Part 4 (2/2)

”Can you?”

”No,” she said. ”But my deep-down instinct is that if you don't help him, he'll try to help himself, and I think he has the kind of personality that could snap.”

”Professionally put,” I said.

”If I put it into social-work babble, it would say the same thing but you wouldn't understand it. I doubt if the people I write reports for understand them. I doubt if they even read the reports. Lewis, you are starting to depress me.”

”I have that effect on people,” I said.

I looked at Severtson, who strained to figure out what was going on. I didn't say anything.

”Lew, you still there?”

”Yes,” I said.

”Well?”

”You want me working instead of spending the afternoon in bed with Joan Crawford.”

”Something like that,” she said.

”Dinner Sunday? My place,” she said. ”Seven?”

”I'll bring the pizza.”

”Kids want Subway sandwiches. They like the ads on television.”

”What kind of sandwiches?”

”Your choice. Seven?”

”Seven,” I said.

”Call me later,” she said. ”I've got to run down to Englewood.”

I hung up the phone.

”You like movies?” I asked him.

”Yes,” he said cautiously.

”Old movies?”

”Sure, sometimes.”

”Really old movies,” I pushed. ”From the Thirties and Forties?”

”Not particularly.”

He was beginning to look at me as if he had come to the wrong place, which was fine with me. He didn't move so I pushed ahead.

”How old are your children?” I asked, looking at Severtson, taking off my hat, and putting it on the desk. ”You have recent pictures of them and your wife?”

”Yes,” he said, reaching into his inside jacket pocket. ”Sally said I should bring them.”

He handed me a brown envelope with a clasp. I opened it and looked at the three pictures. There were individual color photos of a boy and a girl. Both were smiling. Neither looked at all like their father. The third photograph told me who they looked like. The kids stood on each side of their mother, who wore jeans and a white s.h.i.+rt tied about her belly to reveal a very nice navel. Her hair was blond, just like both kids, and all three had the same smile.

”My daughter's name is Sydney, after my father. She's four. My son is Kenneth Jr. He's six. He says he has a loose tooth.”

”Nice family,” I said, returning the photographs to the envelope and placing it in front of me.

”Used to be,” he said. ”Then.... wherever Janice has the kids, Andrew Stark is probably with them.”

”Friend of your wife?” I asked.

”More than a friend,” Severtson said.

He looked as if he were about to cry.

”I see,” I said.

”Stark is my partner,” he said. ”We own S & S Marine on Stickney Point Road. Upscale boats.”

”I've seen it,” I said.

”I caught them on the phone. Janice didn't deny it. She says it's my fault, that I've changed, that she needs attention not grunts.”

”Have you?”

”What?”

”Changed,” I said.

”Yeah,” he said. ”We've been married eleven years. I gained about four pounds a year. It's in my genes. So now Andy Stark is in my wife's jeans.”

”You talk to him about it?”

”They were gone before I could,” he said. ”Janice left me a note saying she wants a divorce and that she'll get back to me as soon as she's settled somewhere. That's what she says she wants.”

”What do you want?”

”My kids back,” he said. ”I'd probably even take Janice back if she'd come. She's going through some midlife thing or some woman's thing. I don't know. But she has no right to run away with Andy and take the kids. I want you to find them and bring them back.”

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