The Geographer's Library

Jon Fasman
“I don’t know. Not too well. We’ve only been out a few times, but I like
her, you know? I get a good feeling from her.”
He looked at me sympathetically, eyebrow arched and mouth screwed
tight. “Exactly. So you’re not even considering the possibility that maybe she
sent you this note? Or knows someone who did? Or the caduceus on her
door means something other than the caduceus on your envelope? You don’t
think she’s the one who left this note for you?”
“Her? Hannah? What’s she doing, pulling teeth in her spare time? Of
course not. Anyway, where’s she going to get a tooth like that? She had all her
teeth when I saw her, and she’s no dentist.”
“Yeah, I know. Still ...I’m going to hold on to this. Meanwhile, just do
me a favor and you be careful what you tell this girl. It’s the Jewish mother in
me, you know?” He nudged me in the ribs, trying to lighten the mood. I
smiled despite myself: what else can you do when a lineman-size bruiser calls
himself a Jewish mother? “I know you like her, but as I said last night, I think
you might be dealing with some bad, bad guys here. Gomes and I, we’ll show
you what we got, but any way you look at it, I don’t think this was just an
absentminded, sweet old guy. There’s something else going on here, and if
you’ve only been out a couple of times, I’d say you don’t really know her all
that well. I mean, I guess she’s probably good-looking, right?”
“Right.”
“And sweet and smart, and she likes sensitive young guys like yourself,
right?”
I nodded but didn’t say anything. My ears were hot again.
He finished his lemonade, crumpled the wax cup, and shot it free-throw
style into the tall trash can in the corner. “Just watch yourself, is all. Hate to
see anything happen to a friend of Abe’s on my watch.”
jadid tossed an underhand sandwich spiral to a dapper-looking man—
slim-cut dark suit, as knife-creased as Joe’s was slovenly, shaved head, round
steel-rimmed glasses, mahogany skin—who was seated at the desk next to
his. “And what have you brought me here?” he asked, peering over the lenses
of his glasses. I wasn’t sure if he was asking Joe about the sandwich or me.
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