“Is that you again, Flo?” A woman came into the room from the kitchen, moving slowly. She was wearing a quilted robe and slippers. She looked all of ninety-six years, and maybe seventy pounds, if that. But what the hell. If you’re still on your feet at ninety-six, you’re doing pretty damned well.
“It’s me, Mrs. DeMarco. I hope I’m not bothering you.”
She came closer to us, holding on tight to the back of the chair. “Where did she go now, eh?” She certainly sounded like a lifelong Canadian.
“Mrs. DeMarco, this is my friend Alex,” Natalie said. “We’ve both come to visit you.”
She came closer. When I bent down to shake her hand, she stared into my face. Her thick glasses magnified her pale blue eyes, and her white hair was pinned up on her head. Around her neck was a long silver necklace with what looked to be one of those medical alert tags. One push on the button and the ambulance would be on its way, although way the hell up here, I couldn’t imagine how long it would take to show up.
“Alex?” she said. “Is that your name?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I took her right hand carefully in mine.
“That’s a good name,” she said. “What happened to your face?”
“It’s a long story, ma’am.”
“My son is named Albert. That’s close to Alex.”
“Alex and I would like to ask you a couple of questions,” Natalie said. “Would that be all right?”
“Of course, dear.” She put her hand on Natalie’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, dear.”
“Yes?”
“Tell me your name.”
“I’m Natalie.”
“Natalie! There’s a little girl next door named Natalie. Her grandparents are dear friends of mine.”
Natalie closed her eyes for a moment. She cleared her throat. “Mrs. DeMarco, I wonder if I can ask you something.”
“Please sit down, eh? Can I get you anything?”
“No, please,” Natalie said. “Let me. Have you eaten lunch yet?”
“Oh yes. Flo was here before. She comes every day.”
“Your nurse, you mean? I thought her name was Celia. When I was here before, remember? You told me her name was-”
“She’s the woman who comes over every day. Her name is Flo.”
Natalie took her by the hand and led her to the couch. “Are you sure I can’t get you something else? Maybe some tea?”
“No, I’m fine, dear. But thank you.”
She took her time sitting herself down on the couch. I offered my hand to her, but she waved me away.
“Sit down,” she said. “Please.”
I sat down next to her. Natalie knelt down on the floor.
“Mrs. DeMarco, you do remember me, right? I came over to visit you a couple of weeks ago.”
“You didn’t have your friend with you then,” she said, looking at me. “Him I’d remember.”
“No,” Natalie said. “Alex wasn’t with me.”
“You’ve got to learn how to duck, young man.”
I couldn’t help smiling at that. It had been a long time since someone referred to me as a young man.
“We have a question to ask you,” Natalie said. “It might seem kind of silly. Are you ready?”
“Yes, dear. Go ahead, eh?”
Natalie took the photograph out of her coat pocket. “Can you see this picture all right?”
Mrs. DeMarco took it from her and held it a few inches from her face. “Can you turn on that lamp, dear?”
Natalie reached over and pulled the cord on the tassel-shaded lamp on the end table. “Is that better?”
Mrs. DeMarco squinted and moved the picture back and forth a little bit. “Is that snow on the ground?”
“No, I think this was taken during the summer.”
“I remember that hat,” she said.
Natalie looked at me. “The hat? You remember it?”
“That was an expensive hat, eh? You have to take good care of a hat like that.”
“Were you here in the yard the day this was taken?”
“How much snow is there?” she said, looking closer. “This is right before New Year’s Eve.”
“No, Mrs. DeMarco-”
“I told them, New Year’s Eve you should spend with your family, eh? You shouldn’t be going out all night like that.”
“Mrs. DeMarco, I don’t understand. What New Year’s Eve are you talking about?”
“There wasn’t much snow, eh? It was a strange winter. And them going down there like that. There was no reason for it. You shouldn’t be away from home on New Year’s Eve. It gave me a bad feeling, you know. A woman knows these things.”
“Down there? Where’s down there?”
“It’s bad business. Any fool knows that, eh?”
“What’s the bad business about, Mrs. DeMarco? Can you tell me?”
“New Year’s Eve,” she said. “Of all the nights in the year, eh?”
“What happened on New Year’s Eve?”
Mrs. DeMarco looked at the picture again. “Luc Reynaud certainly knows how to wear a suit,” she said. “Who are these other men?”
“That’s my father,” Natalie said.
Mrs. DeMarco looked at her, shaking her head in confusion.
“Your father, dear?”
“I mean to say, this is Jean Reynaud.”
“No, dear. Jean’s just a little thing.”
“The other man was…” Natalie stopped. What could she say? Your dead son?
“Where did he go now?” Mrs. DeMarco said, looking around the room.
“Who, Mrs. DeMarco?”
“Albert. He’s always getting into things.”
“I don’t know,” Natalie said, blinking. “I don’t think he’s here.”
Mrs. DeMarco turned to me. “What was your name? Alvin?”
“Alex, ma’am.”
“Have you seen my son?”
“No, ma’am. I haven’t.”
“If you do, will you bring him home?”
I looked at Natalie. “Yes, ma’am. I will.”
“Good,” she said. She patted me on the hand. “You’re a good boy. You shouldn’t get into fights, though. It’s not a smart thing to do, eh?”
“You’re right about that,” I said.
We sat with her for a few more minutes. It was obvious she wasn’t going to talk any more about the hat or anything else from the past. She was getting tired, too, so we made our goodbyes and promised her that we’d come back again soon. She made Natalie promise to say hello to the Reynauds next door if she saw them, and she made me promise to keep an eye out for her son. And to not get into any more fights.
Natalie wrote out a note to the day nurse, asking her to call her. Then we left. The air felt painful after the warmth of the house.
“That was bad,” Natalie said as she got into the Jeep.
“I know.”
“I’ve got to do something to help her. I can’t just leave her in that house like that.”
“Isn’t there somebody you can talk to?”
She shook her head. “She doesn’t have any family left, Alex. And she doesn’t even know it.”
I didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. She started up the Jeep and backed it down the driveway. When she was on the road, she gunned it and drove west, past her own driveway.
“Let me guess,” I said. “We’re going to Michigan now?”
“You up for it?”
“Yep.”
She nodded her head and kept driving. She didn’t say anything else for a while. The snow started to fall.
“Mrs. DeMarco couldn’t help us,” she finally said. “But I am going to find out. I want to know what happened.”
“If this man really did kill your father,” I said, “this Simon Grant, the man with the hat…”
“I know, Alex. They just buried him.”
“I’m just saying-”
“He’s gone now. I can’t touch him, I know. But I still have to find out.”
I heard the determination in her voice. It was something I recognized, the same thing that would be driving me if I were in her place. She’d have no peace until she got her answer.
I wanted to help her. I wanted to watch her back, wherever this thing would take her. And of course I wouldn’t mind finding out some answers myself. Why the hell I got triple-teamed behind the church, for starters.