It's strange sitting with Cindy and Abe in a bar―not like those other times with her alone in Hart House―drizzly days, lost in my thoughts, lost in her haze.
Maybe that explains why when I try to picture her, those nights when I lie awake, her face is always indistinct... blurred by time, certainly...
But beautiful women in memory. Yeah, that's the problem―you never see them clearly.
"So, Prof, what have you got to tell me?"
What do I say? I get mixed up with the life I've led, and the dream of us I imagine in my head?
Instead, I renege and say, "I'm not sure where to begin."
She smiles knowingly, "Why not start with Nat and what he learned?"
Busted. I can't con this girl, so why even try?
"I'd hate to be given the third degree by you," I gripe.
Abe breaks up, laughing so hard, he's wheezing. "That's just it, Pal―I doubt you'd mind."
Cindy's eyes flash and it's enough to stop Abe dead in his tracks. "Give him a break, Abe."
She turns back to me, eyes soft, "Help me out here, Prof."
She knows I'm going to tell her everything.
"Well, here's the thing―Abe's perp in the cold case had connections with that house and some group called the Aryan Brotherhood. We found a notebook buried in the yard―it was in code but Nat got some colleagues to decipher it. It's a hit list of enemies and dates when they're eliminated, along with locations."
Abe whistles softly, "You really were busy, Pal. I take it these victims were all Jewish?"
"Most, but not all," I reply, "the killings lasted into the 70's and then abruptly ended."
"That's interesting," Cindy frowns, as if trying to solve a puzzle.
I don't take her bait. I figure less is more, so I stay silent.
"What else?" Abe asks.
"It turns out Hannah Becker's last name is Bühler―she's Reinhardt Bühler's granddaughter. She's been playing Esther all this time. Obviously, there must be something in the house her family wants."
Cindy shakes her head. "That's brutal―being betrayed by your best friend."
"I don't like this," Abe grimaces. "The girl's connected somehow to the Canadian government. There's more to this than meets the eye."
"Yeah, I think you're right," I mutter.
Abe looks at me narrowly, but says nothing. I'm sure he figures there's more, but gets up, smiles his crinkly-eyed smile and tells Cindy they'll catch up later.
If there's more he's not worried. He knows Cindy will get it out of me eventually.
And that leaves just her and me sitting in a bar with drinks.
"So Prof, are you going to order another round, or have you reached your limit?"
"I hate to drink alone."
"Well, I'm off duty―done for the evening. The night is young."
"How will either of us drive home?"
"That's easy―Erin will come and get us. She's my partner―you met her in the coffee shop."
I picture a seductive blonde and have to wince recalling that first meeting.
"Okay," I sigh, "we'll order another round of drafts"
"And wings,' she laughs, looping her arm in mine, brushing my cheek with her lips.
Yes, she's very good at her job―and me? Well, loose lips sink ships...and mine is beginning to list.