Traynor found Werner Van Slyke in his windowless cubbyhole that served as the engineering/maintenance department’s office. Traynor had never been particularly comfortable around Van Slyke. Van Slyke was too quiet, too much of a loner, and mildly unkempt. Traynor also found Van Slyke physically intimidating; he was several inches taller than Traynor and significantly huskier, with the kind of bulky muscles that suggested weightlifting was a hobby.
“I want to see the lights in the parking lots,” Traynor said.
“Now?” Van Slyke asked, without the usual rise in the pitch of his voice that normal people use when asking questions. Every word he said was flat and it grated on Traynor’s ears.
“I had a little free time,” Traynor explained. “I want to make sure it’s adequate.”
Van Slyke pulled on a yellow slicker and walked out of the office. Outside the hospital he pointed to each of the lights in the lower lot, walking from one to the next without comment.
Traynor tagged along beneath his umbrella, nodding at each fixture. As he followed Van Slyke through the copse of evergreen trees and climbed the wooden steps that separated the two lots, Traynor wondered what Van Slyke did when he wasn’t working. He realized he never saw Van Slyke walking around the town or shopping in the shops. And the man was notorious for not attending hospital functions.
Uncomfortable with the continued silence, Traynor cleared his throat: “Everything okay at home?” he asked.
“Fine,” Van Slyke said.
“House okay, no problems?”
“Nope,” Van Slyke said.
Traynor started feeling challenged to get Van Slyke to respond with more than monosyllables. “Do you like civilian life better than the navy?”
Van Slyke shrugged and began pointing out the lights in the upper lot. Traynor continued to nod at each one. There seemed to be plenty. Traynor made a mental note to swing up there with his car some evening to see how light it was after dark.
“Looks good,” Traynor said.
They started back toward the hospital.
“You being careful with your money?” Traynor asked.
“Yeah,” Van Slyke said.
“I think you are doing a great job here at the hospital,” Traynor said. “I’m proud of you.”
Van Slyke didn’t respond. Traynor looked over at Van Slyke’s wet profile with its heavy five o’clock shadow. He wondered how Van Slyke could be so unemotional, but then again he realized that he’d never understood the boy ever since he’d been little. Sometimes Traynor found it hard to believe they were related, yet they were. Van Slyke was Traynor’s only nephew, the son of his deceased sister.
When they reached the stand of trees separating the two lots, Traynor stopped. He looked among the branches. “How come there are no lights on this path?”
“No one said anything about lights on the path,” Van Slyke said. It was the first full sentence he had uttered. Traynor was almost pleased.
“I think one or two would be nice,” Traynor said.
Van Slyke barely nodded.
“Thanks for the tour,” Traynor said in parting. He was relieved to make his escape. He had always felt guilty for feeling so estranged from his own kin, but Van Slyke was such an enigma. Traynor had to admit that his sister hadn’t exactly been a paragon of normality. Her name had been Sunny, but her disposition had been anything but. She’d always been quiet, retiring, and had suffered from depression for most of her life.
Traynor still had a hard time understanding why Sunny had married Dr. Werner Van Slyke, knowing the man was a drunk. Her suicide was the final blow. If she’d only come to him, he would have tried to help.
In any case, given Werner Van Slyke’s parentage, it was hardly a surprise that he was as strange as he was. Yet with his naval machinist’s training he’d been both helpful and reliable. Traynor was glad he’d suggested that the hospital hire him.
Traynor roused himself from this reflection and headed for Beaton’s office.
“I’ve got some bad news,” Traynor said as soon as Beaton’s secretary admitted him. He told her about the Board of Selectmen’s vote on the parking garage.
“I hope we don’t have any more assaults,” Beaton said. She was clearly disappointed.