by Lee Harris
“That's the one. He was a nice enough guy, but he was so introverted. I don't think he had many friends.”
“What's the story? What's the connection to Arizona?”
“It was very sad, Chris. He traveled out there one summer when he was in college to walk in the mountains, and he disappeared. Some hikers found his body several days later. It looked as if he had fallen off a narrow trail. He probably died in the fall or soon after.”
“I remember now. It was in the paper. Aunt Meg sent me the clipping. There wasn't any evidence of foul play, was there?”
“Not at all. The question they raised was whether he had slipped and fallen or whether—” She stopped, and I knew what she was thinking.
“Whether he committed suicide?”
“Yes. It's terrible to thinkof a kid of nineteen or twenty doing something like that. Traveling all that way by himself, finding a lonely trail. Even now it's hard for me to say it.”
“Why would he do that?” I asked.
“You remember him, Chris. Smart, quiet, almost no friends. I don't think he ever went out on a date or got invited to a party. He spent all his time in the library or at home with his parents. His father was very stiff. I met him once, maybe at high school graduation. Mrs. Gruner was there, too, kind of a mousy woman. Maybe I'm being unfair, but I swear she walked two steps behind him.”
“I remember her,” I said. “We met a couple of times, at school functions, I think. She was very sweet.”
“Yes, she used to help out at concerts and plays.”
I hadn't graduated from Maddie's high school, having gone to live at St. Stephen's when I was about halfway through. From then on, I attended high school in the town adjacent to the convent. “Where did he go to college?” I asked.
“I don't remember, some small, elite place in Ohio or Indiana or one of those states. I never saw him after graduation. No, that's wrong—I did, just once. I was out on a date, I think, and we stopped at Blackie's Diner for ice cream after a movie. Doesn't that sound sweet and innocent?” She laughed.
Never having dated in my life till I was released from my vows at age thirty, I was hardly the judge of sweetness and innocence. But I agreed with her that it did. “And you saw him?”
“He was in a booth with a girl I'd never seen and they were eating huge sundaes. Funny that I remember that. When my date and I left the diner, we walked past the table and I said hi. It took him a couple of seconds to place me, but I got a smile from him. That was the last time I saw him. He probably died the next summer.”
I felt a chill. We were talking about a real person whom we had known, someone who had figured in our lives. “I don't suppose you remember where in Arizona he died.”
“Oh gosh no. It wasn't the Grand Canyon. I'd remember that. It was a mountain somewhere. Tucson sticks in my mind.”
“Mine, too. Are his parents alive?”
“I'm not sure. I think I read an obituary for his father a long time ago. They weren't young. I think Heinz was born when his parents were already close to middle age. They came over from Germany or Austria after the war and they spoke with an accent, but their English was excellent. I think Heinz was born here.”
“So his mother might be alive,” I said.
“Could be. Hold on, I'll check the phone book.” She put the phone down and I sat and waited. Maddie still lived in the town where we'd grown up, several miles from the house where I'd been raised. Her mention of Blackie's Diner had triggered a host of memories, all pleasant. I could almost taste the hot fudge they were famous for, which we ate by the gallon.
“There's no Gruner in the book,” Maddie's voice said in my ear. “And this is for several towns around. So either Mrs. Gruner moved or died or—”
“Or remarried,” I said.
“Why are you so interested, Chris?”
I told her about my upcoming trip to Arizona and how it had brought back memories. “In any case, I think I'll try to locate Mrs. Gruner and have a chat with her before I go. I haven't thought of Heinz since the time I read about his death. I'm sure she'd like to hear from someone who thought her son was a nice person.”
“Sounds like you're describing a mother.”
“I am indeed. Let's get together, Maddie, when you and I have a free day or at least a couple of hours.”
“After Easter,” she said. “Things should calm down. Give my love to Jack.”
“I will.” I asked to be remembered to her family as well, including her parents. Then I hung up and thought about the boy who died so far from home so many years too soon.
