Snowman

by Abramson, Mark

  "Oh my," Ruth laughed.

  "Well, you know it just made me want to do the same thing!"

  Ruth laughed. "You and Peter seem to be hitting it off well."

  "Knock on wood," Teresa tapped the table leg with her right knuckle. "So far so good. I’ve never dated a cop before. On the one hand I worry about him being in danger all the time when he’s at work, but on the other hand, that uniform is kind of sexy."

  "Just a second," Ruth said, and then spoke into the phone again. "Yes, I’m right here waiting. Where else would I be? Is Dan still in his meeting or not?"

  Ruth’s doorbell rang and she gave Teresa a wide-eyed look of exasperation, mouthing, "Now, what?"

  Teresa said, "Sit tight, honey. I’ll go see who it is. It’s probably a solicitor. I’ll get rid of them. Or maybe someone’s returning Bartholomew."

  "Now they’ve got me on hold again, but who knows how long it will be this time? I ask you, is this any way to run a business? What if I were an important client or something?"

  Teresa was already down the hallway by now and didn’t hear Ruth’s complaints. "Hello!" She called out as she walked down the steps to the gate, but there was no response.

  She turned the knob, stepped out onto the sidewalk and held the gate open with one hand but she couldn’t see anyone walking away in either direction. As Teresa stepped back inside she spotted a small white box, narrow enough to fit between the bars Bartholomew had squeezed through to get out.

  She carried the box back to Ruth’s kitchen and said, "We should talk to Arturo and Artie about putting up some kind of a screen on that gate. If the cat can get out, the raccoons must be able to get in… or worse things… like rats."

  Ruth shouted into the phone, "I have already been on hold for nearly half an hour! First you said Dan was in a meeting and told me to wait on the line. Now, you can’t find him? Yes, I’ll hold. What choice do I have at this point?"

  Teresa picked up one of the flyers Ruth had left on the side table and looked at the picture of Patrick’s missing friend Darryl. "Where did these come from?"

  "You remember Patrick, don’t you? He was that clean-cut blond boy who worked as a waiter at Arts with Tim."

  "The one who went away to rehab? This doesn’t look a bit like him, I’m afraid."

  "No, that’s a picture of Patrick’s friend Darryl. They met at the Betty Ford clinic, I take it, and now Darryl has turned up missing. I promised Patrick I’d post a couple of those at Arts when I go to work. Who was at the door? What have you got there?"

  "Nobody," Teresa said. "Somebody left this box, though.

  I thought it was from a florist, but they must have jumped into a car and split as soon as they rang your bell. Why would a florist do that, I wonder? It looks like someone printed your name in crayon across the top. A florist would have attached a nice card, wouldn’t they?"

  "That is my name, isn’t it? I can barely read that scrawl,"

  Ruth said and then shouted into the telephone, "What do you mean, he’s out of town? How could he be in a meeting one minute and out of town the next? Do you have a helicopter on your roof nowadays? No. No, I don’t. Yes, I’ve been waiting for over half an hour. You could at least take a message for him. Tell him to call his ex-wife. He has the number. No, my name is Ruth. It’s Ruth Taylor! How many ex-wives does he have by now? I’m the one in San Francisco! Thank you very much. You have a nice day too, dear."

  Ruth dropped the phone into its cradle. "Unbelievable! I have never seen such incompetence. What a way to do business!

  Wait until I get a hold of Dan. I’ll give him a piece of my mind! I thought it was only right that I tell him about Dianne, but you’d think I was a bill-collector, the way they’re treating me."

  "Now, Ruth… there’s a reason they’re exes and not currents, right?"

  "You’re absolutely right. There’s no sense letting him make me so angry. He did enough of that while we were married. He’ll call me when he calls me and then maybe he’ll be the one to have to wait around. Now, what have we here? You think someone sent me flowers, do you?"

  "I thought at first it might be a corsage, but look how they stuck the lid on willy-nilly with Scotch tape all over the place. No gay florist would let the tape show like that."

  "No, I guess not."

  "Neither would any florist with any taste, gay or straight."

  "Well, let’s open it and see." Ruth reached for the box and started pulling at the tape, but soon gave up and fetched a pair of scissors from a kitchen drawer. She slid one blade around the edge of the box, cut the tape and removed the lid, but it looked to be full of crumpled newspaper.

  "Honey, I don’t know what this is, but I don’t think it’s any kind of gift."

  "Well, it’s not my birthday," Ruth said. "It’s not any special day at all and if Sam were sending me something, there’d be a card, wouldn’t there? Who else would send me something?

  I just don’t know."

  Teresa lifted the top layer of crumpled newspaper and spread out one corner to see the date. "It’s this morning’s Chronicle and look! Those look like Polaroids! Do they still even make film for Polaroid cameras? They’re all blurry. I wonder what they’re supposed to be."

  "I don’t know. Let me see them under the light." Ruth reached for them. "This top one looks like a picture of big green box."

  "It’s a refrigerator." Teresa said. "Lenny and I had one just like that in our first apartment when we got married. The landlord said he’d bought it at the old Sears store on Masonic and Geary and it still worked like new. It was a Kenmore side-by-side refrigerator freezer in avocado green. That fridge lasted a lot longer than our marriage, that’s for sure."

