Liam Mulligan: Cliff Walk Part 12

Yolanda studied the menu while an elderly waiter too short to ride the Cyclone at Six Flags fetched fresh drinks and filled our water gla.s.ses. I scanned the prices. The Dispatch's bean counters might have preferred paying for that b.l.o.w. .j.o.b.

"Claus," she said without looking up, "I'll start with the pan-fried calamari and hot cherry peppers. And for my entree, the sus.h.i.+-grade sesame seared tuna with gingered rice."

"An excellent choice! And for the gentleman?"

"Ah ... I'm gonna skip the appetizer and have the signature cheeseburger with fries."

Claus sniffed at me and went away.

"I've been reading about the layoffs at the Dispatch," Yolanda said. "I guess they must be clamping down on expense account lunches, too, huh?"

"That they are."

"Oh, Claus?" She waved the little waiter back. "Scratch the gentleman's order and bring him the smoked salmon appetizer and the sliced filet mignon with cipollini onions and wild mushrooms."

"Certainly, madam," he said. Then he smirked at me and turned away.

"Trying to get me fired?" I said.

"No worries. It's on the firm."

"I can't let you do that."

"Why not?"

"It's against Dispatch policy."

"And why would that be?"

"Afraid it might make me beholden, I guess." Her lips parted in a half smile, as if she knew what I wanted to be holdin'.

"So we won't tell them," she said.

"Ah," I said. "You lawyers know all the tricks."

"Besides," she said, "this way I can s.n.a.t.c.h a few morsels from your plate." And when Claus returned with the appetizers, she pinched a sliver of my salmon with her fingers and popped it into that mouth.

"So I understand you are representing Vanessa Maniella," I said.

"I'm not at liberty to confirm that."

"She gave your name to the state police, Yolanda."

"I can't confirm that, either."

"Do you also represent her father?"

"Same answer."

"He is dead, right?"

"I couldn't say." She lifted another chunk of my smoked salmon and added, "I warned you I wasn't going to be much help."

"So far, you haven't been any."

"Told ya."

"Except, of course, for the inspiration I get from your presence."

"There is always that," she said. That half smile again.

"You know what puzzles me most?" I asked.

"Rap music? Black Republicans? How we lawyers can live with ourselves?"

"Well, yeah, but I was also wondering why Vanessa Maniella refuses to go to the morgue to ID the body."

"Maybe you should ask her about that."

"I would," I said, "but some very large men in her employ have advised against it."

"I see."

"I was going to tell them where to go," I said, "but I was afraid I might scare them to death."

Claus was back now, refilling water gla.s.ses and whisking our empty plates away to the kitchen. Moments later he returned with the entrees, and we dug in.

"Mulligan?"

"Um?"

"Know what puzzles me most?"

"What would that be?"

"Why haven't you unb.u.t.toned that blazer? It's obviously a bit tight on you, and I can tell you're uncomfortable."

"Not as uncomfortable as I'd be if I unb.u.t.toned it."

"And why is that?"

"It's embarra.s.sing."

"Tell me."

"Well, it's like this. There was an old coffee cup on my desk. I thought it was empty, but..."

She was chuckling now, and I hadn't even reached the good part.

"When I stood up to come here," I said, "I knocked it over and, uh ... I didn't have time to go home to change."

"So you have a coffee stain on your nice white s.h.i.+rt."

"A little spot, yeah."

"Open up," she said, nodding toward the groaning b.u.t.ton.

"What for?"

"Because it would amuse me."

"If that's what it takes," I said, and unb.u.t.toned the jacket.

"Oh, snap!"

"Yeah."

"You sure it was just a cup? Looks like the whole d.a.m.n pot."

She was laughing harder now, her head thrown back. It made her look even more beautiful.

That's when Claus reappeared and said, "Are we ready for dessert? Coffee, perhaps?" His timing was impeccable.

"No coffee for me," I said. "I already have some."

Yolanda put her elbows on the table, folded her hands, and rested her chin on them.

"You really are charming in a klutzy sort of way."

"Thanks. I think."

Claus spotted the stain and smirked at me again.

"Two Irish coffees," Yolanda told him, "and we'll share a slice of cheesecake with strawberries."

"Right away."

"And Claus?"

"Yes, madam."

"Stop throwin' shade at my friend if you expect the usual tip."

Claus skittered away. I'd never seen anyone skitter before, but I'm pretty sure that's what it was.

"You didn't have to defend me," I said after he'd gone. "I think I could have taken him."

She rested her chin on her hands again and gave me an appraising look. I tried my best to appear irresistible, no easy thing with my torso drenched in Folgers.

"Hey," I said, "do you like the blues?"

"I'm a Chicago girl, West Side. d.a.m.n right I like the blues. On the drive in from East Greenwich this morning, I jammed all the Littles on my iPod."

"The Littles?"

"You know. Little Milton, Little Walter, Little Buddy Doyle..."

"Cool."

"On the way home, I'm gonna switch to the Bigs. Big Bill Dolson, Big Pete Pearson, Big Time Sarah..."

"I never thought to sort them by weight cla.s.s."

I opened my mouth to say something more, but Claus was back with the coffee and cheesecake, and I saw no need to make him a party to my imminent rejection. Yolanda scooped a bit of the cheesecake into her mouth, closed her eyes, and went, "Mmmm." I wanted to hear that sound again, but without cheesecake in the picture.

"So listen," I said when Claus was gone, "Buddy Guy's at the House of Blues in Boston a week from Sat.u.r.day. Why don't we go?"

"Not happenin', Mulligan."

"You don't like Buddy Guy?"

"You just don't know. I adore Buddy Guy. It's you I've got a problem with."

"Problem?"

"I told you before, Mulligan. I'm not into white boys."

"It's been a long time since I was a boy."

"I'll give you that, but you can't outgrow being white."

"Didn't I tell you? I'm black Irish."

"Doesn't count," she said, but her eyes were dancing.

"I've got rhythm, too."

"Yeah, right," she said. "You're a regular James Brown."

"We have so much in common, Yolanda."

"This I've got to hear."

"There's the blues, for starters. We both dig Buddy Guy. And we're city kids, both of us raised in one of America's throbbing metropolises."

"I thought you grew up here."

"That I did."