Shoot the Moon

Chapter One - Mickey Dolan Rings a Bell

The phone rang and I dropped the book and picked up.

A voice shouted in my ear, "Who's this? I forgot who I'm calling."

"Who are you?" I said.

"You tell me. I'm not sure of that, either."

"This is fun. You want to try to make a conversation out of this?"

"Murphy? Is that you? This is Mickey."

The worst possible news. I pretended to search my memory. "Mickey..."

"Mickey Dolan. Come on, bro, it's only been a few years."

"Mickey. Dolan." Exactly not the thing I needed at that ticklish point in my life.

"Dolan," he shouted, "Mickey Dolan. You are asleep." In the background, I heard men screaming. For blood or a field goal, I don't know which.

"What's up, Mickey?"

"Sorry I woke you," he said.

"You didn't. I was reading."

Another roar went up. Mickey was shouting into the phone. I could hear rock and roll.

"Where are you, Mickey? In a bar?"

"Can't hear you too good, brother. I'm at a sporting event... Sort of."

"Mickey," I shouted back, "How drunk are you?"

"Not drunk, exactly. But somebody gave me a cap...sule a couple of hours ago. I'm okay. But. Mouth's. A lit...tle dry. Know what I mean?"

"Great." I said.

"Murphy, can you meet me tonight? I need your help. I think I'm in a lot of trouble."

I looked at my watch. It was a beautiful Patek Philippe that Echo had given me when we got married, when she was still sure she loved me. It belonged to her grandfather. The time was nine o'clock.

"Where are you?" I said.

"We can't talk here. Besides, I'm having a lit...tle trouble focusing at the moment. Can't really talk now at all. It's not that kind of medication."

"Suits me, Mickey, I don't want to get mixed up with you again anyway."

"Is that a way to be? We're old friends. And, doctor, you owe me. Not that I like bringing it up - "

"Don't. All right. I have to meet Echo at eleven. Can you come to Joe Allen's at ten?"

"Where's that? Do I know this Echo person? "

"Forty-Sixth Street. Echo Dalton. Yeah, you've met her."

"Tall skinny chick with buck teeth?"

"No. Echo. She's my wife."

"Huh. Do I like her?"

"It was hard to tell. She hates you."

"Why?"

"When you weren't incoherent you were incontinent."

"Well," he said, "I'll be extra charming tonight."

"And I'm sure I'd love to see that. However, you will be gone by the time she arrives. Understand? My marriage is in enough trouble without adding you to the mix."

"I knew it. Echo and I don't get along. What did I do?"

"It's not personal. She hates all psychotic drug addicts."

"Okay, it'll be our little secret, doctor. Joe Allen's - Hey - This the little place on Eighth avenue with the toilet - you have to vomit standing up? There's no place to put your feet?"