Characters in If It Bleeds

From the ice storm early this month. It hasn’t been fixed yet.” She can see he doesn’t believe that, but it happens to be the truth. Al Jordan, the building super, is a lazybones who should have been fired (in Holly’s humble opinion, and Pete’s) long since.

“Yes, Andrea, we all pitched in. Townspeople, some of them parents. Also Alison Greer and Tim Witchick from KDKA, Donna Forbes from WPCW, and Bill Larson from—” “Yes, but I’m hearing you pulled two children from the ruins yourself, Chet.”

She’s starting to believe she may have to send it to him, after all. 2 Although Allie Winters is Holly’s regular therapist, and has been for years, Holly did some research and sought out Carl Morton after she returned from her dark adventures in Oklahoma and Texas.

Blood? Holly thinks it is. And the streak on his cheek, that’s blood, too. “Chet?” Andrea Mitchell’s disembodied voice. “Are you there?” The hand not holding the mike goes to his earpiece, and Holly sees there are Band-Aids on two of the fingers. “Yes, I’m here.”

With one eye on the clock, she writes a starchy email to Andrew Edwards, a client who was worried that his partner was trying to hide business assets. Turns out the partner wasn’t, but Finders did the work and needs to be paid.

They’d say Oh yes, there’s a resemblance, just as there’s a resemblance between Mr. Bell and his grandson, or between John Lennon and his son Julian, or between me and Aunt Elizabeth. They’d say I bet it’s Chet Ondowsky’s grandfather.

“Civil, Judge,” Georgie the bailiff says. “The plaintiff is Mrs. Rhoda Daniels. The defendant is her ex-husband, Richard Daniels. At issue is custody of the family dog, Bad Boy.” “A dog case,” Pete says. “Right up our alley.” Judge Law leans on his gavel, which is extra-long.

Townspeople, some of them parents. Also Alison Greer and Tim Witchick from KDKA, Donna Forbes from WPCW, and Bill Larson from—” “Yes, but I’m hearing you pulled two children from the ruins yourself, Chet.” He doesn’t bother looking falsely modest and aw-shucks; Holly awards him points for that.

She opens her laptop on the room’s chintzy excuse for a desk and finds the email from Brad Bell she was expecting. Attached is what you requested. Please use the materials wisely, and please keep us out of it. We have done what we can. Well, Holly thinks, not quite.

There’s nothing on it but a name and a number. Barbara takes it and reads it. “Who’s Carl Morton?” “A therapist I saw after I came back from Texas. I only saw him twice. That was all the time I needed to tell my story.” “Which was what?

She’s done in fifteen minutes. She turns on her phone once she’s in the corridor, and sees she’s missed a call from Dan Bell. But it isn’t Dan who answers when she calls back; it’s the grandson. “Grampa had a heart attack,” Brad says. “Another heart attack.

“My son and daughter both do,” she says, and grabs Ondowsky’s arm. “Are they okay? Do you know that, sir? Irene and David Vernon. David’s in the seventh grade. Irene’s in the ninth. We call Irene Deenie. Do you know if they are okay?” “I don’t, Mrs. Vernon,” Ondowsky says.

It’s not, but she has. Tom Toomey, who owns the dealership, is pretty sure one of his salesmen—Dick Ellis, a star performer—has been under-reporting his accounts, possibly to provide for a little dolly he’s seeing on the side, possibly to support a drug habit. (“He sniffs a lot,” Toomey said.

“Yes, Andrea, we all pitched in. Townspeople, some of them parents. Also Alison Greer and Tim Witchick from KDKA, Donna Forbes from WPCW, and Bill Larson from—” “Yes, but I’m hearing you pulled two children from the ruins yourself, Chet.”

Sorry. Let’s see if I can keep this in order. In 2018 and 2019, Dr. Joel Lieberman was seeing a patient living in Portland, Maine. This patient took the Downeaster—I assume that’s a train—to keep his once-monthly appointments in Boston.

… to focus on either Charles “Chet” Ondowsky, the reporter from WPEN who was first on the scene, or Fred Finkel, his cameraman. Barbara thinks it’s almost certainly Ondowsky Holly is interested in, because there are more searches for him. Holly has even jotted his name on the pad beside her …

“All rise!” George the bailiff cries. The spectators get up, still clapping and swaying, as Judge John Law comes out of his chambers.

Ladies, can you tell me what you saw? Miss Dyson?” “Shots... blood... there was blood from the back of his poor head...” Greta Dyson is weeping so hard she can barely be understood, which Holly supposes is sort of the point.

Mrs. Keller nods. “That’s the last day of school before the Christmas break. God, I hope Griswold’s kids sent them something.” “What kind of presents do Scottish kids send American kids, do you think?” She laughs. “I just hope it’s not haggis.” “What’s that? More Latin?”

“With us for what?” Henry asks, looking around. “I have to go to work soon. The paperwork is all messed up. That Hellman is worse than useless.” “Do you have his things?” Mrs. Braddock asks Charlotte. “Yes,” Charlotte says, still smiling and biting her lip. Soon she may be crying.

“Is it about Uncle Henry?” he asks. “Are you chasing down some kind of treatment option? That’s what Pete thinks.” “No, not Uncle Henry.” Another old man, she thinks. One who might or might not turn out to be compos mentis. “Jerome, I really can’t talk about this.” “Okay.

“I’m sure you do, but you’d be looking for Pete, not drinking beer. See if he needs any help with a bail-jumper named Herbert Rattner. Rattner’s white, about fifty . . .” “Neck tattoo of a hawk or something,” Jerome says. “Saw the photo on the bulletin board, Hollyberry.”

