Chapter 7

It took Denny just a little too long to find his voice. "Raymond, she's stunning!"

"I couldn't agree more." Red cocked a half-smile.

"Quite young."

Red adopted his best Captain Obvious tone to say, "You think?"

Denny was still clutching the photograph, staring at it intently.

"Her birthday is next week, actually," Red added, hoping to keep Denny from asking her age. This was getting awkward.

Denny gasped again, bringing the picture closer to his face.

"Would you like to see what I got her?" Red asked, reaching into his pocket.

Denny shook his head, eyes still locked on Lizzie.

Red was flummoxed. What's he doing? Looking for Waldo? Was this Denny's way of getting back at him for hitting on Shirley? Red canted his head, studying Denny's reaction.

The silence became deafening. The tension palpable. Red was silent, debating how long he should let it go on. He surreptitiously looked down at his Cartier watch and started counting.

After five minutes, he'd had enough. He gently tried to get Denny's attention. "Denny?"

No response.

Red tried again, increasing his volume. "Denny?"

Nothing. Was he was having a stroke?

Red reached across the table and gave Denny's forearm a gentle squeeze. "Denny? Are you okay?"

Slowly, Denny raised his eyes to meet Red's. And finally he spoke. "You said her birthday is next week?"

Yes. Last century! Red only nodded.

"She looks like.." Denny took a huge breath and let it out slowly. He was still holding the photo.

"Like what? WHO does she look like?"

"It's. She.. No. It's just a coincidence."

"Who, Denny?"

"Nevermind. Raymond, I should go. I've got a big trial tomorrow. Excuse me. Waiter! Check, please!"

"I already slipped the server my card. You weren't going to let me pay, were you?" Red chose to answer his own question. "No. So I took care of it."

Denny eyed him, cautiously. "Thank you, Ray. You didn't have to do that."

"No, I didn't. I don't see your point."

They both stood and pushed in their chairs. Red donned his slate-colored fedora. When Denny did an about-face, heading in the direction of the entrance, Red caught his elbow.

"Drinks on the patio, remember?"

"Sorry, Ray. Big trial tomorrow. Another time." He shook his arm, trying to free himself of Red's grasp.

But he's lying. Red was certain of it. Red tightened his grip and shook his head. "Patio."

He let go and made his way in the opposite direction without looking back, confident that Denny would follow. On his way out the back door, he stopped at the bar and ordered more drinks for them both.

When they were seated outside, Red decided to try again, but from a different angle.

"If you don't fully trust me, Denny, I understand. I've been out of your life for a long time. To say that we still need to catch up is an understatement. Just the same, whether or not you believe it, I am trustworthy. I'm also well-connected. They call me The Concierge of Crime for a reason. If there's anything in the world that can be done to help, I'll do it. Talk to me. I opened up to you, and you know that wasn't easy for me. Denny, you're my flamingo."

He paused, giving Denny a moment to think it over, before he pressed on.

"Who does Lizzie coincidentally look like?"

Denny downed his drink before answering, "My daughter."

"Elise?"

Denny finally looked at Red. "Anna."

Red rapidly blinked three times in succession, but he waited for Denny to elaborate.

When it became clear that he wouldn't, Red pressed further, "You have another daughter, and she looks like Lizzie? This morning, you said that you had 'just the one'". Red winced at his own words. Was it unfair to call him out like that?

Denny nodded slowly. "Her birthday is next week, too."

Red leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, briefly chewing on his cheek. It was a delicate situation, but for now, he just had to keep asking the right questions. The next one was especially tough.

"Where is Anna?"

Denny's eyes again lifted to meet Red's, but this time they were rheumy with long-unshed tears.

"I don't know, Raymond. She may have died. That's the worst part."

"Tell me about her mother."

"It was the '80s. We were briefly docked in Norfolk, at the time. She and I weren't even dating. It was a drunken fling. I've had thousands, you know? Denny Crane. I should have seen it coming."

Red nodded. "Perhaps."

"She had a boyfriend, but he was away on business. It was never her intention to tell me about our baby. She wanted to raise our daughter with her boyfriend, letting him believe that he was her father. She contacted me a year after Anna was born, and only because she needed money. I offered a cashier's check, on the condition that I got to meet her first. I almost wish I hadn't. Letting her go... it was among the hardest things I've ever done." His voice was coming out strained.

"Take your time, Denny. Remember to breathe." Red was becoming increasingly concerned, and he was dying to hear more, but in this moment, his top priority was to reassure his friend.

Denny took a deep breath and continued, "Anyway, they moved around a lot, so whenever she was strapped for cash, she'd send me a recent photograph. That's how I knew where to send the money. She stopped sending them right around Anna's birthday."

"Which was... Wait. What's her D.O.B.?"

"April 29th, 1983." At this point, Denny's lawyering instincts kicked in. He began scrutinizing Red's reactions. Something was off. It seemed he was seeking confirmation about something. Denny wondered if he was getting it.

Red's eyes briefly widened on their own accord, belying his investment in the story.

Denny continued, "After six months of not getting any pictures, I got the help of one of the firm's contracted P.I. guys. It turns out that they had moved since I received that last photograph. Either she decided not to send one, or she never got a chance. The last sighting of her mother was at a methadone clinic. It was '89."

Red's breath hitched and he sat up straight.

"For awhile, I worried that I didn't even have a daughter, and that I'd been tricked into funding that woman's drug habit. She could have just borrowed or kidnapped a baby for me to meet that day. That would explain why she refused to allow me to see her again."

Red leaned back again, rubbing his hand over his closely-shorn hair.

"When my P.I. found their last address, he learned that the house had been torched, and supposedly a man and his daughter may have perished in the flames. It was arson. The powerful accelerent used would have been enough to fully obliterate a human being. It was unknown whether or not they were home when the fire started. However, because they just disappeared without a trace, they're presumed to have died."

Red chewed his inner cheeks nervously. Denny recognized the tell but kept going anyhow.

"Therefore, there was no death certificate. He interviewed the neighbors to gleam information about where they could/may/wanted to go, and if they had any known aliases. It was essentially fruitless. They were only known for being the quiet types. They kept to themselves. And SO, the trail ran cold. The P.I. got nothing. No obituary, even. She just... disappeared."

Finally, Red spoke. "Denny, I'm not trying to undermine your feelings with what I'm about to say. Let me make that clear. Do you understand?"

Denny cautiously nodded.

"May I see a picture of her? Do you carry one with you?"

Denny reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a picture, and slid it across the table to Red.

It was a picture of Lizzie on a swing set, and Red had killed the man pushing her.

Red could only gasp.

I struggled quite a bit with this chapter. All of these dialogs are difficult to pepper with eloquence or imagery, but that doesn't stop me from trying. I hope it isn't coming off as contrived. Please let me know what you think! Xxxxx