by Mary Daheim
“They had to shop for groceries,” Judith pointed out. “Didn’t anyone ever see them coming in or out?”
Mrs. Harmon smiled sadly. “Maybe the old-timers did. But most of them are gone now, in retirement or nursing homes—or passed away. The neighborhood has changed a great deal in fifty years.”
“Except for the Blands,” Renie said.
“Isn’t that the truth?” Mrs. Harmon sighed. “I didn’t hear all of the gossip, of course. You must remember, I’m several blocks away. And if I’d seen them at the grocery store, I wouldn’t have recognized them.”
Judith started to rise from the sofa. It was very deep and very comfortable, but not easy to get out of with hip problems. “Do you know anyone near the Bland house who has been around for the past fifty years?”
“Oh, dear—let me see.” Mrs. Harmon also rose as Renie gave Judith a shove. “Yes, Mrs. Bruce. Elsie Bruce. She must be almost ninety and is very crippled with arthritis. She has help, or she couldn’t stay in her own home. And believe me, Elsie isn’t going anywhere else until they take her to the mortuary.”
“Do you know her address?” Judith inquired.
“I can look it up.” Mrs. Harmon bent down to reach into a shelf on the end table. “Let me think—Elsie’s husband has been dead for years, but his name was Elmer,” she said, flipping through the White Pages. “I imagine she’s kept the listing that way. Elsie’s not one for change. Yes, here it is—Elmer Bruce, twenty-oh-nine. Do you want the number?”
Renie got out her notebook. “That’d be great.”
Mrs. Harmon recited the phone number, but added a caution. “She’s very deaf. We both attended the Presbyterian church, but she can’t go to services anymore. She hasn’t, for close to ten years, but she was deaf even then.”
Offering their profuse thanks, the cousins made their exit. Behind the wheel of the MG, Judith cogitated. “Uncle Al or Mrs. Bruce?” She grimaced. “Uncle Al, for now. But we won’t stay long.”
Their visit was shorter than they’d expected. No one was home at Uncle Al’s, and Mike’s Range Rover was nowhere in sight.
“I’ll bet they went out for lunch,” Judith said.
Renie suddenly looked wistful. “Speaking of which, I’m kind of hungry.”
Judith frowned at her cousin. “Since when are you not?” Renie was one of those annoying people whose metabolism allowed her to eat like a pig and never gain weight. “We’ll pick up burgers and fries at Doc’s Drive-in. I’d like to call on Mrs. Bruce before I head home to get ready for tonight’s guests.”
“I want a vanilla shake, too,” Renie said, pouting just a bit. “Maybe two hamburgers.”
“Fine, but don’t you dare trash Joe’s car,” Judith warned.
It was still the lunch hour when the cousins pulled into the drive-in that had been a landmark for almost fifty years in Langford. The lines were long.
“Let me do this,” Renie said. “What do you want?”
“A plain burger and fries,” Judith replied.
“Okay. Keep the motor running and watch this.”
Renie got out of the car, walked toward the busy windows, and held up both hands. “Free Megabucks tickets across the street! Five minutes only! Don’t miss out!”
All but three people turned to look at the convenience store across Langford’s busy main artery. Sure enough, there was a partly visible banner over the store’s entrance that read Free Mega…The mob took off like a shot, practically falling all over themselves to get to the crosswalk at the corner. Renie scooted up to the nearest vacant window and put in her order.
“Are they really handing out free Megabucks lottery tickets at the convenience store?” the teenage boy with purple hair asked Renie after he’d called out her request.
Renie turned around. The customers who had raced off were all standing at the corner, frantically pushing the “Walk” button on the traffic control post.
“Hunh,” she said to the young man. “I guess I made a mistake. It says ‘Free Megaphones.’ I think I heard about that. It’s a promotion for the baseball team.”
Doc’s fast food was really fast, one of the reasons the drive-in had prospered for almost half a century. Renie’s order was up just as the light finally changed and the crowd started racing across the street.
“Thanks,” she said, and ran back to the car. “Hit it,” she ordered Judith.
After a brief glitch trying to shift into reverse, Judith sped out of the parking lot and down the side street. In the rearview mirror, she could see the now-irate customers storming around in front of the convenience store.
