by Gerald Elias
Jacobus had counted nineteen steps going up the stairs, but in his musings on the way down he lost track. The lurch back into the present caused him to misstep. He grasped for the bannister, but because it was curved and polished, and because he had the damn check in his hand, his grip didn’t hold. He began to stumble, and unaccustomed to holding his cane in his left hand, he was unable to regain his balance. At the last instant, he felt Connie Jean’s hand on his back and he reached out to grab it but the angle was too awkward. Releasing the cane and the envelope so that he could use his hands to protect himself, Jacobus fell. He rolled to the bottom of the stairs, landing heavily on the marble floor. His cane clattered down after him.
‘What’s happened?’ Charles Hedge called from the top of the stairs.
‘Mr Jacobus has fallen. I think he’s hurt,’ Connie Jean said.
‘Well, call the hospital. I suppose.’
THIRTEEN
He hadn’t hit his head. That was the only body part for which he could make that claim, a conclusion his bruised body confirmed as he attempted to shift position in the hospital bed. He hadn’t lost consciousness but wished he had. His ankle throbbed and his chest felt as if Nathaniel was standing on it. They took X-rays and gave him painkillers, which made him doze. When he awoke, they summoned a doctor to his room.
‘Mr Jacobus, I’m Dr Simons. I’ve got some good news and some bad news for you,’ he said.
‘Just give me the good news and leave,’ Jacobus replied.
‘I’m glad to see you still have a sense of humor.’
‘Who’s joking?’
Unable to think of a response, Simons simply snorted.
‘Amazingly enough,’ Simons continued, ‘X-rays revealed no broken bones. Bruised ribs, a badly sprained ankle. Plenty of black and blue. But that won’t keep you laid up long.’
Jacobus replayed the entire stairway sequence over and over in his head.
Simons cleared his throat.
‘You still here?’ Jacobus asked.
‘There’s another thing.’
‘I’ve missed lunch?’
‘If only. Let me ask you a question, Mr Jacobus. Were you ever a smoker?’
‘Cigarettes and salamis. My doc gave me a choice of quitting one of them.’
‘I’ll get straight to the point, Mr Jacobus. Chest X-rays picked up a not insignificant growth on your left lung. It could be totally benign. It might be something else. I would recommend we do a biopsy right—’
‘No biopsy.’
‘But in order to—’
‘I said no biopsy.’
‘It’s just standard—’
‘Are you deaf? No biopsy and if you violate doctor–patient confidentiality I’ll get your license revoked. Not a word leaves this room. Do you understand?’
‘If you insist.’
‘I insist. Now give me some more pills and get the hell out of here.’
The next time he awoke, Yumi was at his side.
‘Hey,’ she said. ‘Welcome back to the world. How are you feeling?’
‘Like I’ve died and come back to shit.’
‘Always accentuating the positive.’ She handed him a glass of water, which he sipped, drooled some, choked on the rest, and handed back to her.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.
‘I heard you’d been causing trouble again, so I cancelled the rest of my students and came over. Anything I can get you?’ she asked.
‘Scotch on the rocks.’
‘Soon enough. Dr Simons said they just need to keep you overnight for observation and should be able to release you tomorrow, barring any unforeseen complications.’
‘Is that all he said?’
‘No.’
‘What else?’ Jacobus felt his bile rising.
‘Since nothing was broken,’ Yumi replied, ‘he said it didn’t matter whether you’re in misery here or at home.’
Jacobus relaxed. ‘That’s comforting.’
‘And that you won’t be able to walk on your ankle for a while. They didn’t think giving you crutches would be a good idea—’
‘Why not?’
‘They don’t think you have the strength, and if you fell on it again you’d be out of commission for a long time.’
‘Well, if you think I’m going to rot in bed—’
‘They’re giving you a wheelchair.’
Though Jacobus had been blind for decades it had only been in recent years he used a cane. And now he couldn’t even walk. No eyes. No legs. And soon maybe no lungs. Jacobus considered how many more parts he could afford to lose before surrendering his independence. But he still had his ears. And his mouth, which he opened, protest perched on his lips.
