Presumption Of Death

by Perri O'shaughnessy

  The human condition, irrational, unpredictable, people just trying to scrabble through life-the truth is, we don’t think very well.

  Eminem’s song about cleaning out his closet came on, and she remembered the Boyz cleaning house to that very tune. She turned it up to make it so loud, the people in the car passing her illegally on the right could hear the earth-shattering bass. She sang “I never meant to hurt you-u-u” along with the chorus. Son home, lover drunk.

  Fine. Go to work. She felt quite alert after the nap.

  At Southbank Road, she turned and climbed up the hill toward Elizabeth Gold’s. The house, larger than she would ever have dreamed, had that expensive up-lighting that turned greenery and home into a movie set.

  Elizabeth, luminous in a clingy bamboo-spangled robe, answered the door promptly. Not exactly trained sociologist attire, which caused Nina to think again, she’s in danger of turning into Virginia Woolf.

  She took Nina into a living room that resembled the inside of a cathedral. Gigantic, sparkling windows curved along one whole wall, pines and oaks fluttered beyond.

  “Wow,” she said, starting off with some especially articulate lawyer talk.

  “Thanks,” said Elizabeth. “Want to try some lapsang souchong?”

  “Whatever.”

  Elizabeth left Nina to admire the scenery, returning after some time with a tray loaded with teapot, honey, noncaloric sweetener, and a colorful tin tea canister.

  “I’ll bet you see deer out there,” Nina said, stirring honey into the tea.

  “They eat everything.” Elizabeth hadn’t sat down, but had gone to the window, looking dreamily out. “If they don’t, the gophers do. One year I planted three Japanese maple trees. The gophers ate the root balls. They just toppled over one fine day.”

  “But it’s beautiful,” Nina said.

  “Yes,” Elizabeth agreed. “I wanted a fortress. A nunnery of one. I found an architect who specialized in women like me.” She smiled. “He enjoyed building to the absolute limit allowed by law. The size is obscene, I know. One time the Cat Lady came up to me as I was getting into my car in the driveway and she whispered, ‘Obscenely wealthy people should have their wealth taken.’ ”

  “The Twelve Points,” Nina said. “That was only one of her pillars of wisdom.”

  “She was right. If you don’t use your surplus money to help others, you ought to have it taken for that purpose. I’ve given so much away, I may have to actually start working for a living.” She laughed. “But the house… it’s my security. I’m trying to decide if it’s my prison too.”

  Elizabeth stirred honey into her tea, her movements as exquisite as a geisha’s. It irritated Nina, how much time she seemed to have to pay attention to small things, to be sensitive, to think about herself. She realized she felt envious of the young woman sitting in her luxurious home. She knew from the Siesta Court party that Elizabeth inspired that reaction in others too.

  “So what’s on those tapes?” she said abruptly.

  Elizabeth sipped. “I don’t know if you’ve studied sociology.”

  Nina shook her head.

  “I’m working on my Ph.D. thesis. In my branch of study, we look at group dynamics and power struggles.”

  Nina said, “You taped those people as a research project?”

  “Well,” Elizabeth said, “for years my sister, Debbie, talked about these get-togethers she hosted. I listened, feeling like I was listening to a weekday-afternoon soap. The characters seemed like cardboard. The conflicts between the locals and the newcomers were so aptly illustrated they almost seemed contrived, you know? When I moved here, I really thought it would be interesting to take an objective look-see. I decided to write my thesis about gentrification on Siesta Court.”

  Nina said, “How does your sister feel about that?”

  “Debbie doesn’t know. None of them know. It would affect their behavior and ruin the study.”

  “But-you’re part of it. You affect the parties and their behavior.”

  “Not really. I keep a very low profile. You’re smiling. You don’t think I’m sufficiently objective. I can compensate for these problems.” She sighed. “Actually, you’re right. I have just developed a rather significant objectivity problem.”

  “And his name is Ben,” Nina said. “We ladies do have a grapevine.”

