At a commercial break Tessie spoke without looking at me. “I hear they found that old man you were hunting last week, drowned in the San. They picked up his body yesterday, what I hear. Your uncle, did you say?”

I grunted noncommittally.

“Lily Polter said you were a detective. So was he an uncle or a skipper?”

“Neither. He grew up with an old friend of mine. My friend got upset when the guy went missing.”

She flicked a fly with her bar towel. “I don’t like being lied to. Most especially not in my own bar.”

My cheeks reddened under my sunburn. “I figured if I came in here and announced I was a detective, someone might break a bottle of Old Overholt on my head.”

Her eyes crinkled with unexpected laughter. “I might still do that. Especially if I find out you’re lying to me this time around. What happened to the old boy?”

I shook my head. “You know as much as I do. He fell into the Sanitary Canal, but he was dead before he went in. I was over at Mrs. Polter’s trying to find a photo, but some guy came by this morning, said he was my man’s son, and took his union card and all his stuff that might have had a picture on it.”

“Said he was his son?” she repeated. “You think he wasn’t?”

“I don’t think. All I do is ask questions. I didn’t know anyone here in Chicago had an address for the son, and even if they did, he got here mighty fast. Still, maybe he had a nightmare warning him his father was dead and flew into town on the chance. You didn’t see the guy, did you? Mrs. Polter couldn’t give me a description.”

“I’m not open that early, hon. But if I hear anything I’ll let you know. Could be my old man saw something. He’s had a stroke, but he likes to sit outside in the evenings and mornings, watch the street, same as he has for seventy years now.”

I gave her my card and two dollars for the beers and the pretzels. As I headed for the door Tessie spoke again.

“You just somehow don’t look like the kind of girl who would let a drunk old uncle drag around in circles. Something about the way you hold yourself, honey. I figure you’re telling the truth when you say you’re a detective.”

That sounded like enough of a compliment to take some of the drag out of my step. I sketched a wave and went back into the heat.