‘And before you say another word,’ Yumi said, ‘we’re going to find someone to wheel you around until you’re back on your feet.’
There was a knock at the door.
‘Hey, Mr Jacobus, it’s me. Chase Anderson. From Chops? Heard you were here, so I ducked out of the laundry room for a minute. How are we doing?’
‘How the hell would I know how we are doing? You just walked in!’
Anderson laughed.
‘That’s just how they teach us. “How are we doing?” “Are we fasting today?” “Are we ready for some applesauce?” Hospital speak.’
‘In that case,’ Jacobus said, ‘we would be doing a lot better had we not fallen down a staircase. Class dismissed.’
‘No problemo, but I thought you might want to know I got hold of Professor Schlossberg’s death certificate.’
‘Then have a seat, young man,’ Jacobus said, ‘and test out your bedside manner. How did you manage that trick?’
‘Simple. I asked to see it.’
‘Ah. The direct approach. And?’
‘I brought a copy. It looks a lot like my college loan form.’
‘Such as?’
‘Legal name, sex, social security number, age, date of birth, birthplace, address, father’s name—’
‘Young man, is there anything in the certificate that might be worth my few remaining moments on earth?’
‘There’s the cause of death and the manner of death.’
‘What’s the difference?’ Yumi asked.
‘Hey, I just learned that in class! Cause of death is the disease or injury that was responsible for the death, like if someone was stabbed in the heart or was in a car accident.’
‘Or lung cancer?’ Jacobus asked.
‘Or lung cancer. Manner of death are the general circumstances. Lung cancer would be considered natural. Stabbed in the heart would probably be homicide. There’s also suicide, accident, therapeutic complications – like if Mr Jacobus died of an infection from his sprained ankle. If they’re not sure, they call it “pending investigation.”’
‘And what does Schlossberg’s death certificate say?’
‘The cause of death – that’s number 32, Part 1a – says “immediate cause, renal and hepatic failure.” Part 1b says “cirrhosis of the liver, advanced kidney disease.” Part 1c says “complications due to diabetes.” Y’see, it starts with the specific and gets more general. The manner of death – that’s number 37 – the box checked is “natural.”’
‘So we were wrong, Jake,’ Yumi said. ‘Maybe we were just being overly suspicious.’
Jacobus appreciated Yumi’s use of the word ‘we.’ In a way, he was relieved that there would be no mystery surrounding Schlossberg’s death. He had had enough of the Kinderhoek Conservatory and was happy enough to get out alive.
‘Probably, but not necessarily,’ Chase said.
‘Meaning?’ Jacobus asked.
‘Death certificates are issued real quick. They’re mainly so that the family can bury their relatives and insurance companies can start processing claims. They don’t always tell the whole story. At least that’s what I learned in class.’
‘Where does one get the “whole story”?’ Jacobus asked. ‘Or is that next semester?’
�
�I’d have to get the coroner’s report for that,’ Chase said. ‘That might not be so easy.’
‘But there wasn’t any autopsy. He was six feet under before the bagels were even defrosted.’
‘A coroner’s report isn’t an autopsy. In fact, a lot of coroners aren’t even doctors. Coroners can be elected or appointed. Some are sheriffs or funeral home directors. And then there are the medical examiners, who usually are medical doctors but aren’t necessarily forensic pathologists trained in death investigation. It’s very confusing.’
‘Think you can find the coroner’s report?’ Jacobus asked.
‘I’ll do my best. Fortunately, 4C spring break is this week so I’ll have some time on my hands.’
Yumi had an idea.
‘Would you like to make some extra cash during your break?’ she asked.
‘Are you kidding?’ he said. ‘How?’
‘Pushing an old blind man around in a wheelchair.’
After Chase left, Yumi told Jacobus she needed to leave to reschedule her students. The conservatory required teachers to give each student fourteen hours of lessons per semester, and with the end of the year quickly approaching, along with juries and senior recitals, she was in danger of falling behind.
‘How many did you end up teaching today?’ Jacobus asked.
‘Just two, including Mia Cheng, who you heard last week.’
‘The Mendelssohn girl. With the mercenary parents.’