I didn't mention my interest in Heinz Gruner to Jack. Since I was unlikely to find his mother and even more unlikely to learn anything further about his untimely death, it didn't merit a discussion. Besides Maddie, I knew almost no one else from high school. My short time there had not been happy. My mother was ill and she died when I was fifteen, my father having died of a heart attack a number of years earlier. I'd gone to live with Aunt Meg and Uncle Willy but their home was also a place of illness, notably my cousin Gene's. That I emerged as a whole person was due to the efforts of the nuns at St. Stephen's, with the help of my aunt and uncle. Despite all the trouble in their lives, they remained a constant support.
I called Joseph the next morning to tell her that I was happy to accept her invitation, and that all the arrangements for my family would be taken care of. She said she would let me know soon what her dates were, what hotel we would stay at in Phoenix, and other details. I checked my wardrobe and found that last year's bathing suits were still in good shape and my summer clothes were just waiting to be packed.
While I was reading the Times after lunch, the phone rang. It was Maddie.
“I made a couple of phone calls this morning,” she said. “Believe it or not, I located Mrs. Gruner.”
“Maddie, that's wonderful. I think I'll enlist you if I ever have another homicide to solve. Where is she?”
“In a care facility. There's a home not far from here: one of those places that's split between older people who need almost no care and go about their business, and people who need assistance. Mrs. Gruner had a stroke several years ago and she's been there ever since. Here's the number of the home.”
I grabbed an envelope and wrote it down. “Maybe I'll drive over this afternoon. Eddie is taken care of after school, and my teaching work is done.”
“You're too much,” Maddie said, laughing. “You think you're going to find a murder in that poor boy's death?”
“Not at all. I think I'm going to keep a lonesome mother company for an hour and listen to whatever she wants to talk about.”
“Keep me informed.”
I promised to do that.
I called the home and was told Mrs. Gruner was able to have visitors and this afternoon would be a fine time to come. I didn't need an explicit invitation. I took off.
Hillside Village sat on a large, beautiful piece of property that would be green in a few weeks. It wasn't exactly a “village,” but several buildings formed the complex, most of them small, one-story affairs. That was where the independent residents lived, I learned later. The large central structure housed those people who needed assistance or nursing care. Lawn furniture dotted the area in front of that building, but it was too cool for sitting outside. I parked in the visitors' section around the side and found my way inside to the front desk where it was warm, and people walked or were pushed in wheelchairs along the hallway.
“I'm Chris Bennett,” I announced to the young woman at the desk. “I called awhile ago. I'd like to visit Mrs. Gruner.”
“Yes, I took your call. I'll tell her you're coming.” She tried the number, but no one answered. “She may be sleeping or at an activity. Let me get someone to show you the way.”
It took several minutes before a young man appeared wearing a name tag that said ERNIE, and he accompanied me to an elevator and up to the third floor.
“You a relative?” he asked.
�
��I'm Christine Bennett, an old friend of her son.”
“Her son. Yeah. She talks about him. He died, didn't he?”
“Many years ago. We went to the same high school.”
“I bet she'll be glad to see you. She doesn't get many visitors.”
The elevator stopped and we marched down the corridor. Ernie was a fast walker and although I walk pretty fast myself, I had to hurry to keep up. He stopped abruptly in front of a closed door. I had noticed as we scampered down the hall that most of the doors were open.
He knocked and called, “Mrs. Gruner, you have a visitor. Can we come in?” When a sound reached us, he opened the door. “Hi, Mrs. Gruner. This is Christine Bennett. She's come to see you.”
The woman sitting in the chair by the window observed us with sharp eyes. “I know you,” she said, her English heavily accented. “The face is familiar but I don't remember the name.”
“Chris Bennett. I went to high school with Heinz.”
“Yes, of course. You knew my son.”