“Ah,” Renie said complacently. “Food. Pull over when we get around the corner. We want to eat this while it’s hot. Otherwise, the fries go limp.”
“What,” Judith asked as she found a parking place under a big maple tree, “would you have done if they hadn’t fallen for your ruse?”
Renie paid no heed to the lettuce that had dropped onto her faded tee. “I suppose I’d have had to stand in line with the rest of the suckers. By the way, did you notice one of the three people who didn’t rush off?”
Judith shook her head. “I was too busy watching the ones who did—and you.”
Renie giggled, causing her to spew out a couple of diced onions. “Morty the Mailman. He was reading somebody’s Sports Illustrated while he was in line.”
“Morty,” Judith murmured, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. “I wish he’d been more helpful.”
“I wish he’d retired,” Renie said, sprinkling salt on her fries. “Like forty years ago.”
“Still…” Judith let the sentence trail off. Morty hadn’t been on the Moonfleet route for all that long. Maybe he honestly didn’t have any information. He certainly wasn’t the curious type.
“I’m done,” Judith declared, wiping off her hands with a paper napkin. “You can finish my fries, along with the rest of your large quantity of food. We have to get going.”
The cousins were only about six blocks from Mrs. Bruce’s house, but they took a longer route to ensure that nobody coming from the drive-in would see them. Joe’s MG was too easily identifiable. Judith had visions of a wild-eyed mob descending upon them and wreaking havoc with the car. And with the cousins.
Twenty-oh-nine Moonfleet was on the southwest corner, across the street from the Bland house. Elsie Bruce’s home was a modest brick Tudor, showing signs of genteel neglect.
A plump, pretty Hispanic woman with a dish towel over her arm came to the door. “Hola, señoras.”
“Is Mrs. Bruce at home?” Judith asked.
“Sí,” the woman replied but didn’t budge.
“May we talk to her?” Judith inquired. “I’m Mrs. Flynn and this is Mrs. Jones.”
“Sí,” the woman repeated, and still made no move.
Renie cranked up her rusty Spanish. “Donde está Señora Bruce?”
“Aquí,” the woman said, stepping aside and pointing to a sitting room just off the hall.
“Gracias,” Renie responded as the cousins entered the small, cluttered room where a TV was tuned into one of the shopping channels.
“Hello,” Judith said in her friendliest voice.
Mrs. Bruce, who was small and wizened, didn’t move. There was no sound coming from the TV set. Noticing the old lady’s hearing aids and remembering that Mrs. Harmon had said Elsie was deaf, Judith raised her voice several notches.
“Hallooo!”
Elsie turned slowly. She straightened her glasses and adjusted the afghan on her lap. “What?”
Judith moved to stand in front of Elsie and leaned down so that their faces were practically touching. “I’m Judith.” She pointed to Renie. “This is my cousin, Serena.”
Elsie made a shooing gesture with one of her hands. “I can’t see the TV,” she declared in an irritable voice. “I want that ruby ring. Teresa, write that down.” Elsie tried to peer around the cousins. “Where’s Teresa? I want that ruby!”
“Aquí, se�
�ora,” Teresa said, moving into Elsie’s range of vision.
“The ring, Teresa! Call them! Act now!” The old lady pointed to an 800 number at the bottom of the screen. “Hurry up! They may sell out.”
“Sí, señora,” Teresa replied, and hurried out of the room.
“Stupid girl,” Elsie muttered. “She’ll get it all mixed up, as usual. She can hardly speak a word of English. Ah!” She pointed again at the screen. “Pearls! I adore pearls! Take down that number.”
“It’s the same one,” Renie pointed out, all but shouting. “Shall I tell Teresa to order the pearls, too?”
“Yes, be quick.” She dismissed Renie with a wave of her hand.
Fortuitously, the channel went to a commercial break. “I’d like to ask you some questions about your neighbors the Blands,” Judith said, pulling up an ancient armless rocker next to Elsie’s chair.
“Bands? What bands?” Elsie looked mystified.
“Blands,” Judith said loudly.
Elsie merely stared at Judith. “You’re mumbling,” she finally said.
“I can’t keep screaming at you,” Judith asserted. She pointed to Elsie’s hearing aids. “Are they turned on?”
