Page 86 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection

“Uncle Max? You’z named after him?”

Smiling, thinking of how he called me “son” and “junior” and teased the racist assholes who looked from him to me and back again in disbelief, I say, “No, but I wish I had been. He was a good man. Better than a dad. He was my best friend and teacher and ass-kicker and priest. He believed in me. Who believes in you, baby?”

She wiggles her mouth back and forth. “No one.”

“Not true. Who believes in you?”

“Papa, a little. He says my work good when I apply myself.”

“Whoelsebelieves in you?”

She hides her eyes behind her elbow, then peeps back out. “Oppa?”

“Oppa believes in you.”

She beams and snuggles in. “Three things you love.”

“Forehead kisses.” I give her one. “Hearing you call me ‘Oppa.’ Seeing you in your special, bumble-bee onesie. So fucking cute.”

“All me things.”

“All you things.” I kiss the tip of her nose. “I love how good it feels to have you here, baby. I know you have to go home in the morning, but I love having you here.”

She squirms closer, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Love being here.”

nineteen

After Cynnie leavesthe next morning, I settle into my rig, slide in through my backdoor, and download the notes the lawyer for Scum, Scummier, and Scummiest has now entered into their client dbase on Rick.

With a raised eyebrow and a vicious grin, I encrypt the “Project Dirty Digger” files and forward them to Logan. That’ll make my buddy’s day. Next, I set the metronome app on my phone and let it tick while I noodle around an idea. The rhythmic tock-tock-tock helps me sink deep into my thoughts. I want a way to communicate with Cynnie all the time. So she constantly feels her Oppa’s support and protection, and I constantly know how my little is doing. I sketch out the framework for an app and fire off an email to Squid, then I turn off the metronome, post UncleM4xx’s daily security tip, and focus on my homework.

Lindy’s uploaded an “extra credit” assignment to the class’s digital whiteboard. I don’t need the extra credit, but the lines of code he’s posted intrigue me. I spend a happy hour playing around with different solutions.

My mind’s always made strange connections. Things that seem unrelated to anyone but me. Reading through Lindy’scode sparks a memory. There’s a certain, spare elegance to the expressions and their order. I’ve seen it before.

I scratch my head. I’m probably remembering something Lindy’s published. I’ll have to give him shit about his self-plagiarism.

With fifteen minutes to spare, I toss a change of clothes and a towel into my backpack along with my school things. I shoot Mac a text to let him know I’m setting off to Logan’s.

Mac: Sorry. Family emergency. Catch up with you next week.

I frown at the phone as I walk towards Logan’s. That better not be Mac’s bitch of an ex making trouble for him. I thought he’d finally disentangled himself from her. I hacked into the courthouse database and pushed their divorce application up the docket so the usual three-month delay was only one month.

If I have to meddle again, I will.

Logan’s waiting for me when I get to his townhouse, even though I’m a few minutes early. He leads me straight through to the basement door. There are still a few blankets remaining from what I can see was the Taj Mahal of blanket forts. I don’t say anything until Logan’s closed the door behind us and we’re heading down the stairs.

“Mac’s had a family emergency. Is Emmy still in the fort?”

“Uh-huh,” Logan says. “She’s napping. Yesterday was intense for her, and I gave her a big reward this morning. I doubt she’ll wake while we’re lifting. Mac still having trouble with his ex?”

“He didn’t say, but I’d guess so.”

“Could be his daughter.” Logan sighs. “She’s been at Queens for a couple of weeks.”

“I thought she’d kicked the uppers,” I say, referring to Mac’s daughter’s addiction. His ex-wife got their daughter hooked on diet pills when she was still in middle school and she’s been on and off uppers ever since. Fucking crime. The kid’s scary bright.She’s studying to being a physicist. The next Stephen Hawking, the way Mac tells it.

“I’m not sure you ever really kick that kind of addiction,” Logan says. “Taking drugs like that, so young, it rewires your brain.”