  Elizabeth tensed, then smiled back. “I can find something else to write about,” she said. “I won’t find another Ben. If you know about Ben, I suppose you also know how Darryl Eubanks has been harassing me.”

  “That too.”

  “I’ve taken care of it.”

  Nina said, “You know, Elizabeth, I’m interested in sociology and psychology, and I can’t wait to hear what you’ve discovered in connection with your thesis. But what I’d really, really like to know right now is how you’ve taken care of Darryl.”

  Now they were both smiling. “I called Tory, his wife, and had a chat with her,” Elizabeth said. “I took the bull by the horns.”

  “Wow,” Nina said again, impressed.

  “I explained that Darryl was having a problem, and I suggested counseling.”

  “How did she react?”

  “She slammed the phone down in my ear. I believe she’ll calm down quickly and have a rational discussion with him and that he will stop bothering me.”

  “No doubt.”

  “You’re making fun of me?”

  “Not at all. I just have less faith in the rule of reason than you when it comes to human beings.”

  “Maybe when this is all over we could have lunch together,” Elizabeth said. “I’d like to make some friends. What do you think?”

  “Sure.” They nodded at each other. Nina felt as though she had been handed an unexpected gift. She liked Elizabeth, and she also needed a friend.

  “I promise not to tape you,” Elizabeth went on, and laughed.

  “Speaking of tapes…”

  Nina received a ten-minute lecture about the classifications Elizabeth had assigned to each of the neighbors, and her hypothesis that the newbies, though fewer in number, were winning the power struggle, not only because they had a monetary advantage, but also because they possessed what Elizabeth called a “timely” advantage.

  “Different groups of people develop at different rates,” she explained. “The newbies live in the twenty-first century. The locals live in about 1960. I have surveyed both groups informally. The mores of the locals haven’t stopped developing, but the rate of development has been slower because they stayed in their enclave and didn’t experience as many upheavals as the newbies. The newbies move all the time. It speeds them up.”

  “I never heard this idea before,” Nina said.

  “I made it up. It explains so many things. Of course I will have numerous references to other authorities who have said something similar. But no one has put it exactly this way.”

  “So never the twain shall meet? The newbies and the locals are fated to slug it out, and the locals will fade away?”

  “And then the newbies will become entrenched, and slow down. And they will become locals. If they’re lucky, they will have some time before the next wave of newbies arrives.”

  “What happens to this ongoing power struggle if an outside threat comes along that threatens both groups?”

  “That’s exactly what happened.”

  “That’s exactly what happened? You mean on Siesta Court? When the Green River development started?”

  “Obviously.”

  “And all this has to do with your tapes?”

  “Yes. For all this time I have been quite sure that the core group issue was gentrification. The subjects aligned according to their newbie/local status as predicted.

  “But then about two months ago, I noticed a change in the dynamic of the block parties. I would listen to the tapes afterward, and in the middle of the usual hanky-panky and drinking and skinned knees on the kids, I realized that a surprising new set of alliances had forme
d and most of the group energy had transferred there.”

  Nina waited.

  “Very sudden and very powerful, this shift. Different people became leaders, and some people became irrelevant. The dynamic changed utterly.”

  “Go on.”

  “The alliances solidified and secrets developed.”

  “You’re too general,” Nina said. “This is interesting, but I know you asked me here to tell me something important about my client’s case. It’s late, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth said, leaning forward, “I’ll make it simple. The men allied. And the women allied. Across the newbie/local lines.”

  Nina considered this. “They broke into gender-based groups over the conflict with the subdivision?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Secrets developed?”

  “The men began holding private conversations. I should mention that Ben was the exception throughout. He was kept outside.”

  “Why?”

  “I think-I think they knew Ben wouldn’t want to get involved.”

  “Involved in what?”

  “I’m not sure. Now. Remember, at this time Danny was still alive. He had always been an outsider too. Suddenly he was talking a lot and being listened to. He was an integral part of this new alliance.

