Chapter 12

We decided to walk over to the Carl's Jr. on Broadway just north of Lomas. That's not my favorite hamburger joint, but I knew from experience that the McDonald's at Lomas and Broadway is always crammed, and Burger King lost my business a long while back so we'd just walk past the one on Lomas just west of Broadway. There was a Subway closer, and we both love their grinders – what I learned to call those long sandwiches when I was growing up in California – but we were in a burger mood.

As we walked, not hurrying, up 3^rd past the Convention Center, Cecelia said, "Now that we're off duty, as it were, I desire you to enlighten me regarding Lonesome George."

"You mean what he said about he's not Thorogood?"

"Precisely."

"Well, it seems there's a rock musician named George Thorogood, and in one of his songs there's a line that says something like 'Lonesome George, don't you understand.' You know I don't do rock except for the occasional song, an' when I found this tune and listened to it I found it underwhelming, but somewhere along the line I guess someone applied that line to George."

"And you don't know where."

"Nope."

"That is characteristic, I've found, of many street people – their histories, as far as they're concerned, begin with them already on the street. It is not universal, of course, but it is common."

"Speaking of common, I'm surprised we didn't come across anyone who knows you."

"From my work at the mission, you mean? It is rather startling. I readily grant that I have not had the wide exposure on the streets that you have received since coming to Albuquerque – in 1992, was it not? – nor have I been at the mission for as long as you've been working in this city, but I would have expected, had I pondered the matter, that some of 'my' people would be around."

I didn't bother to answer her question about when I'd come to Albuquerque – she forgets facts the way I forget to breathe, and it was just one of her flourishes. "I'd o' thunk it, had I done any thunking."

"That was deliberate, my husband, and shall receive payment in full at a time of my choosing."

I grinned. "Shoot, you're so far ahead I might as well have some fun." I paused for a moment as we waited for the light at Roma. "Your mission's further east, an' maybe the people who hang out there regular stay in the neighborhood."

"That is a distinct possibility; it is quite plausible, now that you've mentioned it."

"Or we could o' just happened on a day when they wasn't none of 'em downtown."

"Always possible, of course," Cecelia said. "It is not, of course, a major concern; I shall speak with people the next time I'm at the mission. Which leads me to a proposition."

I waited for a moment, and then said, "What, you don't proceed to a 97-minute speech?"

Her finger in my ribs was sharp and, as always, impossible to predict or block. "I am aware of my tendency toward loquacity; you need not remind me of it at every turn." But she was grinning, and I knew she was just continuing the sparring match over how we talk that's been going on almost as long as we've known each other.

"If I ever want anyone to wax my loquacious, I'll come to you."

She laughed at that, not the big laugh, but one that was worth the line. "I am an expert at waxing loquacious, I admit. As to my proposition, since you obstinately refuse to ask me about it, I shall tell you. I shall proceed to the mission tonight – it will not flabbergast anyone, since I have never been on a schedule, and come and go as I please. I request that you accompany me; the people there know me, but you are the more experienced investigator, and will be better able to deal with individuals who may have useful information."

I nodded. "Sounds like a plan. We gonna eat there or at home?"

"There – I have made it a point to always eat the mission's food when I'm there, both because I never turn down a meal, and as a means of insuring that the quality of the food is acceptable."

I grunted. "To you food ain't 'acceptable' unless it's perfect."

"I might surprise you, Darvin – though I insist that the meals at the mission be both tasty and nutritious, and in fact secured the termination of one cook because she simply could not prepare edible comestibles, I understand the need for economy and bulk, and work within those constraints. Were the mission a restaurant and I in charge of the kitchen, things would change – but it isn't, and even if I still were, I would leave things as they currently are."

"Makes sense to me."

"As well it should, beloved, for I said it."

I glanced at her, and had to laugh at the grin on her face. "I may be an evil man – you've certainly been telling me that all these years – but you're an imp."

"I possess the plainness necessary to such an appellation, but I have never been and plan never to be a governess – English or otherwise. And you are certainly no Edward Fairfax Rochester."

"At least we like some of the same books," I said. By now we were on Lomas at the railroad tracks, and I looked both ways before stepping off. Of course trains are noisy, with their monstrous diesel engines, and the barriers are supposed to come down when a train's still a distance away, but I'd rather be too careful than not careful enough. When a train hits something, the train suffers the least damage every time. I don't care to fly through the air and land as a pulp.