by Tim O'Mara
The ride was made more enjoyable because Edgar had treated himself to a new car right after he retired from his city job. He had figured out how to write it off on his taxes as a ‘company vehicle’ and had spared little expense. Of course, he had an amazing audio system – which now was being under-utilized since Lisa was napping in the back. It also had the latest in GPS technology, hands-free cell phone/blue tooth capability, and mobile WiFi. If Bill Gates has a weekend car, I’m sure it’s something like this.
As we took the New Paltz exit, I was reminded of my student Frankie who had taken his kid sister up here some years ago to hide them both from his father’s killers. Frankie’s father was the first dead body I’d come across after leaving the NYPD. I had helped track the kids down, but as was often the case back then, I was about a day late and two dollars short. It all worked out in the end, though. Except for a couple of more dead guys.
We took the only road through the college town, turned north onto Route 32, and Edgar said, ‘It’s going to be about nine more minutes. You hungry?’
‘I’m good,’ I said. ‘We’ll see how Lisa feels when she wakes up.’ I looked at the digital clock on the dashboard. It was eleven-thirteen. ‘Memorial starts at one, so we can eat if she has to.’
‘It’s nice of Newer Leaves to do this for MoJo,’ Edgar said. ‘It would mean a lot to him the way he went on about this place.’
I agreed; Lisa had half of MoJo’s ashes in her bag. She had made bread dough and rolled the ashes into it in order to feed the fish in the lake on the grounds of Newer Leaves. It was a Chinese tradition that she had read about years ago. The other half of the ashes had already helped feed some of the bass and sunfish in the East River, not far from their apartment.
‘Oh, my God,’ Lisa said suddenly. ‘Please tell me I was not dreaming and that that sign back there said barbecue.’
Edgar punched some buttons on his GPS. ‘Yessiree Bob. You want me to—’
‘Don’t even ask, Edgar,’ she groaned. ‘I’ve been craving barbecue for the past few days but was just too …’ Her thoughts drifted off. ‘Just let’s go.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Edgar said. ‘You up for some barbecue, Ray?’
‘Edgar,’ I said. ‘Has anyone ever answered “No” to that question?’
About an hour later, we were back in the car with at least one answer from today’s trip: a seven-month-pregnant woman could definitely eat a pulled pork sandwich, a half-rack of baby-back ribs, and a half-pint of coleslaw. Edgar and I did pretty well ourselves, but Lisa had to be helped into the backseat of the car.
‘Let’s just sit for a while,’ she said. ‘I need a little while before I even think about going anywhere.’
We rolled down the windows – the temp was pushing eighty now – and waited for Lisa to give us the go-ahead. We had about a half-hour before the memorial started. I used some of the time to step out of the car and call Allison.
‘Hey, tough guy. How’s that fresh Hudson Valley air treating ya?’
‘Pretty good.’ I told her about lunch and how we should come up here sometime – just the two of us. ‘I know how much you like hiking.’
‘About as much as you like paperwork. Give me a porch swing and some boat drinks and I’ll be fine.’
‘You still going to the crime scene?’
‘Yes. And now that they’re done collecting evidence, I was able to persuade Royce to give me half an hour instead of ten minutes.’
‘How’d you do that?’
‘I reminded him that my boyfriend had given him a pretty strong piece of evidence in the case and since they had already processed the crime scene, it wouldn’t interfere with an active investigation. And I think his day was kinda slow.’
She continued. ‘I still wish I’d gone up today with you, but I promised my partners I’d visit a few of the new brunch places on the Upper West Side for the website. Which is another reason I want to go to the crime scene. If nothing else breaks, I’ll have to move MoJo to the back burner. At least today I can keep the story moving forward.’
‘Royce say anything else about the apartments? Anything else about the guy Gator ran into? The Unabomber guy?’