“Well,” Ernie said, “I'll leave you two together.” He closed the door behind him.
I sat on the bottom edge of the bed, which was covered with a spread. “We met a few times when we both helped out at school events,” I said. “And I knew Heinz. I went to his high school for about two years.”
“Yes, I remember now. We talked while we set the tables. What brings you here after all this time?”
“I thought about Heinz yesterday and I asked an old friend where his parents were. I just thought I'd like to drop in and say hello.” As I spoke, I had the sense that perhaps I shouldn't have come. It had been impulsive of me to drive here without first asking Mrs. Gruner if she wanted company. Her life of solitude might be a personal choice.
“You thought about Heinz? What did you think?”
“His name came up in conversation,” I said. “I remember him very well. Is there anything I can get you, Mrs. Gruner? Some tea?”
“Tea. Yes, I like a cup of tea. You will get it?”
“I'll be right back.” I looked around, hoping to find a nurse or an aide who could help me. I retraced my steps to the elevator, continued beyond it, and found a nurse's station. I explained my mission, and one of the nurses said she would have two cups of tea sent to Mrs. Gruner's room. I thanked her and found my way back. “They'll send up some tea.”
The woman smiled and nodded. I wondered if she ever asked for anything or if she just sat and accepted what was given to her. She had a plain face, marked with lines that did not come from laughter. Her hair was straight and coarse, fading black mixed with colorless gray. She wore no makeup. Her skin was sallow. She was wearing a black wool skirt and a gray cotton blouse with a black sweater over it.
“I like tea,” she said again. “Do you like tea?”
“Very much. Especially on a gray afternoon.”
“I have not gone out.” She turned and looked out the window. “Yes, it is gray.” She turned back to look at me. “Tell me your name again?”
“Chris Bennett. I went to school with Heinz for a couple of years. Then I left the area.”
“You know my son is dead.”
“Yes, I heard about it. My aunt sent me the article from the paper. I should have written you a letter. I'm sorry I didn't.”
“He's buried next to my husband. I have not been to the cemetery for many years.”
“Are you able to walk?”
She pointed to a cane with three prongs on the bottom. “I need a little help, but I can walk. I used to walk every morning before my stroke. How did you know Heinz?”
“We were in a couple of classes together. I liked him very much.”
“He was a good son, a good person. When he died, he killed both of us.”
“It must have been terrible.”
“Terrible? Terrible is a war or an avalanche or an epidemic. When your son dies, it is the end of the world.”
“Yes,” I said, humbled by her description. “You're right.”
“He was our only child, the one who would carry something of us forward into future generations as he made himself a life. I'm sorry. I should talk of other things. We are not friends, only acquaintances. The German language makes a difference between friends and acquaintances. Did you know that?”
“I don't know German. But it sounds like a useful distinction.”
“That is what it is. I had friends, good friends, in Germany. One or two of them have come to visit. My husband and I went to visit several times, but I cannot travel alone. So those friends are gone. We had friends here, too, but most have left for other places. Some have died. I sound like a dreary old woman.”
“You sound as though you've thought a lot about life and its consequences.”
“Consequences, yes.”
As she started to elaborate, there was a knock on the door and a girl came in with a tray. She set it on top of the dresser, asked if there was anything else she could do, and left.
The tea was in a ceramic pot with two cups and saucers and a dish of cookies on a white paper doily. I poured for both of us. Mrs. Gruner took lemon, as I did, and declined sugar. She took two cookies and set them on her lap. The tea was hot and aromatic. I was glad I'd ordered it.
“We gave him the money to take the trip,” she said, continuing her last thought. “He enjoyed hiking. At college he had friends who spent the weekends walking and hiking. It was our birthday present to him, the ticket to Arizona so he could see the desert and all the mountains out there. They said he fell from the trail. He had many injuries.”
“That's what I heard.”
She nibbled at a cookie. “My husband went out to see the place,” she said. “He walked the same trail where Heinz walked. He said Heinz was too sure—” She stopped, searching for a word.
