“That’s not bad,” I said. I glanced over at his wife again. Her legs had begun to tremble.
“Why don’t you get on back to bed, May?” he said and then looked at me with a disapproving shake of his head. “She can’t hear good. Hearing comes and goes. Got tintypes of the ear and all she can see is living shapes. She got the leg of that walker hung up on the broom-closet door last week and stood there for forty-six minutes before she got loose. Old fool.”
“You want me to help you get her back to bed?” I asked.
Snyder floundered on the couch, turning himself sideways so he could get up. He pushed himself to his feet and then went over to her and shouted in her face. “Go lay down awhile, May, and then I’ll get you some snackin’ cake,” he said.
She stared steadfastly at his neck, but I could have sworn she knew exactly what he was talking about and was just feeling stubborn and morose.
“Why did you put the light on? I thought it was day,” she said.
“It only cost five cent to run that bulb,” he said.
“What?”
“I said it’s pitch-black night outside and you got to go to bed!” he hollered.
“Well,” she said, “I think I might in that case.”
Laboriously, she thumped the walker around, navigating with effort. Her eyes slid past me and she seemed suddenly to discern me in the haze.
“Who’s that?”
“It’s some woman,” Snyder broke in. “I was telling her of Leonard’s back luck.”
“Did you tell her what I heard that night? Tell about the’ hammering kept me awake. Hanging pictures … bang, bang, bang. I had to take a pill it made my head hurt so bad.”
“That wasn’t the same night, May. How many times I told you that? It couldn’t have been because he wasn’t home and he’s the one did that kind of thing. Burglars don’t hang pictures.”
He looked over at me then, twirling his index finger beside his temple to indicate that she was rattlebrained.
“Banged and banged,” she said, but she was only muttering to herself as she thunked away, moving the walker in front of her like a clothes rack.
“She hasn’t a faculty left,” he said to me over his shoulder. “Pees on herself half the time. I had to move every stick of dining-room furniture out and put her bed in there right where the sideboard stood. I told her I’d outlive her the day I married her. She gets on my nerves. She did back then too. I’d just as soon live with a side of meat.”
“Who’s at the door?” she said insistently.
“Nobody. I’m talkin’ to myself,” he said.
He shuffled into the hallway behind her. His hovering had a tender quality about it in spite of what he said. In any event, she didn’t seem aware of his aggravation or his minor tyrannies. I wondered if he’d stood there and timed her for the forty-six minutes while she struggled with the broom-closet door. Is that what marriages finally come down to? I’ve seen old couples toddle down the street together holding hands and I’ve always looked on faintly misty-eyed, but maybe it is all the same clash of wills behind closed doors. I’ve been married twice myself and both ended in divorce. I berate myself for that sometimes but now I’m not sure. Maybe I haven’t made such a bad trade-off. Personally, I’d rather grow old alone than in the company of anyone I’ve met so far. I don’t experience myself as lonely, incomplete, or unfulfilled, but I don’t talk about that much. It seems to piss people off-especially men.
Chapter 8
Mr. Snyder returned to the living room and sat down heavily on the couch. “Now then.”
“What can you tell me about that fire next door?” I asked. “I saw the place. It looks awful.”
He nodded, preparing himself as though for a television interview, staring straight ahead. “Well now, the fire engine woke me up ten o’clock at night. Two of ‘em. I don’t sleep good anyhow and I heard the siren come right up here close so I got up and went out. Neighbors was runnin’ from ever’ which way. Black smoke outen that house like you never saw. These firemen, they bashed their way in and pretty soon flames et up the front porch. Whole backside got saved. They found Marty, that was Leonard’s wife, layin’ on the floor. It’d be right about over there,” he said, pointing toward the front door. “I never seen her myself, but Tillie said she was charred head to foot. Just a bunch of stumps, like a piece of wood.”
“Oh really. Tillie didn’t mention that to me.” “She seen the smoke and called right up. Nine-one-one it was. I was sound to sleep. Woke up when the fire engine come blastin’ down the road. I thought they’d go right on by, but then I seen the lights and I got up and put a robe on and went out. Poor Leonard wasn’t even home. He drove up about the time they got the fire out. Collapsed right on the street when he heard she was dead. I never saw a man so tore up. My wife, May, she never woke up at all. She’d tooken a pill and she’s deaf as a broom anyway. You’ve seen that yourself. Fire broke out here, she’d been roast pork.” “What time was it when Mr. Grice got home?” “I don’t know the exact time. Fifteen, twenty minutes after
the fire engines come as best I recollect. He was out to dinner with his sister as I hear tell and he comes home to find his own wife dead. His knees give out and down he went. Right on the sidewalk with me standin’ not this far away. Turned white and dropped like a big hand had give him a thump and knocked him out. It was the awfullest thing you ever saw. They brought her out zipped up in a plastic sack-” “How’d Tillie happen to see her?” I interrupted. “I mean, if she was zipped up in a body bag?”
“Oh, that Tillie, she sees everything. Ask her. She prob’ly pushed through when the door got bashed in and seen the body for herself. Makes me sick to think of it.”
“I understand Leonard’s been staying with his sister since then.”
“That’s what I heard, too. Her name is Howe. Lives on Carolina. It’s in the book if you want to get in touch.”
“Good. I’ll try to see him this afternoon. I’m hoping he can tell me something about where Mrs. Boldt might have gone.”
I got up and held out my hand. “You’ve been a big help.”
Mr. Snyder struggled to his feet and shook my hand, walking to the door with me.
I looked over at him with curiosity. “What do you think your wife was referring to when she mentioned the hammering that night? Do you have any idea what she meant?”
He waved impatiently. “She don’t know what she’s talkin’ about. She got that all confused.”
I shrugged. “Well, I hope Mr. Grice is doing all right at any rate. Did he have good insurance coverage? That would be a big help, I’m sure.”
He shook his head, pulling at his chin. “I don’t think he come out too good on that. Him and me has the same insurance comp’ny, but his policy didn’t amount to much as 1 understand it. Between the fire and his wife’s being gone now, he’s about ruined. He collects disability for a bad back, you know, and she was sole support.”
“God, that’s terrible. I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, and then took a chance. “What insurance company?” “California Fidelity.”
Ahh. I felt my little heart go pitty-pat. This was the first break I’d had. I worked for them.
California Fidelity Insurance is a small company that handles and some commercial lines, with branches in San Francisco, Pasadena, and Palm Springs. Santa Teresa is the home office, occupying the second floor of a three-story building on State Street, which cuts straight through the heart of town. My corner consists of two rooms-one inner, one outer-with a separate entrance. Early in my career, I worked for CFI, doing insurance investigations on fire and wrongful-death claims. Now that I’m out on my own, we maintain a loose association. I cover certain inquiries for them every month in exchange for office space.
I let myself into the office now and checked the answering machine. The light was blinking, but the tape was blank except for some hissing and a couple of high-pitched beeps. For a while, I had a live answering service, but the messages were usually botched. I didn’t think prospective clients were that keen to confide their troubles to some twenty-year-old telephone operator who could barely spell, let alone keep the numbers straight. An answering machine is irritating, but at least it tells the caller than I am female and I pick up on the second ring. The mail wasn’t in yet, so I went next door to talk to Vera Lipton, one of the California Fidelity claims adjusters.