‘Not much, they canvassed the whole building and came up with nothing. But I had the feeling he was holding something back.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like something that would stop me from putting MoJo on the back burner.’ She paused. ‘Speaking of which, I’m supposed to meet Royce in about an hour, so …’
I could hear the sound of her fingers skipping across the keys of her laptop. I did not have her full attention.
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘What makes you think I’m going to do anything, Ray?’
‘Because I know you, and I know how you get when you think you know there’s an answer out there waiting to be found.’
‘An answer to what?’
‘I don’t know, but I’m sure you’ll find that, too.’
‘You getting all philosophical on me again, Ray? Been reading Jean-Paul Sartre behind my back? It sounds like you’re telling me I’m gonna find the answer before I even know what the question is.’
‘If anyone can, Allie, it’s you. I’ll see you at home sometime around six or seven depending on how the traffic is into the city.’
‘Maybe you can bring back some of that barbecue on the way home?’
‘That might work.’
‘Make it work, Raymond. You’ve got my mouth watering.’ She waited a beat and added, ‘Before you think too much of yourself, I’m talking about the food.’
‘Never a doubt in my mind what you were talking about, Allie. Love you.’
‘I love you, too, Ray. Tell Edgar I said to drive carefully.’
‘Will do.’
‘Oh,’ she added. ‘Bring me back some literature from Newer Leaves. I’m thinking of doing a piece on the whole opioid crisis: from users, to where they get their drugs, to the justice system and rehab.’
‘I’ll see what I can pick up.’
When I got back in the car, Edgar asked, ‘What’d Allison say?’
‘Told me to tell you to drive carefully.’
He mumbled something, Lisa mumbled something, and we were off. Five minutes later, we were pulling into a long driveway that lead up to a huge white house that could only be described as a mansion. This was rehab?
‘Is this where the president lives?’ I joked. Nobody laughed.
‘Welcome to Newer Leaves,’ Lisa said. ‘This is what happens when a wealthy donor with a family history of substance abuse leaves you his house and property in his will.’ She let out a long, yet somehow polite, burp. ‘There are about forty acres and almost as many rooms. At any given time, they might have two-dozen clients residing here. Each resident gets a roommate.’
I had almost forgotten that Lisa was a substance abuse counselor and this was where she and MoJo had met. We were a long way from their apartment in Brooklyn.
‘This was my first full-time job after I got my graduate degree,’ she said. ‘They have a whole floor for the live-in staff. That’s how they get away with paying us so little. They gave us room, meals, and a small stipend. I could’ve moved back home and lived with my folks in Queens and worked for the city, but this was too good to pass up.’
‘How did MoJo end up here?’ I asked.
‘He fit the profile,’ Lisa said. ‘He was a repeat non-violent offender. He passed the interview and the background check. Since he was unmarried, he had no problem signing up for the two years.’
‘Two years,’ I repeated. ‘Damn.’
‘Yep. The first six months, no contact with the outside world. None. No letters, no phone calls, no texts, and definitely no visits.’
‘What about guys with kids?’
‘Same rules for everyone, Ray. You know them when you sign on. If you can’t handle the rules, there are other places to go.’
‘That’s gotta be tough on the kids, though.
How do they handle that?’
‘We counsel the whole family. And not seeing your dad while he’s in recovery is better than seeing your dad drunk and possibly abusive toward you and your mother.’
She had a point. ‘What about after six months?’
‘The residents can receive emails and texts. If that goes well, and the men are working the program, they start earning phone privileges.’
‘When do they get to see their families?’
‘After a year. One monthly visit for three months, then two monthlies for another three months, and then weeklies after that. Those last six months come with family therapy.’ She took a deep breath and let out a long, whispering burp. ‘We don’t just drop them back into the family milieu without lots of preparation. For everyone. Imagine your dad being out of the house for two years and then he just drops back in.’
I thought about making a joke about how many times I had wished my father would go away for a while, but this was not the time or place for humor.
