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Guten Morgen, Sol. Hey, how’s this for prompt? Not even eight thirty,” Ortiz said, cat-walking in and then spinning around to stare back at the street. “Man, it’s a funny day outside,” he said with a sudden change of tone. ” Sol looked up at him. He felt the strange sensation of having his thoughts pried into. But the ivory-dark face was bland and innocent, admitted to no trespassing. “Well, it give me a chance to catch up some more on them suits. I was talking to that George Smith, you know, that kook comes in here to talk to you sometimes.

Hey, that’s a good idea, subsidize. Sponsor us. Like they use to do in Italy durin’ the Renaissance. The Medici, you know. indd 23 7/1/15 3:34 PM e d wa r d l e w i s wa l l a n t was patrons to the artists, Michelangelo, da Vinci. Hey, how about that. Why not us, too! The hell, Uncle, we’re artists, too, ain’t we? ” The dehumanized, mirthless chuckle sounded again. “Okay, okay, partner, I’ll talk to you in a day or so. You take care of that little matter then. ” He looked up from the phone to see Ortiz studying the engraved plaque under Daniel Webster’s bust.

But her son, Morton, was vulnerable to her irritation. indd 28 7/1/15 3:34 PM t h e paw n b r o k e r were two of a kind, both sullen, unattractive creatures who dampened her “Happy American Family” setting. Oh, she supposed it wasn’t Sol’s fault that he had gone through what he had. But it had been a prison, and the degradation and filth had rubbed off on him. God knew what had so soiled Morton! When they all sat down to dinner, Bertha unhappily compared Morton and Sol with her husband and her daughter.