  Ruth had gone on to the second picture, which showed the freezer door standing open with a sunken-eyed face peering out from one of the otherwise empty shelves. "Look at this one.

  Is that a Halloween mask?" she asked Teresa. It appeared to be male and Caucasian, but it was otherwise unrecognizable. It had a frost-covered moustache and the head was misshapen, like a plastic doll partially melted from having been left in the sun, even though it was in a refrigerator.

  "Oh God!" Teresa said, "That’s no mask, Ruth. I think it’s a real human head. Let’s see that picture a little closer. That’s gross. What’s the other one?"

  "The third one looks like the same picture. No, it isn’t quite the same. The nose is missing. Oh, what kind of a sick joke is this?"

  Teresa picked up the box and dumped the rest of the contents out onto Ruth’s kitchen table. There was more crumpled newspaper, a zip-lock quart-size freezer bag, and a note that fluttered to the floor. Teresa let out a scream when the clear plastic bag hit the table. It held an eyeball and a nose with a tiny gold ring through the right nostril. Both were frozen, but thawing fast.

  "Oh, my God. Patrick said Darryl wore a tiny gold hoop in his nose. I think these belonged to his missing friend."

  Ruth jumped back from the table and cringed. She had begun to pick up the corner of the bag with her fingertips, but now she dropped it back down among the crumpled newspapers. She reached for the telephone and one of the flyers at the same time. "Let me see that picture again. No, I mean the second one. See it there? It’s so frosty that it’s hard to make out, but I think that’s the same gold ring that’s on the nose in this bag. Oh dear, I don’t know who to call first. I must have Captain O’Sullivan’s number around here somewhere. Maybe I left his card in my purse."

  "Peter’s number is right beside my bed. Don’t you move a muscle, Ruthie. I’ll run upstairs and get it and I’ll be back in a jiffy."

  Ruth had almost forgotten about the note that fell out of the box. She picked it up from the floor and read the scrawl under the bright kitchen light.

  Keep yore eyes 2 yoresef & yore own fat noz out of other peepls biznis if you no wats gud 4 you or yule B next, Bich!

  Chapter 19

  fter Tim said good-bye to his Aunt Ruth he sat down on the bench outside Buffalo Whole
Foods and A punched in the number at the nursery. Jenny answered the phone. "Gosh, Tim, I know Nick would want to talk to you, but he’s in an important meeting with a rich client who just bought a winery. I could tell him it’s an emergency.

  You just say the word and I will. I mean, when he has a client in the ‘inner sanctum’ we’re not supposed to disturb him, but…"

  "That’s okay, Jen…" Tim was dying to tell Nick the good news about having one less whack-job clinging to the family tree. Now he had to stifle a pang of paranoia that Nick wasn’t available to him at a moment’s notice.

  "You should see his new office, Tim. It’s really nice, now that the hardwood floors are finished and all the new furniture is moved in."

  "I’m sure I’ll see it soon. Just tell him I called, okay?"

  "Wait a minute, Tim. We have some other rules around here I almost forgot. Nick said that whenever Tim calls, that’s a priority, too."

  Tim smiled at this bit of news.

  "I’m just not sure which rule has priority, so if you said it was an emergency, I could interrupt his meeting. Either way, I’m gonna be in trouble."

  "God, you make Nick sound like an ogre," Tim tried to laugh. "I’m glad I don’t have to work for him and see his dark side."

  "Oh, no! Now I’ll be in trouble for saying that. Don’t you dare make it sound like I said that. He’s the best boss I’ve ever had. You tell him that. And furthermore, he’s been in a terrific mood ever since he got back from seeing you this weekend."

  Tim’s paranoia vanished as quickly as it had surfaced.

  "I’ve got an idea. When Nick finishes his meeting, call me, but hang up after the first ring. I’ll wait a minute and then I’ll call him back. You and I never had this conversation and nobody gets in any trouble, okay?"

  "You’re the best! Thanks, Tim. Don’t wait too long to call, though. If he signs a new account with this winery, he might want to knock off early and celebrate. Maybe he’ll take me shopping for new gardening gloves at the K-Mart in Santa Rosa."

  "What a thrill!"

  "That’s the story of my life, just one big thrill after another," Jenny laughed. "Later. "

  "Thanks, Jen."

  Tim snapped his cell phone shut and heard someone call his name. He looked around and saw Arturo waving from his car window across the street. He was pulling into a space a few yards uphill from the restaurant.

  "Hi, Arturo," Tim yelled back, but was drowned out by the screeching siren of a passing ambulance. He crossed Castro Street and reached the car as Arturo popped open the trunk containing all the supplies from a major shopping trip at Costco.

  "Your timing couldn’t be better, Tim. You and Nick both seem to show up right when you’re needed. How do you boys do it?"

  "I think you’re just lucky. But the last time Nick helped you out was when you guys found the body parts in the sewage.

  I hope you don’t have any grisly surprises in store for me today."