‘Yes, that’s the one.’
‘Talented. A little kiss-ass, but talented. How did she do?’
‘Today? Not very well. She’s usually totally focused. Today she couldn’t concentrate and had memory slips all over the place. Maybe it was the week off.’
That didn’t sound like the MO of the student he had heard.
‘Yeah. Maybe.’
Jacobus had a thought.
‘She a friend of Dunster’s student? The Rollins girl?’
‘I think so. They were assigned to play a Haydn quartet together last semester. Why?’
‘Might be worth a chat with her. Two violin students, strangely unhappy.’
‘Lots of violin students are unhappy. Look at all of yours.’
‘The reasons for that are perfectly reasonable. I said, strangely unhappy.’
There was a knock at the door.
‘Ye who enter—,’ Jacobus called out.
‘Good God, Jacobus!’ It was Lilburn, bursting in. ‘What have you gotten yourself into this time?’
It was a thought-provoking question, for which Jacobus had no ready answer.
‘Word is out that Hedge gave you the old heave-ho,’ Lilburn continued.
‘In more ways than one, maybe,’ Jacobus said.
‘What do you mean …? No, you can’t think he intentionally pushed you down the stairs!’
‘Not him. His harpy.’
‘Connie Jean Hawkins?’ Yumi asked. ‘She wouldn’t do anything like that.’
‘No? She handed me my check in my right hand even though I was holding my cane with it and my left hand was free. Why did she do that? I wonder. When I lost my balance she did reach out to me, though to be very honest I’m not a hundred percent sure whether it was to rescue me or to give me a little nudge. I can’t say it was intentional, but I can’t say it was unintentional, either.’
‘Jake,’ Yumi said, ‘I just can’t imagine her doing that. Even I wouldn’t have done something like that, and I’ve known you a lot longer.’
‘Don’t make me laugh,’ Jacobus said. ‘I’m too sore.’
‘I suppose you’re sore in more ways than one, also,’ Lilburn said. ‘As they say, no good deed goes unpunished.’
‘News travels fast, eh?’
‘Elwood Dunster couldn’t restrain himself. That’s how I found out you’d been raked over the coals. He’s the last one I interviewed, but I suppose everyone on the faculty knows by now.’
‘I suppose I won’t be bestowed with an honorary doctorate in the foreseeable future. Did your interviewees provide any interesting morsels about Schlossberg?’
‘He’s already had two biographies written about him,’ Lilburn said, ‘so, if I may quip, most of his life is an open book.’
Neither Jacobus nor Yumi laughed. Lilburn cleared his throat and continued.
‘Of course, I spoke to Sybil Baker-Hulme first. She has been the true stalwart in all this. Iron Lady Two, I call her. Not only is she in mourning for her husband, she told me the chamber music conductor, Tawroszewicz, is considering suing her for causing him gastric distress last week.’
‘But those weren’t her mushrooms. They were her husband’s!’ Yumi said. ‘She had nothing to do with it.’
‘Tell that to the lawyers,’ Jacobus said. ‘Maybe they’ll understand the difference between a musicologist and a mycologist, though I doubt it. Did Tawroszewicz corroborate that?’
‘I did interview him,’ Lilburn said. ‘There was clearly no love lost between him and Schlossberg.’
‘You mean between him and Sybil,’ corrected Jacobus.
‘No, I mean Aaron Schlossberg. Tawroszewicz described Schlossberg as a “condescending bastard,” quote unquote. He seems to feel that way about the entire academic side of the faculty, Sybil not excepting. I think maybe he was disgruntled that Schlossberg had composed a piece for just about everyone on the faculty except for him. I chalk it up to professional jealousy.’
Jacobus was not sure what to think. ‘He and Schlossberg seemed pretty gruntled to me at the equinox party.’
‘Maybe they were merely putting on a good face for the stranger in town.’
‘Maybe. Anything else uninteresting you found out?’ Jacobus asked.
‘Not much. I did speak to Harold Handy, the music historian—’
‘Another one who doesn’t seem to like Sybil.’