  “I could only catch bits and pieces of their conversations during the parties. They always came back to the Green River development. I’m quite sure that they began holding other conversations outside the parties. Away from the women, whom they didn’t trust.”

  “And you say the women began doing the same thing? Meeting secretly?”

  “Not exactly. They had always used that extremely fast and efficient telegraph called gossip, but they talked as a group more than they used to. I was curious as to why they tolerated Britta at all. But then I realized that Britta had an important role as the transgressive woman in the group. They all had the same issue-the men were shutting them out, and they all felt resentful. Actually, the men had always shut them out in various ways-George keeping Jolene from their money, Darryl shutting Tory out emotionally-but this was a conspicuous exacerbation.”

  “You mean they tolerated Britta because she caused so much trouble?” Nina asked, amazed.

  “Oh, yes, Britta helped all the women vent their frustrations. Did you notice how muted Debbie’s response was to Britta’s transgression with her husband, Sam?”

  “You mean the lap dance?”

  “Yes. It reminds me of the custom in a certain African tribe. It’s called ‘sitting on a man.’ The women go to the hut of a man who has violated some social custom and compel him to submit to the very same obscenity. It’s a sexual attack. Humiliating. Degrading.”

  “You’re kidding,” Nina said. “The women despise Britta.”

  “Consciously, they do. Unconsciously, they admire her.”

  “You know, I think you’re right. It was like a-a rape,” Nina said. Elizabeth nodded.

  “Then Danny died. The last tape I made-at the party you went to-contains a few bits of conversation from one of those male groupings. I want to play it for you.” She got up and led Nina into a book-lined study, green-walled and octagonal, like the tower of a princess in a fairy tale. She had already inserted the cassette into the player, and she switched it on and off at each phrase, watching Nina’s reactions.

  “This is Britta,” she said.

  “What’re you guys talking about, hmm?”

  “Sam answers her”:

  “Danny. We’re toasting Danny.”

  “They all laugh here, you can hear it, and I don’t know who says this”:

  “Good riddance.”

  “Now another group response”:

  “Yeah.”

  “And that’s what I thought you should hear,” Elizabeth concluded. They were both standing, and both very excited.

  Nina said, “They were glad Danny was dead.”

  “They were toasting his death,” Elizabeth said. “Fascinating, no?”

  PART FOUR

  And folks who put me in a passion

  May find I pipe in another fashion.

  29

  O N WEDNESDAY MORNING, NINA WAS EATING her breakfast when her father came to the door. Paul had just gotten up and was pouring himself his first cup of coffee, and Bob had been up for hours E-mailing on the computer and playing with Hitchcock.

  “Grandpa!” Harlan hugged Bob and followed him into the kitchen.

  “Figured I had to come to you,” he said to Nina, and sat down. “Long time no see.”

  “Well, Dad, what a surprise.”

  “When I got the call from Bob last night, I decided to drop by. Okay with you?”

  “How about a cup of coffee?”

  “Sounds good, Paul.” Harlan, hale, red-faced, and loud-voiced as always, was wearing a Pebble Beach Company golf shirt and creased pants. At sixty-four, he had already been retired for years and he lived for the putting green. “My own daughter moves here and doesn’t come to see me. I have to come to her. Hard to imagine, isn’t it, Paul?”

  “I’m sorry, Dad, I’ve been so busy-” Harlan ignored her crummy excuses and turned to Bob.

  “So you’ve been chatting up Swedish girls in the Land of the Midnight Sun?”

  “Not exactly,” Bob said.

  “What brought you back so soon?”

  “Stuff.”

  “You talk just like your mother at your age, which is to say, not at all. You okay, though?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Glad to be home?”

  “Yeah. I guess this is home.”

  Harlan accepted the coffee and began telling them about his new house in Pacific Grove and how Angie and Isaiah were doing. He made it all sound so normal and homey that Nina began thinking to herself, How come I’ve stayed away?