I looked around as Edgar pulled into the parking lot. There were about ten other cars already there. Half of the cars were pickups.
‘Must cost a fortune to maintain this property,’ I said.
‘That’s another part of what makes this place work, Ray,’ Lisa said. ‘All the residents must have jobs provided by the organization. One of the options is landscaping. Newer Leaves is also the name of the company they run. They do landscaping all through the lower Hudson Valley; the men make a small salary and the rest comes back to the facility. Others do restaurant work and work in the kitchen here. It’s the same with carpentry, plumbing, and electrical work. Everything they do in the outside world comes back here and keeps the place running.’
‘Sounds like a socialist’s dream.’
‘They even have some lawyers and accountants in residence,’ she explained. ‘You know as well as I do that drug abuse doesn’t give a shit what color your collar is.’
‘Interesting way of putting it.’
‘True that. If only the government could get more on board with this type of approach, we’d see a lot fewer of our young men behind bars.’
Edgar mumbled something again. I asked him to repeat it.
‘Too many people make too much money off the prison system,’ he said, more clearly this time. ‘That’s why good people like MoJo end up in jail.’ He put his hands together in front of his mouth as if he’d said too much. ‘Sorry, Lisa.’
‘You’re preaching to the choir, Edgar. Places like Newer Leaves threaten the established way of fighting the “War on Drugs.” The only winners in that war are the prison owners and the politicians in their pockets.’
‘Well,’ Edgar said, ‘I’m glad this place is here.’ He turned to me. ‘This was the first security job MoJo and I did together.’
‘How’d that come about?’
‘After we met at the tech show, he told me about this place and how they were applying for a grant they could only get if they had a properly installed security system.’
He got out of the car and I followed his lead. He opened the back door for Lisa and she was able to get out by herself. We all stretched and looked around.
‘They still have a lot of valuable things inside,’ Edgar went on. ‘Left over from the original owner. Paintings, other artwork, furniture. They figured a place this far away from town was ripe for the picking. The state was also concerned about some of the residents walking off with stuff.’ Edgar pointed to the house. ‘We put in window alarms, door alarms …’ He spun around and pointed to the gate and the surrounding fencing. ‘We also put in some motion detectors along the perimeter and security lighting.’
I again was struck by how much it felt like I was on the set of one of those home shows – real estate porn, I called them – Allison liked to watch on the rare lazy weekend. I was also surprised by something behind the house.
An archery course set-up.
Just as I was making a mental note to tell Royce about this, a man in a seersucker jacket and blue jeans came up to us. No tie, he had his blue shirt collar unbuttoned, his hair and gray beard trimmed short, and a pair of boots that would fit in well in Allison’s hometown in Missouri. It was Eddie Price from the other night.
‘Lisa,’ he said, his arms open wide. ‘We are so glad you have allowed us to celebrate Maurice this way and that you and your friends could make it up all the way from the city.’
He and Lisa exchanged the kind of hug that said, ‘I’m glad to see you, but one of us is pregnant.’ The guy pointed. ‘Edgar, right?’
He nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Nice to see you again, Mr Price.’
‘Eddie. And you, Edgar.’ They shook hands. Mr Price looked at me and said, ‘Nice to see you again, Mr Donne.’ Without all the noise from the bar, I placed his accent somewhere just east or west of the Mississippi River. I also thought I recognized his voice from somewhere.
‘Lisa said she was bringing Maurice’s sponsor from the school, so I checked the name on the paperwork. I also googled you. I didn’t know who you were the other night. I can see why he wanted your help with the community service. Thank you for helping Maurice back into society.’
‘He’s been more than worth it, Mr Price, believe me.’ I caught myself using the present tense. I didn’t bother correcting myself.
‘Please,’ he said. ‘Everyone calls me Eddie.’ Eddie looked over his shoulder, back at the house, and then at his watch. ‘We should probably go in now. We’d like to get started at one o’clock sharp.’ He turned to Lisa. ‘No offense, but some of our guys are due back at work and … well, you know how some of our employers can be.’
