The Blue Hour

by Richard Teleky

  “I’m just not sure this adds up. You’d think it would have happened more than once, and, I don’t know, it sounded like Guy was attracted to his father – something out of Freud.”

  “Screw Freud, I wasn’t there. And I’ve never been a teenage boy. My old man sure didn’t turn me on but he had a cute younger brother. Dead now from the booze, but he was cute back then. I loved it when we played badminton and he took his shirt off.”

  She lost me, and I tried to remember Guy as a teenager. A gawky quiet kid, often with his nose in a sci-fi book, or out in the woods behind their house. Didn’t Hedy once say he’d been teased at school because of their diet and the lunches she packed for him? Maybe bullied, too. And then, after a campout with his father, he’d seen how his body worked, and felt more isolated than before.

  “No wonder Guy always seemed withdrawn. I wish he could have told someone sooner.”

  “Who, for instance? I’d love to hear Lady Hedda’s reaction. That ought to be something,” she chuckled.

  “I’m sure she didn’t know…”

  “That’s what you want to think,” Sheila interrupted.

  “She does believe some pretty odd things. Not just all her past-lives stuff, we don’t need to go there, though she’s big on ‘soul history’ – that’s what she calls it.”

  “No shit.” She stubbed out the cigarette butt and pushed the pack away from herself. “There could be something to karma, you know. I must have been a real ball-breaker in my last life, and I’m paying for it now.”

  “That time the police came to the mall, after Guy died, did you talk with them?”

  “I said I hadn’t seen Guy, he hadn’t called me. That’s all.”

  “Why didn’t you tell them about Nick? You believed Guy.”

  “The cops are idiots. What good have they ever done me? They probably would’ve thought I was making it up, and Guy wasn’t around to defend himself.”

  We weren’t getting anywhere like this. “Tell me more about Guy’s neighbors, the ones…”

  “There’s not much to tell. They have an old boxer that wakes them several times during the night to go out to pee, and they noticed the light was still on in Guy’s basement. I don’t know what time it was.”

  “Who notices things like that?”

  “Well, they did. You can only watch a dog pee for so long. What are you getting at?”

  “Nothing adds up, that’s all. Guy’s dead, and Neil Breuler was his boyfriend, or something like that, and you tell me Guy was abused by his father…”

  “I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

  “I’m glad you told me. But it changes everything.”

  “How?”

  Sheila wouldn’t want to hear about my friendship puzzles, or Aristotle. And while I still wondered if Guy’s accusation was the work of an over-eager therapist, she wouldn’t have listened to doubt.

  “Do you figure Nick’s really gay?” she asked.

  “No, that’s not what this is about. I just can’t make any sense of it.”

  “Well, a lot of married men swing both ways, and if they cheat on their wives it’s probably easier with a guy who won’t make demands, or want to settle down. Any warm hole will do.”

  “I wouldn’t put it quite that way, Sheila. You never mince words.”

  “At least I don’t bother with married men anymore, I’m immune. But your friends, I told you, they’re idiots.”

  When I didn’t reply at once, she said, “I forgot about the coffee. Want some now?” In the same breath she stood up, filled two mugs and brought them to the table, which was covered by a faded cloth embroidered with cherries.

  “Neil came to see me, in my office,” I said, reaching for a mug.

  “What for?”

  “He knows that Guy’s parents are old friends of mine, and I think he was curious if they’d heard about him. From Guy or the police. He’s in the middle of a divorce.”

  “Guy wouldn’t have talked about him,” Sheila observed. “What does Theo say?”

  “I didn’t tell him that Neil dropped by.”

  Sheila nodded. “Some day Theo’s going to stop being depressed and he’ll start to scream and never stop. They’ll have to cart him off screaming.”

  “He’s not that bad.” I wouldn’t mention Neil’s hunch that Theo had once followed him to Guy’s place.

  “If you say so.” She dismissed my comment with a wave of hand.

  “But today Daphne Eliades invited me to lunch. She’s getting married again.”

  “Does he have money?”

  “Maybe she likes the guy, I didn’t ask. He has houses in Bay Village and Florida.”

  “That’s what I need, someone well-off.” She shook her head in mock despair.

  “She’s worried about how Theo will take it.”

  Laughing, Sheila reached for her cigarettes, touched the pack and then pushed it away. “You mean she doesn’t want him to move in with them? But he’s selling his house, isn’t he?”

  “That’s the problem.”

  “We’ve all got our problems. You haven’t asked about Brad.”

  “Has something happened?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “You always say that, Sheila.”

  We stared at each other for a few seconds.

  “Alright then,” she said. “They couldn’t find a fingerprint match with Loretta, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t leave the crap. And she’s still waking me in the middle of the night, so I unplug my phone. I told Mother to call my cell if there’s an emergency. The cops can’t do a thing without evidence, and probably don’t want to spend the time or money. I’m small fry, remember. If someone was phoning the president of the college in the middle of the night, they’d know who it was. And I’m scared. The idea that someone hates me so much, so much they’ll stay up all hours…”

  “Have you heard from Brad?”

  “I’m thinking of selling his golf clubs. They have to be worth something.”