“Sure-footed,” I supplied.
“Yes, sure on his feet. He should not have fallen.”
“Accidents happen, Mrs. Gruner. Maybe the sun was hot and he felt light-headed. He could have run out of water and not felt steady on his feet.”
“This is all possible.” She set her cup and saucer down on a small table beside her.
I brought the pot over and refilled the cup, then warmed up my own.
“Thankyou,” she said. “I enjoy a cup of tea in the afternoon but I forget to askfor it. And you know what I do when I'm finished?” Her eyes lit up. “I eat the lemon.” She smiled. “My husband could never understand it. He needed sugar in everything. I like the tart taste of lemons and limes and grapefruits.”
“So do I,” I admitted. “Maybe we come from the same family.”
She nodded and smiled. “It's good to talkto someone who isn't complaining about the food or her daughter-in-law.”
I laughed. “Not very stimulating conversation.”
“But better than thinking over and over about what happened twenty years ago. If we could only go back and do it again.”
“Are you able to go out for a drive?” I asked, trying to divert her to a different topic of conversation.
“I cannot drive.”
“But you could sit next to me.”
“I can sit next to anyone.”
“Suppose I come back and we'll go out for a ride.”
“Why do you do this?” she asked. “We are only acquaintances.”
“Because I want to,” I said. “Would you like to go?”
“Very much. Very, very much.”
“I'll call and arrange a date. It's been a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Gruner.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Bennett.”
“Chris. Call me Chris.”
She pronounced my name. Her R's were very German but she spoke English well. She held out her hand for me to shake. Then I left.
* * *
Jack listened to my story that evening. “How did you find her?” he asked.
“Maddie found her. She doesn't get many visitors. She probably sits inside in the winter and outside in the summer and goes nowhere. That's
no way to live. I'm going to take her for a ride next week, let her look around and breathe some fresh air.”
“From what you said, it sounds like she thinks her son committed suicide.”
“She didn't say that. She just said it was unlikely that someone with his hiking skills would fall. I told her it was very possible that he did. He could have been dehydrated; it gets pretty hot down there. Or maybe the sun made him disoriented. People shouldn't hike alone in unknown territory.”
“Agreed. So don't you do that when you're there.” He gave me a look.
“I'll be as good as I can. If I wander off on a trail, I'll have Joseph with me.”
“Great,” he said with sarcasm. “So you're going to try to prove that this guy fell, that he didn't jump off the trail.”
“I'm not trying to prove anything. I just want to make a sad old woman happy.”
He leaned over and kissed me. “Let's go upstairs and make your ever-lovin' husband happy.”
“Sounds good to me.”
I have been teaching a course at a local college for several years. Most of what we read is mysteries by American women. Occasionally, by popular request, we read a book by a man. I vary the list of books each semester, partly to keep myself from becoming bored and partly to keep my students honest. Looking at last year's final won't help to answer all the questions I ask this year.
I teach one long class every Monday morning, and then I'm free for the rest of the week. I like to have lunch at the college after I teach, as the food is made by students in the food service program and it's unusually good for institutional fare. Also, they sell fresh hot pies, and that will keep me teaching forever if Jack has his way. He's a sucker for fruit pies. Not that Eddie and I aren't.
I checked with Mrs. Gruner on Sunday afternoon to see whether she was up for a drive on Monday. Then I called Elsie Rivers, my mother's closest friend and my ace babysitter. She would pick Eddie up from school and take him to her house until I arrived.
After lunch at the college, I bought a fresh, warm apple pie, and stopped at Prince's, our upscale supermarket, on the way home to get some ice cream. Then I went home to put the food away before driving to Hillside Village. I decided to stay in my teaching clothes, which are somewhat less casual than my at-home clothes. Mrs. Gruner was an Old World woman and would probably appreciate a bit of formality.