‘Yes. But he had great admiration for Schlossberg. Felt he had an excellent grasp of the relationship between the history and aesthetics of music, which informed his own compositions. He was greatly looking forward to Anwar and Yitzhak, which, alas, in all likelihood will never see the light of day.’
‘Pity,’ said Jacobus and almost believed it.
‘What might be of interest to your particular inquiry,’ Lilburn continued, ‘was that Handy implied that Schlossberg’s grasp was not only of music.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning that Schlossberg wasn’t averse to caressing young ladies’ derrieres. Handy didn’t come right out and say it, but the innuendo was quite clear. He had a gleam in his eye when he said that Schlossberg had a “hands-on approach” to teaching. I suspect he didn’t want to state anything for the record that the Widow Sybil could later sue him for. Knowing their strained relationship, I could imagine that would be a real concern.’
There was a knock at the door.
‘Ye who enter—,’ Jacobus called out.
‘How are we feeling?’ a nurse asked.
A woman, and a young one, Jacobus guessed, whose voice was too cheery for his taste.
‘Not sure,’ Jacobus said. ‘You’ll have to feel me and then I’ll feel you.’
‘Jake,’ Yumi said. ‘That’s disgusting.’
‘That’s OK,’ the nurse said. ‘I think Mr Jacobus is cute.’
‘Now that’s disgusting,’ Jacobus said.
‘I’ll second that,’ Lilburn said. ‘I’m heading back to the city. I might be back up in a day or two. Call me if you need anything, Jacobus.’
Yumi also had to leave, as she had a Harmonium rehearsal the next morning.
‘I’m sure you’ll be in good hands with the nurse,’ she said.
FOURTEEN
Tuesday, March 31
Jacobus had long since eschewed the tray of what the nurse referred to as breakfast, and still Chase Anderson had not arrived. A lilac-scented breeze wafting through his open window proclaimed a beautiful spring morning. He was antsy to get his ass out of bed and leave the hospital and dispel the dispiriting thoughts of
cancer and the premonition of death that went with it. Death in itself didn’t bother him a bit. How many times had he even yearned for it? But a long, slow death in a hospital? Chemo? Radiation? Hospital food? He would rather be hit by a train.
Under normal circumstances Jacobus would have taken that train back to New York City, but with his bum ankle it was more than impractical. He was trapped. Yumi’s Harmonium schedule made it impossible for her to drive up to Kinnetonka Crossing, and Nathaniel’s Volkswagen Rabbit was in its death throes at the mechanic’s, duct tape notwithstanding. Lilburn offered Jacobus’s sole hope. He had called Jacobus to tell him he was on his way back to campus to conduct more interviews and would be there at least overnight.
‘Don’t you have a deadline?’ Jacobus had asked Lilburn.
‘With a retrospective, my editor gives me some flexibility. Deadlines for the dead aren’t nearly as pressing as concert reviews of living, breathing, curly-haired maestros.’
They arranged to meet at the inn that afternoon, and Jacobus would get a ride back to the city with him the next day.
Jacobus, cursing Anderson’s tardiness, inched his body to the side of the bed. Leveraging most of his weight on his uninjured leg, he tested the waters with his sprained ankle, tightly wrapped with an Ace bandage. When his foot made contact with the ground, Jacobus howled in pain. There was a knock at the door.
‘Are we still hurting?’ the nurse asked, with a smiley, pouty voice, as if she were talking to a toddler.
‘I’d say we’re about ready to kill someone,’ Jacobus said, through gritted teeth.
‘Well, don’t you worry. We’ll be feeling better in a jiffy. Let’s hop you into your wheelchair because there’s someone special waiting for you in the lobby who can’t wait to see you!’
‘Are we ready to go?’ Chase Anderson asked when Jacobus emerged from the elevator.
‘One of us may not survive this day,’ Jacobus said.
‘Goodbye, Mr Jacobus,’ the nurse said after he had been discharged. ‘And don’t forget our RICE.’
‘Rice is going to get our ankle better?’ he asked, thoroughly perplexed.
‘R is for rest. We want to rest our ankle and not put any weight on it. I is for ice to keep down the swelling. C is for compression because we don’t want our ligaments to stretch any more. And E is for—’