  Still, she never felt comfortable with Harlan’s new family. Her stepmother, Angie, was younger than Nina, and Nina’s half-brother, little Isaiah, was more than thirty years younger than she. Nina didn’t feel that she belonged in this new family constellation.

  And, to be unfair, she still thought Harlan had remarried too soon after her mother’s death. But Bob had none of these reservations, and was asking a lot of questions about his Uncle Isaiah, age three.

  “We got him this electric-powered toy loader. Tot size, but he can raise and lower the loader and pick up dirt. He’s a hoot. He rides up and down the driveway all day in it.”

  “This I gotta see,” said Bob.

  “Come on over this morning and you can. I’ll take you boys to Cannery Row for pizza and drop you off later.”

  Bob said, “Mom?”

  “Your mom can come too. You too, Paul.”

  “Sorry, Dad, but I have a prelim on Monday.”

  “As always. How about it, bud?”

  “Is that okay, Mom?”

  “Sure,” Nina said. “Clean clothes in the laundry room. Hustle now.” When Bob had left, she said, “I really am sorry, Dad.”

  “I’d like to spend some time with you, Nina-pinta.”

  “I’ll try to do better. We’ll have dinner soon.”

  “Where’s Bob sleeping?” Harlan was looking around.

  “In the second bedroom. Paul’s study.”

  “That’s all you have? Two bedrooms? Angie and I have four. He ought to stay with us. He’ll drive you two crazy in this little place, and Angie likes to make nice dinners. Not that you couldn’t make a nice dinner if you had the time,” he added.

  Before Nina could respond, Paul sat down across from Harlan and said, “That’s a mighty nice offer, Harlan.”

  “I’d love to have Bob for the summer. I’ll teach him to play golf. While you people figure out what you’re doing.”

  “Isn’t that a great idea, Nina?” Paul said.

  “It’s very nice,” Nina said. “I’d have to give it some thought. And talk to Bob about it.”

  “Sure, sure. I know Angie wouldn’t mind a bit, though. And he hasn’t spent much
time around Isaiah. He’s Bob’s uncle, after all.” And my half-brother too, Nina thought. Dad, why does your life have to be so complicated? This thought was followed by a chastening realization: She took after Harlan in that respect.

  Bob came back in with his backpack.

  “You ready to roll?” Harlan asked him.

  “I just wanted to ask you something first, Mom. In private,” Bob said.

  “Sure, honey.” They closed the door to the main bedroom.

  Bob said, “I was listening to you guys. About living with Grandpa.”

  “Oh.”

  “What did you think of his idea?”

  “What did you think, Bob?”

  “I think it sucks,” Bob said. His blue eyes blazed out of his face. “I want to live with you, Mom. We’re the family. You and me and Hitchcock. I like visiting Grandpa but forget it-it’s us, right? Right?”

  “Right,” Nina said. “Don’t worry, honey. Go visit Isaiah and we’ll talk later.”

  She and Paul drove together to the office. Paul hadn’t broached the subject of Bob again, though she felt the pressure of his patience, and Nina had already moved into work mode.

  They stopped at the photo shop to pick up blowups of Wish’s photos, which had come out well, and carried the manila envelopes upstairs to the office. Sandy hadn’t come in-it was visiting hours at the jail-and Paul began telling Nina about his visit to the Robles Vista facility. The director had spent a long time with him and Paul was of the opinion that none of the residents had the physical ability to carry out the arson fire on the hill below them.

  “These people are severely disabled,” Paul said. “Blind or wheelchair bound, almost all of them. One of the blind guys is very independent and works out, but the director thought it would just be impossible. Besides, as he pointed out, to torch their hillside could result in having Robles Vista burn down too. The handicapped facility is right above that model home.”

  “Has Crockett talked to them?”

  “Every resident has been interviewed. I talked to Crockett, and he says none of them could be a suspect, even if he didn’t already have Wish. Most of them seem to be resigned to moving, though there is a great deal of anger and insecurity.”