"Sure. You don't grow up in a house with three sisters and two brothers and one bathroom and not know something about toilets." Martin took Blackie from Diesel and headed for x-ray. "And I make a killer pork tenderloin. And I can make brownies."

I took Charlene aside. "Did you hear that? He makes brownies."

"What the hell, I shave my legs anyway," Charlene said. "And he reminds me of Fluffy. I guess I could give it a shot. Do you think he's interested?"

"Of course he's interested," I said. "You're a domestic goddess. Just what he wants."

An hour later, Kitty had the end of his tail wrapped in white gauze, and Blackie had a cast on his front leg.

"It was really nice of you to come in early like this," Charlene said to Martin.

"Happy to be able to help," Martin said. "You have great kids. Russell was a terrific assistant."

"Maybe you could come over and check on Blackie and Kitty and Fluffy sometime," Charlene said.

"Sure," Martin said.

We all stood around, waiting. Gary Martin was slow picking up social cues.

After a long moment, Diesel slung an arm around Martin's shoulders. "Maybe you want to check out Charlene's rabbit tonight."

The lightbulb went on in Martin's head. "Tonight would be wonderful! I see my last patient at five o'clock, so I could come over around six."

"We're having pot roast tonight if you'd like to take a chance on dinner with us," Charlene said.

"Boy that would be fantastic. I'll bring dessert. I won't have time to make my brownies, but I'll stop at the bakery."

We got Charlene and her kids and animals back to their house, waved good-bye, and angled ourselves into my car.

Diesel gave me a playful punch in the shoulder. "Are we good, or what?" he said. "Cross two names off our list."

I answered my cell phone.

"Your sister is coming over for dinner tonight," my mother said. "I'm making lasagna, and I've got an ice-cream cake for dessert. I thought you would want to come."

"I think I might be working tonight."

"What, you can't take time out to eat? Everybody has to eat."

"Yes, but I have a partner—"

"There's always extra. Bring your partner. Is it Lula?"

"No."

"Is it Ranger?"

"No."

"Who is it?"

"Diesel."

Silence.

"From that Christmas where our tree burned up?" my mother finally asked.

"Yeah."

I imagined her making the sign of the cross.

"What are you doing with Diesel?" she asked. "No, don't tell me. I don't want to know."

5

It was midmorning and clouds were creeping in above us. We were in front of Jeanine Chan's house, and we were reading her file,

"Not much here," Diesel said. "She's thirty-five. Single. Never been married. No kids. She works at the button factory. File says she has a problem."

Jeanine lived in a single-story, low-rent row house about a quarter mile from my parents' house in the Burg. There were twenty-one units to a block. They were all redbrick. Front doors opened to small stoops that were directly on the sidewalk. Back doors opened to tiny yards that bordered an alley. Two bedrooms, one bath, small eat-in kitchen. No garages. All the units were identical.