  “Did you tell him that?”

  “We haven’t talked in a week. I’ve got to admit it’s over, but I can’t.”

  “You will, Sheila. Just give it time. You’re a strong person – look how you take care of yourself.” I refrained from adding, “You’re better off without him.”

  “You don’t know what it’s like,” she said. “I’m still in love.”

  She was locked in a bad torch song, but again I kept my tongue. I was past torch songs.

  “That’s the heart of it,” she said with a sigh.

  15

  Saturday, May 26

  I woke at five and couldn’t sleep again. Last night Hedy phoned and we planned to meet for lunch. Apprehensive, I wasn’t ready to see them. Sheila’s account of Guy’s confession had left me at a loss. I wanted to confront Nick, yet it would mean the end of our friendship. Maybe there’s a little cop in all of us, an accuser, and I’d rather be detached.

  Now that Guy had been dead for six weeks, Hedy hoped to draw Nick out of himself. To start, there was a promising estate sale in Oberlin, and she insisted that he come along with her. Afterward we’d meet at a restaurant they liked. She also asked me to hand over Guy’s keys to his landlady so that they wouldn’t have to see the house again. A small request, I’d arranged to meet her there at ten o’clock, and was glad for one last go at Guy’s place.

  It was a clear bright morning, already too warm for May. In this part of the state people used to caution against putting in tomato plants before Memorial Day, because of late frost. Not this year. My garden looked tired, it couldn’t stand the relentless ninety-plus heat. Before heading to Guy’s I felt my pocket for his keys. Once again I didn’t know what I was looking for.

  Fortunately Helen Wheeler hadn’t yet arrived and I had time to walk through the house by myself. I checked the closets, cupboards, even the drawers in the kitchen, and all were empty, as I’d left them. A broom with a yellow plastic handle rested against the bathroom do
or, so she must have been by. Goodwill had picked up Guy’s furniture, and he might never have lived here. The only proof remained in the police photographs taken before they removed his body.

  Back in the living room I tried to imagine what Guy might have felt when he moved into the house. I recalled my own first apartment and the sense of euphoria that accompanied it. I was angry for Guy. Only a month ago he would have begun his day here, made his plans, dreamed about the future. He hadn’t fallen down in the basement, I was certain of that. He’d been arguing, he’d been pushed; someone had been with him. Even the police called his death “undetermined”.

  I heard footsteps on the porch stairs and went to the front door, where a woman in her seventies, with cropped gray hair, stood waiting. “Mrs. Wheeler?” I asked.

  “That’s me.” She carried a pail in one hand and a large plastic bag in the other.

  I explained again that I was a friend of Guy’s parents.

  “I remember,” she said. “I’ve still got a good memory.”

  Her no-nonsense manner suggested a short fuse. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

  “Yes, you did, but that’s okay. I’m used to it.”

  This was an opportunity I didn’t want to miss. “Did you know Guy well?”

  “I don’t get to know my tenants, I mind my own business as long as they pay their rent on time. He seemed nice enough.” She set down the pail and the plastic bag. “I’ve never found a dead body before. It’s frightening, you know. He’s my first dead tenant. You can’t forget something like that. You think you’ve seen everything but it’s not true. I certainly didn’t like finding those bullets on his shelves.”

  “They were Civil War bullets,” I said, as if that might make a difference.

  “Bullets are bullets.”

  “I believe you’re friends with Doris Carney. Her daughter, Sheila, does my gardening.”

  “We’re in a bridge group together. We’re the best players.”

  Here was my opening. “And your other tenants? The ones across the street…”

  “You heard about them? They look out for me. When I rent to someone I don’t want anyone else moving in without my permission. The water bill goes up…”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.” Our voices seemed to echo in the empty living room. “Is there anything I should tell my friends? What about Guy’s security deposit?”

  “I’m keeping that. I had a lease with him and…”

  “But he didn’t break it, he died.”

  “All the same, I have to find new tenants. It’s hard to rent a place where someone has died, I have to advertise all over again. And what about his car? It’s still in the garage.”

  No one, in fact, had remembered Guy’s car. And his bicycle must be there as well.

  “He’s paid up to the end of the month,” she added brusquely. “You’ve got till then.”

  Five more days. Plenty of time to move the car. I finished my Saturday errands, trying not to think about Guy. Nick and Hedy had already taken a corner table at Aladdin’s when I got to the restaurant. Their window overlooked the common where they’d first met, and, more than three decades later, might have seen their son plead with a boyfriend not to drop him. “Am I late?”

  “We just got here ourselves,” she said.

  There was something about Hedy’s face that seemed, well, noble. Not just refined or classic, but noble. Nick had an aspect of this as well, but in a lesser degree. It was always a pleasure to look at them, and I suspect they’d enjoyed my admiration and no longer felt it. Today her face had more color than the last time we met, and her hair seemed several shades darker, as if recently dyed. She wore a navy cotton pullover with a silver broach in the shape of a floral wreath pinned several inches below the neckline, not strictly mourning clothes yet sedate. She had, however, put on the turquoise eye shadow that Nick liked. She was hell bent on normalcy, and ordinarily I would have considered it touching.

