At Third Street, she veered left, and David, who would normally head north or go straight here, followed. After a brief second of confusion, Johnson was back in front again.
“Do you – ” David began to say. But Janice had started to speak simultaneously. “You first,” he said with a smile.
“You didn’t grow up with money, did you?” she asked.
He considered. “I wouldn’t exactly say that. My folks were up and down. Sometimes we’d be skipping out in the middle of the night, sometimes they were so flush it seemed like the money would never run out. But it usually did. Why?”
“You’re a little off sometimes. Though I don’t mean that bad. You fit in, but you’re educated. You’re nicer than most people who’re educated. I just wanted to know, is all.”
They turned right onto Easton, and David was reminded yet again of why he and Johnson didn’t come down here too often. Broken bottles littered the gutters, the front lawns of decaying apartment buildings were brown, the street itself looked as if it hadn’t been paved in decades.
“I like the park up here,” Janice said. “It’s a nice place to just sit sometimes.”
David kept his reaction off his face. The only park on Easton was Denby Pocket Park, a civic renewal project that had probably needed renewing itself within weeks of its grand opening. “You don’t like the public square?” he asked.
“You mean that chichi park in uptown? No. It’s too big, and I always feel like I don’t belong there. Saw a show once in that theater they got with one of my friends from work, but neither of us could understand a single thing they were saying, so we left.”
David couldn’t help but smile. The Shady Grove Elizabethan Players was an amateur acting society that put on free performances several nights each summer. They were amusing to watch not only for the plays, but for the familiar hams who invariably emoted as if they were strutting the boards on Broadway.
“See? It’s just like the garden back at our building. The right size for a park, and lots of places to sit, too.”
David took in the desolation of Denby Pocket Park. There was plenty of seating, mostly because there were more concrete benches than grassy areas. Two street people were camped in a corner eating their supper out of cans, and at the far end was a huddle of scrawny men, clearly taking care of some sort of iniquitous business.
Janice’s pace didn’t slow, for which David was grateful. The last thing he wanted to do this afternoon was to sit a spell on Easton Avenue while Johnson whimpered because he wasn’t allowed to go off leash.
They began to cross Second Street.
“Heck came down here a lot,” Janice said. “When he was in town.”
David thought it best not to reply.
She glanced over at him. “I’m not an idiot. I know what he did. I never had nothin’ to do with it, though.”
He cleared his throat. “I never would have thought so, Janice. And from what I read in the papers, the police didn’t, either.”
“The police!” she spat out. “That oaf who looks like he slid right out of a magazine so his shit don’t stink. Someone should go off him, see how many folks miss his bull crap!”
David grinned. He’d had a feeling that Janice wouldn’t have developed a fondness for Detective Ormsby.
“At least it didn’t get out what Heck did to me,” she said in a gentler tone. “I appreciate that. You not sayin’ anything and all.”
“I would have had to answer if he’d asked specific questions,” David replied. “But he didn’t.”
She nodded. “Bill left it alone, too.”
“He said he helped you clean up. Was it… awful?”
She emitted a sound that was a cross between a snort and a snicker. “You mean, did it suck, mopping up my boyfriend’s blood and brains off the kitchen floor? Yeah. Bill did all the heavy stuff. I just tried not to cry while I handed him things.”
David drew a long breath as they turned right on First to head north. “Do you… I mean, what happened was terrible. But is there a part of you that… that…”
“That’s glad Heck died?” she finished for him. “Don’t worry, David. You’re not the first to ask. Yes, there’s this part of me that’s happy. A very small part. But if it wasn’t Heck, it would’ve been someone else.”
“You mean, doing that to you?”
She shot him a hard look. “Guys have always beat on me, David. Startin’ with my Dad and my brothers. Maybe it’s the size thing, maybe it’s my hair or my mouth. I don’t know, I’m just used to it, I guess. If they didn’t hit me once in a while, I’d probably start to worry.”
“But – ”
“It’s not normal in your world, is it?” she interrupted.
David couldn’t imagine a world where that kind of thing could be considered normal. “No.” he answered.
“So leave it. I’m not gonna pretend I understand everything about Heck, or men, or life beyond what I know. I have to take what comes my way and do the best I can with it.”
“Do you think those two guys really did it?”
Janice choked out a laugh. “Deke and Thickman? Yeah, they’re capable. Heck was too, if you really want to get down to it. He’d had his share of run-ins with other guys in his business, and I don’t think all of them ended with a handshake and a pat on the back.”
“But why? Just because he owed them money?”
“Heck always owed somebody money. But he always paid it back, too. Maybe they just got impatient. The three of them were… friends, as much as anybody could be in that world. But money is money. If you need it, and somebody else has some of yours, you’re gonna take it.”
They had crossed Piston and Dr. Longworth Avenues. Smithfield was next.
“Why do you think Clair told you to visit your mother?” David asked. And then hurriedly, as she stared at him, “I saw her earlier today. In the courtyard. It came up.” No need to bring Bill into it.
“That girl does say the darndest things,” Janice replied, still studying him. She broke their gaze as they turned onto Smithfield, heading east. “It was a good thing I went, though.”
“Why?”