“What?” Elsie scowled at Judith. She fiddled with the devices. “Hunh. I guess I turned them off. I don’t need to hear when I watch TV. And I don’t need to hear Teresa, either. She won’t speak English. Imagine!” She stared at Judith with filmy blue eyes. “Who are you? An undertaker selling plots? A social worker? A burglar?”
Renie had come back into the room. There were no other chairs, so she leaned against the wall.
“My cousin and I are interested in the Spanish-style house across the street,” Judith said. “Do you know the owners?”
“Those snobs?” Elsie sneered. “No, and I don’t want to. They keep to themselves and that’s fine withme. They drink. The Lord abhors drunkenness. I see the police were there yesterday. I hope they arrested the lot of them. It’s a good thing Arthur’s dead. He was the only decent one in the family.”
“Arthur?” Judith echoed.
“Yes, Arthur, Arthur Craig.” Elsie scowled at Judith. “Are you deaf? Arthur was married to Anna. Died young about fifteen years ago. He couldn’t have been more than thirty.”
“Was it an accident?” Judith inquired.
“So they said,” Elsie replied, her gaze again fixed on the TV screen. “Diamonds! Five carats! Teresa!”
“I’ll tell her,” Renie volunteered with a wink for Judith.
“What kind of accident?” Judith asked after Renie left the room.
“Arthur drowned.” Elsie paused, admiring the twinkling stone on TV.
“A boating mishap?” Judith suggested.
“Ha! Where would Arthur get a boat? He drowned in the fishpond by the house.” Elsie removed her glasses, exhaled on the lenses, and wiped them clean with a handkerchief. “The fishpond’s gone now. The Blands never tended to it, or to much of anything else. That’s why their place is such a wreck. Dirty, too. I’ve seen the exterminator there twice in the past year or so. Rats, if you ask me. And why not? The place is so overgrown, they could have a zoo living behind those big fences. Oh, I know my house is a little run-down, but I do what I can to keep it from falling apart. Those Blands—they never cared.”
“Do you know Arthur’s wife, Anna?” Judith asked.
Elsie wrinkled her nose. “Anna was always a spoiled brat. Fancies herself a fashion plate. She’s some kind of buyer for Nordquist’s. The second time around, she married a man named Philip French. Sinister fellow, if you ask me.”
“What about Lynette?”
“Cold. Distant. Selfish.” Elsie cocked her head to one side. “You’re not asking me about the house. You’re asking about the family. Come clean.” With effort, she moved around in the chair and eyed Renie, who had just returned from her latest errand. “And clean up. You’ve got garbage all over your bosom.”
Renie offered the old lady a strained smile as she haphazardly brushed off her tee. “People are houses,” Renie said. “If somebody other than the Blands lived across the street, it could be a showplace.”
Elsie considered Renie’s words. “Yes, that’s so. But I still don’t—” She halted for a moment. “Go on, I’m not trying to get rid of you.”
Judith assumed that the old lady was happy to have company, especially guests who seemed interested in her opinions. In fact, before Judith could speak again, Elsie said as much.
“I don’t get many callers. Both my sons live out in the suburbs. Do you think they ever come into town? Too much traffic, they say. And the grandkids—they’re all over the place, some with children of their own. What’s all this soccer and swimming and gymnastics about? They want to be in the Olympics? Everybody’s running around in circles. No time for old folks. Why can’t children just play like we used to do? Or read. The Bookmobile still comes here, but it’s getting so I can only read the large-print books. Maddy—the library lady—says I should try those Books on Tape things. I don’t know—I’ve heard too much in my life already. A book, you can put it down. I don’t want to fiddle with some crazy machine. I probably couldn’t hear it anyway.”
Judith was afraid the conversation was going too far afield. “I suppose,” she said in an effort to steer Elsie back on track, “the Bland children aren’t any better than most about calling on their parents.”
“Oh…” Elsie again cocked her head to one side, eyes darting to the window that looked out onto Moonfleet Street. “They come by now and then. They never stay long, though. Who would want to in such a gloomy old house? I don’t think those upstairs drapes have been opened in twenty years. They must be rotting to pieces. The downstairs isn’t much better. If the sunlight ever got inside that place, it’d probably blind the whole bunch of them.”
