"You
do
have an addiction," Herman said.
"Listen, Jack, I owe you a lot more than I can tell you. Without you I
would have lost everything. Now I'm on the cover of
Lawyer Magazine.
I'm
so hot now I'm on fire. Judge King is even going to rehear my motion to reduce
the fine. Childbirth may have mellowed her. I'm going to see to it that before
I leave town your problem is taken care of."
"Don't do me any favors, Herman," Jack growled.
"Honey . . ." Susan this time, not Miro. He looked over
at her. "I love you. In front of everybody I'm telling you I want us to be
together. . . always. But not unless you get this problem taken care of. If you
want us to be together you're gonna have to take it from here."
Miro slapped his hands together. "Miro loves it! A
proposal."
Jack looked around the room. Shane and Alexa nodded. Chick was
staring at his shoes, but as Jack's gaze fell on him he looked up, his ham-red
complexion shiny in the hot room. The two of them locked gazes. "Do it,
man."
"It's the right thing," Izzy said. "You do it and
I'll write a song about it.
Cats gargling his name on the Sound Machine. How could he say no?
Then Lieutenant Matthews stood. He'd said nothing thus far, so
when he spoke everybody turned to look at him. "Jack, listen. You get
straight and I'll work on something downtown. Maybe we can get you assigned to
work for us as a special consultant."
"Or you can come to work for the Institute," Herman
suggested. "We've got an opening for a new detective. We'll never do
better than Jack Wirta."
Two job offers and a marriage proposal and all he had to do was go
see the former First Lady for a couple of weeks. It hadn't been a grand slam
because Miro hadn't offered him a partnership in Reflections.
Jack
did
want to ditch this problem. He
did
want to
get off the 'cets, but there was something very humiliating about all of this.
As Chick once told him when they were in Homicide, "If ten
people tell you you're drunk, don't drive."
Cop logic.
So there you have it. Jack Wirta, America's foremost chimpanzee
detective in a twelve-step program. Somebody call Swifty. Get this to the AP.
They parked at the Betty Ford Clinic in
Palm Springs, and Herman got out and retrieved Jack's overnight bag from the
trunk. Jack's back and shoulder were killing him but he was starting to feel
slightly better about all this.
Maybe he could finally get this problem
under control.
"Jack," Herman said. "I was serious about wanting
you to join the Institute for Planetary Justice."
"Really?" Jack didn't think he wanted to join the
Institute unless they could rename it.
"I'm serious," Herman said. "Right now I'm working
on a new class action suit against the Department of Energy and six oil
companies. I could use some help."
"Gee, Herm, I don't know. My car uses lots of oil. I count on
those guys."
"This is big," the heavy attorney said, waving his hands
around like he was cleaning a plate-glass window. "Get this, Jack, I think
the government conspired with the oil companies to steal the patent rights from
the estate of a man who designed a paint that acts as a solar panel. I don't
have to tell you what would happen if they used solar-energy-generating paint
on cars."
"They'll get hot and explode?" Jack said, trying to look
unsophisticated and dumb, something he could usually accomplish without effect.
"No, no. They'd run forever—without fuel. Think what that
would do for the economy, for the environment. . . for the planet.
"Right. . . right, for the planet. Yeah, I can see
that."
"You and Susan and I could make a difference here. You could
be a part of this. We could reverse global warming."
"I'll give it some thought," Jack said.
Then Susan took his hand and led him up to the front door of the
clinic where a tall, thin woman named Elizabeth Donovan was waiting for him.
Jack had been expecting the other Betty.
"I'll be right in," Jack assured her. Elizabeth left and
he turned to Susan.
"I'm so proud of you," she said. "And Dad is
serious, you know. He really wants you with us."
"Is he always like that? I mean, does he always look like
he's selling used cars?"
"Yeah, even though his ticker got fixed he still has a
runaway heart."
"Right," Jack said. "I can see that."
"So gimme a kiss and call me every day."
Jack did as he was instructed: he took Susan Strockmire in his
arms and kissed her. His love for her poured over his tortured body, soothing
everything, making him whole again.
"I want to do it," he said.
"Do what?" she looked puzzled.
"Marry you." He was still holding her. "I want you
to be my wife. I want us to grow old together. I want Izzy to sing at our
wedding."
"I accept, but wouldn't Barbra be a better choice?" Then
she smiled and kissed him again. This one lasted a long time. She pulled back
and studied him. "You're my hero," she said softly. "Now, get in
there and kick some ass."
So Jack Wirta, newly engaged hero, turned, but instead of riding
into the sunset he walked into the Betty Ford Clinic. The door closed and
Elizabeth Donovan took his arm.
"Mrs. Ford is in her office and wants to meet you. You'll
really like it here. This month will just fly by."
Month? Nobody said anything about a month!
But she had a
death grip on Jack's arm and was leading him down the hall. There was no
turning back. He had a job to do.
He'd ride off into that damn sunset later.