  “You look great,” I said, pulling back a chair. “And you too, Nick. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m better now. Thanks to Hedy.” He reached for her hand.

  His olive complexion still had a grayish tinge. “No more chest pains?”

  “Not a one.”

  “He’s recovered completely,” Hedy said, her voice full of pride. “Like I knew he would. Even the doctors are impressed.”

  I had to watch myself. It wasn’t possible to look at Nick without Sheila’s words echoing in my mind. Spoil him for marriage had taken on a life of its own.

  “I’ve been anticipating this all morning,” Hedy said, without opening her menu. For the first time since Guy’s death the copper healing bracelets were back on her wrists, though she didn’t mention being in pain. Aladdin’s was one of the few places in town where my friends could find a vegetarian meal that suited them, and they knew the menu by heart.

  “Was it a good sale?” I asked.

  “Nothing special,” she said brightly.

  “But it’s been a good morning,” Nick agreed. “Though I couldn’t put a flag out for Memorial Day, I’m too upset about what’s happening to my country. The Constitution means nothing to most people.”

  Guy had died, he’d been in the army, yet that wasn’t reason enough for flag waving.

  “Now we’ve heard…” he continued.

  I sat back and listened to a convoluted lament about the media’s slavish attention to Queen Elizabeth’s Diamond Jubilee. After all, she belonged to a powerful group of investors who, along with the United Nations, were working to undermine America’s global influence; there may even have been a connection to 9/ll. How far can an overwrought imagination go? Though I hated the widening chasm between us, their conspiracy theories took more patience than I had. At times I’d wondered what Nick and Hedy would come up with next, but today it no longer mattered. “Where did you hear all of this?” I asked. “It’s not in any newspaper I read.”

  “Of course not,” Hedy said defiantly.

  “Then where did you read otherwise?”

  “I’ve told you before, I don’t have to name my sources.”

  “We have our sources, too,” Nick said, in duet.

  The Antons were my friends and I didn’t want to dismiss them as crackpots. Again, it seemed they needed to bait me, as if my resistance somehow proved them orphans in the storm. I nearly asked if they were as pleased with themselves as they appeared. Yet I wouldn’t let go of our friendship, and this was my own fault, my problem – and really foolish at my age.

  “Let’s talk about something else,” I suggested. “It’s difficult when we have different facts. I know I’ve said that before.”

  “A lot of people think the way we do,” Nick replied. “You’ll see, this fall. I can’t wait for the election.”

  “It’s like a plague of despair,” I said. “All this fear and anger.”

  Half of the country hated the sitting president, and the other half loathed his rival.

  “We want our country back,” Nick said softly.

  “I know that, but finding meaning in life is trickier than politics…”

  “We’re not searching for the meaning of life,” Hedy replied. “Not with our values. We already know what matters.”

  For a few minutes we ate in an awkward silence, their expressions indicating that I’d gone too far, I’d dared to object, to challenge them.

  “This morning I gave the house keys to Mrs. Wheeler,” I told them, hoping to change the subject for good. “And it occurred to me that I never saw Guy’s computer or his cell phone when I packed up his place. But the night he’d shown me around they were there, I remember his cell phone on the kitchen table. Did the police take them?”

  “Yes,” Hedy said coolly. “They dropped them off last week.”

  “Then there was nothing useful on them…”

  “Useful?” asked Nick.

  “A lead about the people Guy knew…”

  “We told them everything,” Hedy said. “Th
ey even wanted to contact Guy’s doctor, but he didn’t have one – he was never sick, he used ours if he needed one.”

  “Did you ever hear of someone named Neil Breuler?”

  Both looked at me cautiously but appeared unfamiliar with the name.

  “Neil Breuler,” I repeated.

  “Who is he?” Hedy asked tentatively.

  “He works at the college, in security. He knew Guy. I saw them together on the common a couple nights before Guy died. It was starting to rain and Guy was on his bike.” I thought to add that they’d appeared to be arguing but didn’t want to press my luck.

  Hedy shook her head. “Guy never mentioned him.”

  “He was making new friends,” I suggested quickly. “You have to do that in a new town.”

  Nick nodded. “Guy had been saving up for his own place. He was so excited about it.”

  “Have you heard from the woman he was dating?”

  “No,” Hedy said. “We didn’t expect to.”

  I wondered if Guy had made her up, a cover to deflect their curiosity – another thing I wouldn’t say. And I certainly couldn’t ask if Nick had molested his son, not here, casually, over a plate of hummus: “Would you please pass the pita, and by the way, did you abuse Guy?” I could hardly ask that.

  “I don’t even remember her name,” Hedy said. “And I don’t want to think about it. Let’s just enjoy our lunch. It’s been a long time since I’ve had an appetite.”

  Nick had turned towards the window, a vacant expression on his face. Should I remind them that Guy’s car and bike were still in his rented garage?

  “We love the fried eggplant here,” Hedy said.

  Of course it had never occurred to me to search the trunk of Guy’s car, or the glove compartment, but I assumed the police had been more thorough.

  16

  Memorial Day, May 28

  “So you didn’t learn anything new?” Sheila asked. “You should have tried harder.”