“But,” Judith said, “you actually know the younger generation. Lynette, Anna, Philip, and…Did you mention Luke?”
“The son?” Elsie shook her head. “He’s a bit touched, if you ask me. Always wears sunglasses, even when it’s raining. Must think he looks like a movie star. Luke invents things.”
“Such as what?” Renie inquired.
“I couldn’t say. But that’s what I’ve heard he does. Or does he develop things? I forget, something you can’t put your finger on. Rube Goldberg contraptions, probably.” Elsie sniffed with disdain. She pointed to the window that provided a sidelong view of the path to the front porch. “I see the young’uns coming and going once in a while. Alan—that’s Lynette and Luke’s son—he was here a week or so ago. I suppose he’s close to thirty by now. When I could still work in the yard, I’d speak to them. I didn’t care if they didn’t want to speak to me. I call that bad manners, and I’ve no time for it.” She looked at the back of her hands, which were covered with liver spots. “Luke was always polite, though. So was his son, Alan, even though he tended to be tongue-tied in his teens. Typical of adolescents.”
“What about the older folks?” Renie asked. “Do you ever see them?”
“About once every five years,” Elsie retorted. “Look! Sapphires! I’ve always wanted earrings like that! Go tell Teresa!”
Renie whisked around the corner, though there was no sound of her walking away. For the first time, Judith realized that Elsie Bruce wasn’t wearing any jewelry, not even a wedding ring. Her joints were too swollen from arthritis, and the hearing aids would make it difficult to wear earrings. It was a game, harmless, and sad.
“What was I saying?” Elsie mused, her gaze still glued to the sapphires. “Oh—Dick and Jane Bland. Years would go by when I never saw them. Jane went from a willowy brunette to an overweight white-haired old lady. Dick was always nondescript, but when I did see him, little by little, he lost his hair. For a while, he had one of those terrible comb-overs. The next thing you know, he bought a toupee! Imagine! He looked like he was wearing a dead chipmunk on his head. Of course,” she added on a gentler note, “I heard he had a terrible scar from the war. Shot
by the Germans, just missing his brain. No doubt that’s why he couldn’t hold down a job. Sad, I suppose, but at least he got to come home, unlike so many of our other brave boys.”
“What about Mrs. Bland’s sister, Sally?” Renie asked as she reentered the sitting room.
Elsie bristled. “She moved in with them years ago, when the children were still small. A moocher, no doubt, though the few times I’ve seen her, she was all gussied up. I could see her jewelry from here. Why should she have all those emeralds and diamonds and such instead of me? I figure she married a rich man and was left a wealthy widow.” Elsie leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Or a merry widow, maybe. Two, three times a long time ago I saw her sneak out at night and get picked up in fancy cars. Once, I saw her being dropped off in the wee small hours. What was I to think but that she was up to no good?”
“How recent was that?” Judith inquired.
Elsie made a feeble wave with her crippled right hand. “Five years ago? Ten? I lose track of time. I haven’t seen any of the older bunch in maybe a year.”
“What do you think they do inside all the time?” asked Renie.
Elsie sighed. “Who knows? I hardly ever see more than one light on at a time. Maybe they have séances. Maybe they really are all blind. Maybe they’ve turned into moles.” She leaned forward in her chair. “Topaz! I love that color! It looks good enough to eat! Get Teresa.”
The cousins decided they should also get going. Thanking Elsie Bruce, they headed for the front door, meeting Teresa on their way.
“Topaz this time,” Renie said.
“Gotcha,” Teresa replied.
Judith stared. “You speak English?”
“Sure,” Teresa said with a puckish little smile. “I was born in Medford, Oregon.”
“But,” Judith began, “why do you pretend not to understand?”
“Because,” Teresa said, still with the quirky smile, “it makes life easier.”
Judith understood. “Does Mrs. Bruce ever ask what’s happened to her jewelry orders?”
“Never.” Teresa opened the door for the cousins. “She understands, too. And by the way,” she went on, speaking to Judith, “I saw you at the Bland house yesterday. You had a different car, but I recognized you anyway. I don’t know what you’re really up to, but if I were you, I’d keep away from that Bland house.”