‘I do, Eddie,’ Lisa said. ‘Thank you again for all of this.’
‘You and Maurice are family, Lisa. You know that. This is the least we could do for you both.’ To all of us, he said, ‘Please, follow me.’
As we made our way toward the house, no one else seemed to pay any attention to the archery set-up in the back. Maybe it was just my mind going places it shouldn’t be, but with the exception of last Thursday, I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen anything involving archery. Now two times in less than a week?
Lisa grabbed my hand. ‘They’re very strict on the schedule around here. Eddie likes to say, “Structure is the key.” If he says something starts at one o’clock, it starts at one o’clock. Any break in the schedule can be an excuse for abuse.’
‘Self-help tips that rhyme,’ I said. ‘My favorite.’
‘He’s right, though. One of the things that keeps Newer Leaves running so smoothly is the tight schedule. Wake-up’s at seven thirty. Breakfast at eight. You’re out the door or working your shift on-site at nine. If you’re currently between jobs or assignments, you’re in one group session or another. Most substance abusers don’t have schedules while they’re actively using. That’s one of the first things they learn here.’
‘What about those who don’t learn it?’
‘They’re given more training and workshops. If they can’t get with the program in six months, we – Newer Leaves – have to make room for someone else.’ We made our way to the front door, which was being held open by Eddie. ‘You can’t imagine the waiting list for this place, Ray.’
I took one more look around while Edgar and Lisa stepped inside. Yeah, I thought. I think I can.
TWENTY
At exactly one o’clock, Eddie Price stepped up to the podium, which was set up on a multi-purpose stage. The room we were in probably hosted many parties back in the day. There were tall windows with heavy shades, shiny wooden floors, and lights hanging from the ceiling that may have cost close to what Edgar had paid for his car. If I breathed in deeply enough would I smell the ghosts of rich people past? Eddie welcomed us all, thanked everyone for coming and for being prompt. That last part brought a smattering of chuckles. He mentioned the weather, how springtime always brought with it a sense of renewal, and how we shouldn’t look at today as a day to console one another o
ver the loss of Maurice Joseph but as an opportunity to celebrate his life and successes.
The way he said Maurice’s name finally put the pieces together for me as to how I recognized Eddie Price. He was the guy MoJo had been recording – accidentally or on purpose – with his spy pen. Now I was thinking it must have been an accident. Why would MoJo be secretly recording the guy who ran the place that was helping him put his life back together?
Eddie Price finished up and a couple of residents spoke about MoJo and his positive influence on them. Then Eddie asked Lisa to come up to the microphone. I don’t usually think of pregnant women as walking with grace and poise, but Lisa Joseph did just that.
‘It is not an exaggeration,’ she said when she got to the mic, ‘to say that Newer Leaves gave Maurice his life back. And, you all’ – she took the whole assembly in by holding up the palms of both hands – ‘played a big part in that. Not only in giving him another chance, but in giving us a chance.’ She placed her palms on her belly. ‘And you can see how that worked out.’ Polite, slightly awkward laughter came from the crowd.
‘I look out at you all,’ she continued, ‘and I’m glad to see many familiar faces, but just as importantly, many who are not familiar. Those who I do know understand how much work it takes to start again, as many of you have. Maurice and I were – and are – very proud of you.’ She paused to take a breath and look up to the ceiling. ‘Those who are newer here and never had the pleasure of meeting Maurice, please heed the message my husband’s life represented: Working works. Passion works. Love works.’ She put both hands on her stomach. ‘We all thank you.’
Everyone applauded and Lisa was helped off the stage, back to her seat by Eddie Price. Eddie asked Edgar if he’d like to go up and say a few words as Maurice’s business partner and Edgar shook his head. Edgar and public speaking were not compatible yet. Eddie went back up to the podium.