“My mother had one of her asthmatic fits, about two hours after I got there. Usually my brother Joey – he lives with her – makes sure she has fresh inhalers, but Joey was pullin’ graveyard that night, and she had no idea where anything was. I drove her down to Emergency Care, they pumped her full of Ipratropium or something that sounds a lot like that, and she was back home in an hour.”
“So…” David was almost gawking. “If Clair hadn’t said anything…”
Another dubious look. “Maybe she wouldn’t have been okay, but she probably would have looked a hell of a lot harder for her inhaler if she was the only one in the house!”
“But Janice, it’s such a coincidence that your going out of town that day maybe saved your mother’s life, on top of your not being in Shady Grove during the day Wednesday when it happened!”
“What?” She halted to face him, hands on her hips. Johnson glanced back as he pulled up as well, most likely as entranced by the sight of the indignant kewpie doll as David was. “You really think that little Clair, who’s probably in kindergarten, knew somehow that my mother was going to need to go to the hospital? And that I’d need a good story just in case Heck got knocked off in my apartment a couple days later?”
She glared at him, an eerie echo of Genevieve at her challenging worst. A woman pushing a stroller sidled quickly around them. A car honked twice as it drove by, but neither Janice nor David turned to see if the summons was meant for them.
“She’s in first grade,” David said quietly. “Not kindergarten. And yes, I do think that she knew what would happen to your mother. And maybe to Heck as well. I don’t know why, but I do.”
Janice’s eyes remained obdurate, but her chin rose as she began to bite on the insides of her cheeks. Genevieve no more, she was thinking about it, mulling over the doubts she had experienced herself onc
e the sequence of odd events had run its course.
“It wasn’t the first time she said something like that to me,” Janice said.
“About your mother?” David asked.
Her head shook. “No. She knew I drove up to visit her every few months. She asked me once where I grew up. I’d gone to the garden to see if you were there, and she was there instead, all by herself. We talked a few minutes, and after I asked her where else she’d lived before, she started askin’ about me. I don’t know, I usually shut down when people go there. But she talked just like an adult and yet she was a child, so I guess I felt okay tellin’ her.”
“What was it she said? I mean, that was similar. And… where else had she lived?”
Janice’s eyes went blank for a few seconds, and then she pivoted and began walking again. “Ya know, she never said. I just realized that. How weird.”
They began to cross Second Street.
“It was my friend, Stacey. At The Hot Spot, we usually work the same shifts. Clair saw me as I was leavin’ that night. She was with that strange woman, but she stopped me and took hold of my hand. ‘Wait until she gets on the bus,’ she said in this low, serious voice. And then the woman came forward and they both went upstairs. But that night, as I was headin’ for the trolley after work, I turned ’round and saw Stacey, just sittin’ down to wait for the late bus to Greenville. And what Clair had said started to bother me. Who the hell else could she have meant? So I went and sat with Stacey, and sure enough, a couple minutes later her ex pops out of the bushes, drunk as a coot and in a fightin’ mood to boot. He got all belligerent, but we both just shouted him down till he slunk away. She got on her bus, and I went home and tried not to overthink it all.”
“Did you ever ask Clair what she’d meant?” David asked as they turned right on Third.
“Nope! I didn’t want to find out. But when she did that hand thing again and told me I should visit my mother, I knew I’d be going. No doubt, no delay.”
And as had happened at the beginning of their walk, the pair then lapsed into silence. Johnson appeared unaware of the absence of conversation, continuing to drive forward with the same eagerness he’d displayed throughout their saunter through southern Shady Grove. They crossed Dr. Longworth Avenue, and then turned left onto Piston. The Rainbow Arms was a block and a half away, then a block, and then, as they traversed Fifth, a few hundred feet.
Janice stopped walking before they entered the lobby. David and Johnson halted as well.
“I want to thank you,” she said. She was looking up at him, her expression somber and sincere.
“For what?” David signaled for Johnson to sit, which the dog did obediently.
“For being kind. For listenin’ to me.”
“It’s nothing you don’t do with me,” he replied with a smile.
“You never talk about yourself,” Janice said. “I mean, you do, but you always shift right out of it and then turn the attention to me again. Most guys, they… Well, they don’t give a shit about nobody but themselves. So that’s it. I just wanted to say thanks.”
David reached toward her to place his hand on her arm. “Janice. There’s no need to thank me. Truly. I always enjoy talking with you. I just hope that this whole thing that happened – ”
Johnson had risen and barked, twice. David’s hand fell to his side as both he and Janice turned toward the street, where a dark blue Volkswagen Passat had just pulled up. The window was rolling down.
“Shit,” David muttered as he caught sight of Genevieve’s angry visage inside the vehicle.
“What? She doesn’t think…” Janice began to say, but David was already striding toward the car, Johnson tugging him forward.
“Hell – ” he almost managed to say, but Genevieve overrode him.
“I called you. Twice. I texted you, three times. Let me guess. Yet again, you have absolutely no idea where your phone is.”
David automatically patted his pocket, but she was correct: his phone hadn’t gone along on the walk. “Is anything wrong?” he asked. “What happened?”