  "We are fresh out of eyeballs and severed limbs, I assure you. If you’ll just carry the paper things inside, that will be a big help. They’re the lightest ones. There’s a case of envelopes, a case of paper towels, and…"

  "I got it, Arturo. I got it." Arturo went ahead of Tim in order to turn off the alarm system and between the two of them they unloaded the car in three trips.

  "I’d at least offer you a drink in return for helping me out, but you know Artie’s the bartender in the family. How about a cold beer? I think I know how to open one of those without any trouble."

  "That’s all right," Tim said. "I’m okay. I just walked Aunt Ruth back to Collingwood from the hospital and I’m on my way home. I’ve got chores to do and I’m expecting a call from Nick."

  "How is your cousin? Did she get her test results back yet? What’s the verdict over there at the hospital?"

  "Yeah, well…" Tim started to say, but he didn’t want to explain everything to Arturo just now. He wanted to tell Nick the news, first. "It’s kind of a long story. I’m sure Aunt Ruth will fill you in when she knows more. I’ve gotta get going."

  "Thanks again for helping me out, Tim."

  "Sure, no problem… do you need help putting things away?"

  "Nah, that’s okay… but one more thing before you go..."

  "Yeah?"

  "Artie and I were wondering if you’re planning to come back to work soon. Business has been good lately. Lots of tourists in town these days and both Jake and James are overdue for some vacation time. It looks like we’ll have to hire another waiter, but we wanted you to have first dibs."

  "Thanks, Arturo. I really appreciate it and I’d like to say I could start tomorrow, but I’m not quite there, yet. A couple more weeks, maybe?"

  "Two weeks… can we hold you to that?"

  "Hey, what about Patrick? You know he’s back in town, right? He says he’s been clean for six months, now. He’s involved with some new anti-meth crusade, but it’s not like he’s making any money at it."

  "What do you think?" Arturo asked. "You’ve seen him.

  We haven’t. Do you think he’s really gotten himself straightened out?"

  "I sure hope so. He told me you and Artie paid for him to go to Betty Ford. That was really good of you guys."

  "Both times," Arturo turned and stared out the window toward the delivery truck unloading fifty-pound bags of potting soil in front of the plant store across the street. "We thought it was the right thing to do, that’s all. He was a good kid before he got mixed up with that stuff. You know… after Jorge and Jason were killed, Artie and I got to thinking. You boys and our tenants—especially your Aunt Ruth—are like our little family.

  We were afraid if we didn’t get Patrick straightened out, we might lose another one of our kids and we just couldn’t take a chance on that."

  "Then why not give him a chance to cover for one of those vacations you mentioned. You could see how he does."

  "I’ll talk it over with Artie. If you think Patrick is ready and you might be ready too in a couple of weeks, we could probably put you both on the schedule, at least part time. Then we wouldn’t need to hire anyone." Arturo lifted one of the heavy boxes from the floor and set it on top of the bar.

  "I’m sure I’ll be ready to come back to work soon, but you might want to see how I do, too. I might be pretty rusty after so much time off."

  Arturo smiled and shook his head. "I’m sure you’ll do fine. I ought to just let Artie worry about handling the staff. He’s had a lot more experience with people than me. I’m better off staying in the background. That reminds me, I need to put some of these cold things in the walk-in right away. I’ll lock you out first. Thanks again for your help."

  "Bye, Arturo."

  Tim walked back up the hill to 19th Street and then left to Noe. As he reached in his pocket for his front door keys he felt his cell phone vibrate once and stop. Jenny. He was glad that Adam had showed him how to turn off the opening bars of The 1812 Overture and set the phone to vibrate. He’d told Jenny to let the phone ring once, but the vibrator had gone off twice already.

  Who could this be? Hardly anyone had the number.

  A month or so ago he practically had to crawl up these stairs in torturous pain, but now he took them two at a time. Tim threw himself across his bed and flipped open the cell phone at the same time he kicked off his sneakers.

  "Hey, Tim, is that you?" Jenny asked. "Are you home yet?"

  "Yo, Jen! I just walked in the door."

  "Perfect timing. The client just drove off and Nick came out of the office with a huge grin on his face."

  "Great! Where is he?" Tim asked. "You were supposed to let it ring once and hang up. Can’t he hear you? Are you going to let me talk to him this time?"

  "He went to the bathroom," Jenny said. "You can’t hear anything in there with the fan running. Hold on a sec. Here he comes, now… Nick! It’s Tim on line one!"

  "Thanks a lot, Jen."

  "I’ll get it in my office." That was all Tim could hear in
the background, followed by a couple of clicks and finally, "Hey, Snowman! What’s up?"

  "Nick, I’ve got the most amazing news about Dianne.

  I’ve been dying to tell someone."

  "I’ve got good news, too," Nick said, "but you go first.

  What did the doctors say? Did she get the test results back?"

  "Oh, that…" Tim paused. "That part isn’t so good. She needs a kidney transplant eventually and she’ll have to start dialysis soon."

  "Too bad. I know she’s a pain in the ass, but I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I had an uncle in New Orleans who went through that. What’s the good news?"