“And you had several, didn’t you?” I prompted. Bull frowned at me again. I lifted my hands to him, meaning, somebody has to keep him on track. Bull nodded. He knew about the loot lost somewhere in old Emil’s memory, and he knew I did, too. So he stayed pleasant and waited for more of the story to unfold.
“What were your sons’ names, Emil?” That might help, if he remembered them all.
“Mmm …” Emil looked at his feet. Thinking. I hope.
“Walter?” I started him off.
“Nah, not Valter, Giselle vas da first.”
“That’s a girl’s name,” Jamey stated flatly. He looked at me. “I know that much.”
“Yes, indeed,” agreed Bull. He nudged me with a toe. “Actually, Emil had all girls.”
I brushed dust from my shins resentfully. “Nix that. How would you know?”
“Of course Bull vould know!” said Emil, frowning at me. The frown faded. And when Bull sighed, I knew Emil’s memory was again derailed.
“Sorry I mentioned it,” I told Bull. And meant it.
Bull rocked on his massive feet and murmured to Emil, “Alice.” That galvanized Emil. “Yass, yass! Alice, my luffly Alice.”
He smiled up at Bull, who said, “She was very lovely. Who else do you remember?”
Emil breathed deeply, making an effort to remember for Bull. “V—um—Vanessa. Yass. Ah, my luffly Vanessa, she loved to dance, like her mother.” The memory evidently made him happy.
Bull shifted. “So Emil, how many daughters were you and the beautiful Rose blessed with, huh?”
Emil shook his head. “So long ago. Seven little girls we had. Little girls with pretty red hair and dresses. Shoes, dey needed. Dere feet, they grew and grew. Like the girls themselves.” He sighed. “Dey were angry with me always. Always needing stockings, school books I could not afford.… This is vy I hire my services to dem. Over dere.” He tipped his head toward the exchange. “I vas a very good accountant,” he added heatedly.
Okay. Now we were getting somewhere. I cleared my throat. “I’m sure. And now your girls are lovely, lovely grown-up women. Aren’t they, Emil?” Subtle. Nothing heavy handed. I felt proud of myself.
But Emil shrugged. “I don’t know …”
Jamey tilted his head. “Sure you do. You’re the papa, you had to raise them and then marry them off so some other guy would buy their dresses and food. And then you get grandbabies.”
I stared at Jamey. “Full of surprises, you are, kiddo.”
Emil’s wrinkled old mouth puckered. Something was bothering him. I leaped in, hoping this would lead us to the right memories, the ones we wanted to hear. “So. Now. As Jamey said, your lovely girls all married handsome gentlemen—” I had to pause as Bull gave in to a fit of coughing, which sounded suspiciously like laughter. He finally settled down, red faced. “All done?” I asked him politely. He nodded. I returned to Emil. “So, they all married, did they?”
Again Emil shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Jamey stepped closer. “Why don’t you know? They’re your family. Right?”
Emil gave Bull a frightened look. He reached for his cane, his big hands fumbling and shaking. Jamey picked it up and handed it to him. Emil snatched it angrily. “I don’t know because I don’t know. If I know, den I must know what it is your Slick Nick and Bull want to hear. I don’t want to remember!”
Bull and I tried to hush him, but Jamey wouldn’t quit. “Don’t you live with your family?”
Emil turned, head trembling violently. “No, no. I don’t know.”
“Then who takes care of you? You’re sorta clean, ya don’t live on the streets, that’s clear enough. And look at the fat on ya. Somebody must keep you fed. Who?”
Emil stared wide-eyed down at Jamey. “I don’t know.” Despite his frail wobbles, he tried to go around Jamey.
But Jamey planted his fireplug body in front of him. Emil growled at him, but the kid didn’t seem worried. His words sounded stern. “Look. You don’t dump your family. You seem okay to me, for an ex-con. Families gotta take you back, anyway. ’At’s why you got family, Ma says.”
Emil stopped suddenly and peered at the little boy. He never wore glasses, but I’ll bet he needed them. “Your ma says dat?”
Jamey nodded vigorously.
“Do you—do you—have a papa?” Emil asked Jamey.
Jamey tilted his head. “Sure. Every kid’s got a pop somewheres. Ma says so, anyway.”
“Ah, ah, zo, he does not live in ze same house with you?”
Jamey shook his raggedy hair. A no, I presume. “He’s too busy, Ma says. I think he ran off. In fact … well, I just think it’s good he’s gone. Good for Ma, I mean. And us.”
“Us?” Emil inquired.
Jamey nodded. “Me an’ my brothers.”
Emil leaned on his cane. He wobbled, the cane wobbled, but in spite of all that movement, he appeared to be thinking. I rushed up to his side and touched his elbow.
“Emil.”
He jerked his arm away from me but stayed where he was. Okay. Maybe still thinking.
“Mr. James,” he suddenly said. “May I go home with you today?”