Her face tensed, and she must have accidentally touched the accelerator, for the car jerked forward a few inches before the brakes were stomped.
“Nothing is wrong!” she exclaimed. “I just thought I’d drop by and take you out to dinner! But obviously, you’re busy.”
“No!” David leaned toward her, almost placed his hands on the passenger side doorframe, but then thought better of it. “We just took a walk. With Johnson. That was all!”
“And that’s exactly what it looked like,” Genevieve snapped. “I always make sure to end my walks with a caress or two as well. Have a good evening, you two!”
And then she hit the gas pedal deliberately, flooring the Volkswagen so hard that the brakes practically screamed when she had to slam on them at the end of the block. She veered right on Fifth, and was out of sight in less than a second.
Janice had stepped forward until she was a few feet behind David. “Was that for real?” she asked quietly.
He turned and nodded. “She can get like that. Must have been a long day for her at work.”
Janice pursed her lips. “I’ll trade jobs with her any day,” she murmured.
David had to resist the urge to reach toward her again. Underneath Janice’s rigid exterior he could sense anger, disdain, disbelief, and a small dash of guilt. “We didn’t do anything wrong,” he said to her. “I’ve always told her, we just talk.”
Her eyes locked onto his. “I know it, you know it, God knows it.” And then her head began to shake from side to side. “But none of that means a thing if she’s got the wrong idea stuck up top.”
“I’ll talk to her.” David looked down at the sidewalk. “I’ll talk to her.”
Chapter Eighteen
David didn’t talk to Genevieve on Sunday night. He found his phone in the most obvious place it could be, charging atop his computer desk, and after feeding Johnson, he read her texts and listened to her messages. An hour and a half later, having allowed to elapse what he considered a reasonable cooling-off period, he tried calling her, but she didn’t answer. He decided not to leave a message.
Sunday was the hardest day of the week for Genevieve. Gâteaupia was open Tuesday through Sunday, so it was her sixth consecutive workday. And while the store’s busiest day was Saturday, Sunday was when she did payroll, managed the upcoming specialty orders, and dealt with baking supplies, and tax forms, and the four hundred other miscellaneous chores a small business owner had to juggle.
Sunday night was not usually David’s favorite opportunity to spend time with Genevieve.
And her dismissive rudeness regarding Janice… it must have been an exceptionally stressful day at the bakery for her to lash out as she had. David had to admit that it probably looked funny, him with his hand on Janice’s arm as they faced each other in front of the Rainbow Arms. But seriously, if he were conducting nefarious double-dealings with other women, wouldn’t he have been intelligent enough to do so behind closed doors?
Janice had asked if she should call Genevieve, to at least leave her a message clarifying how she and David had arrived at that moment. But David had demurred, knowing full well how delighted an exhausted Genevieve would be to hear Janice on her voicemail.
At eight, having had quite enough of staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, David rose and, along with Johnson, made his way through the courtyard to Bill’s cottage. He knocked on the front door.
“Open!” was shouted from inside. David and Johnson entered.
“Heyyuh. C’mon in ’n sit a spell. Game’s on. Cubs’re eatin’ it, big time.”
Johnson trotted right up to Bill, who grunted as he leaned forward in his easy chair to run a hand along Johnson’s head. “Hey there, dog. How ya doing, Johnson, ole fella?”
Bill was much drunker than David was used to seeing. He felt in his pocket for his watch, but both it and his phone were still in the apartment. Besides, he knew that it was only
a couple minutes after eight.
“Ya want one? Still a few in the fridge. C’mon, have a sheat.”
David took in the scatter of empty beer cans on the floor beside Bill’s chair. And then he shut the door behind him, headed to the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator. A box of pizza, two apples, and five cans of Miller Genuine Draft stared back at him.
“Bring me ’nother?” was called out from the front room.
“How about an apple?” David returned. “This pizza looks good.” He poked open the top of the box and grimaced; it looked like a puddle of congealed fat slathered over a cutting board.
“Just the beer!” was shouted back with a touch of distemper.
“Got it.” David grabbed two cans, and handed one to Bill on his way to his usual chair. “Who’s playing?”
“Cubs ’n D-backs.” Bill cracked open the beer. “Arizona’s killin’ ’em. Eighth innin’, no chance in hell they’re comin’ back.” He tilted his head, and appeared to drain most of the can in one swig.
David thought about not drinking any – Bill would most likely blow through the rest of his stash in the next half hour – but one less beer wouldn’t kill Bill, and David needed a touch of something to alleviate his irritation. He popped his top, and gulped down a quarter of the can.
“Good, ain’t it? Turned the fridge down to the freeze my nuts off settin’ to get the Miller jus’ right.”
David loved it. The cold brew was exactly what he needed after a couple hours of dry reflection.
“So… gotta ask ya somethin’, David.” Bill lifted his remote and lowered the volume of the game.
“Fire away. Just don’t ask for any advice about women.”
Bill guffawed, and an explosion of suds sailed out of his mouth to splatter his pants. He didn’t seem to notice. “Those days is done ’n gone. Done ’n gone, my friend. Old Bill’s partaken of his last partakin’. Sad but true.” His beer rose again as if to salute this.
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