“My son and daughter both do,” she says, and grabs Ondowsky’s arm. “Are they okay? Do you know that, sir? Irene and David Vernon. David’s in the seventh grade. Irene’s in the ninth. We call Irene Deenie. Do you know if they are okay?” “I don’t, Mrs. Vernon,” Ondowsky says.

I’m here with Greta Dyson, Monica Kellogg, and Juanita Alvarez, Kennedy supporters who were right here where I’m standing when the shots were fired. Ladies, can you tell me what you saw? Miss Dyson?”

“Back at the ohhhh-ld swimmin hole.” He laughs as people do when they are remembering days of yore. Charlotte rolls her eyes. “I was sixteen, and I believe Julia was . . .” He trails off. “Let me see your arm,” Charlotte commands. Uncle Henry cocks his head. “My arm?

She says, “Hey Justin. I wonder if you could help me with something?” And takes her phone out of her pocket. 2 While Justin Freilander is examining Barbara’s phone (which is still, oh God, warm from being in her back pocket), Holly is landing at Pittsburgh International.

This is followed by Lester Holt, and Holly knows right away it’s going to be serious. Lester Holt is the network’s big gun. Not another 9/11, she thinks every time something like this happens. Please God, not another 9/11 and not nuclear.

Pete usually goes after the kids, and when Jerome’s working, he’s great with the dogs. She’s not surprised that Lucky’s death hit him so hard, not just because it was so extraordinarily cruel but because the Robinson family lost their beloved Odell to congestive heart failure the year before.

It seems like a long time ago and it seems like no time at all. I was still on radio cars then. Marcel Duchamp and I were parked just off Marginal Way, behind a snowbank and waiting for speeders, not very likely on a weekday morning. Eating crullers, drinking coffee.

“This isn’t exactly a consumer complaint,” she says, “but it is about consuming. Will you tell him that, please?” “Ma’am?” Monica is clearly puzzled. “I need to speak to him tonight, and before nine P.M. Tell him it concerns Paul Freeman and the plane crash. Have you got that?”

I’m here with Greta Dyson, Monica Kellogg, and Juanita Alvarez, Kennedy supporters who were right here where I’m standing when the shots were fired. Ladies, can you tell me what you saw? Miss Dyson?”

Mrs. Althea Keller, the only person who actually spoke to the delivery guy/bomber, has regained consciousness, but she had little to add, other than the fact that the package purported to be from a …

… until Mrs. Braddock comes on. Holly thinks it’s music to commit suicide by. “Ms. Gibney!” Mrs. Braddock says. “Is it too early to wish you happy holidays?” “Not at all. Thank you. Mrs. Braddock, my mother called and said my uncle has had an accident.” Mrs. Braddock laughs. “Saved one, …

A wisp of an old lady in a green housecoat is bent over a huge jigsaw puzzle. “That’s Mrs. Hatfield,” Uncle Henry says. “I don’t recall her first name.” “Mrs. Braddock says you saved her from a bad fall,” Holly says. “No, that was Julia,” Uncle Henry says.

“Civil, Judge,” Georgie the bailiff says. “The plaintiff is Mrs. Rhoda Daniels. The defendant is her ex-husband, Richard Daniels. At issue is custody of the family dog, Bad Boy.” “A dog case,” Pete says. “Right up our alley.”

David’s in the seventh grade. Irene’s in the ninth. We call Irene Deenie. Do you know if they are okay?” “I don’t, Mrs. Vernon,” Ondowsky says. “I think you should talk to one of the deputies, over where they’re setting up those sawhorses.” “Thank you, sir, thank you.

A girl and a boy. I know the boy’s name, Norman Fredericks. The girl . . .” He wets his lips. The mike in his hand trembles, and Holly thinks not just from the cold. “The girl was in bad shape. She was . . . calling for her mother.”

“You too, Freddy.” No kiss for the young man though, just a quick pat on the shoulder. “I’ll rescue you anytime, Peggy,” Ondowsky says, drawing laughter and more applause. That’s where the clip ends. Holly watches some more clips, choosing at random.

“Civil, Judge,” Georgie the bailiff says. “The plaintiff is Mrs. Rhoda Daniels. The defendant is her ex-husband, Richard Daniels. At issue is custody of the family dog, Bad Boy.” “A dog case,” Pete says. “Right up our alley.” Judge Law leans on his gavel, which is extra-long.

It was just Hannigan, just George, and he could have been right in the room with us. “What was it like in there, Rodney? And how did you escape?” Brad played it for me three times.

Your uncle was walking with Mrs. Hatfield, who is eighty-two and rather unsteady. Anyway, she tripped and might have taken quite a bad fall, only Henry grabbed her. Sarah Whitlock—she’s one of our nurses’ aides—said he reacted very quickly. ‘Like lightning’ were her actual words.

“You heard it, self-identified ‘pain doctor’ Stefan Muller refusing to answer questions and telling us to go away. We did, but we’ll keep coming back and asking questions until we get some answers. This is Chet Ondowsky, in Sewickley.

“Yes, Andrea, we all pitched in. Townspeople, some of them parents. Also Alison Greer and Tim Witchick from KDKA, Donna Forbes from WPCW, and Bill Larson from—” “Yes, but I’m hearing you pulled two children from the ruins yourself, Chet.”

Her phone is now in her handbag. She takes it out, calls Tom Toomey, and asks if it’s too late for her to come by the dealership and look at some figures. Maybe have a peek at the suspected salesman’s computer? “Absolutely,” Toomey tells her.