanted man already,” I reasoned, “you’ve got nothing to lose.”

Walter was stumped by this twisted logic but said “Give me her number,” anyway.

So I did and added, “Tell Helen that her daughters don’t recognize me. Tell her to call them and let them know I’m sitting nearby, to let them know I’m legit.”

“Yeah, I’ll do just that,” said Walter, “and I may tell her a few other things besides.”

“Now Walter, be nice. She is the kids’ mother, after all.”

“I’ll try to remember that! Later!” and he hung up, presumably to call Helen.

“Hello?” said Helen, as she answered her cell phone.

“Hello, is this Helen Ceraldi…Burke?” asked Walter, picking at his popcorn near the popcorn stand.

“Yes, who’s calling?”

“This is an old college alumnus, Walter H. Dale. I have a message from Randall Owen.”

“Walter Dale, from college?” asked Helen. Walter could hear the unpleasant surprise in her voice.

“Yes, it’s me, Helen Ceraldi…Burke. Randall is looking for you at the ball park. Where are you?”

“I’m sitting out in the parking lot in my car; why didn’t he call me?”

The phone went dead, and Helen looked at it. That was under a minute, not a long call; oh well, she didn’t want to talk to Walter, anyway.

A voice next to her said, “He didn’t call you because he didn’t want the police seeing his number contacting you.”

She jumped as the voice spoke and turned to see a familiar-sounding man, peeling a mustache from his face and removing a wig and sunglasses. What stood in his place was an older, more worn Walter Dale than she had remembered from college days.

“Oh! Hello, Walter. Nice to see you again!”

“Why aren’t you in there cheering the team?” asked Walter. “J.R.’s doing good.”

“How did you find me?” asked Helen.

“Who else in town would have a flashy red convertible? It’s you all over,” said Walter, rubbing the hood of the car.

“I guess you’re with Randall, then? You know everything that’s been going on?” she asked, trying to not spill any information.

“Yes, and yes, I know everything. Why aren’t you in there? He needs your help.”

“I… I didn’t want run into Franklin,” she stammered. “If you know everything, then you know he and I aren’t on very good terms. I don’t want to see him any more than I have to.”

Walter leaned down next to Helen, putting his arms on the door window area, his head on his arms. “Say, aren’t you in some kind of marital counseling with your doctor-husband? Aren’t you two trying to get everything together?”

“Yes, we’re currently in counseling, Walter.”

“Well, while you’re there, Mrs. Helen Ceraldi hyphen Burke, has the counselor ever asked you why you have two last names instead of one like everybody else?”

“I have two last names because I love my father and want to honor him,” said Helen through gritted teeth. She really didn’t like the idea that Walter knew of her family problems.

“Oh, that’s funny ‘cause I thought mebbe you didn’t think your husband’s name was good enough by itself… as though you’re ashamed of him!”

“What I think of my husband is none of your business, Walter!”

“Right now, everything is my business,” said Walter. “And I’d be real careful about