“Hello there, Scout.” The voice was friendly and commanding.
Scout backed up. A hand appeared, followed by the sleeve of a tweed sports jacket and the face of Detective Lane. His short hair was thinning on top. “Hi Ernie,” he said. His knees crackled when he crouched to offer his open palm to the dog. She moved forward to sniff his clothing. He smiled at Ernie and said, “I guess she smells my dog.”
Ernie reached for the sides of his chair, his legs like rubber.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Ernie wondered how the detective noticed so much while looking at Scout.
The detective’s eyes were dark brown. “Got some questions for your Grandmother.”
“Nanny, Detective Lane is here,” Ernie said.
“What the hell does he want?”
Lane smiled broadly and walked towards the doorway. Another five centimeters in height and he would have to duck. Ernie spotted Lane’s missing earlobe. “What happened?” He pointed a finger at the mangled ear.
Lane turned and lifted his left hand to the side of his head. “This? Domestic dispute.” He pointed to the scratches on the glass door. “What happened here?”
“Scout… ” Ernie said. The dog trotted over. “When Bob came after me, she tried to get in.”
“YOU WANNA TALK OR NOT?” Nanny’s voice was an engine without a muffler.
“Hello Leona,” Lane said and slid open the screen door.
Its wheels squealed as he closed it.
Scout dragged a paw across Ernie’s knee. She rolled and he leaned to scratch the fur along her belly. “How come no one wants to ask me what happened?”
Inside, Lane sat down on the black slate ledge at the mouth of the fireplace. For a little over two seconds, his eyes took in the flat plastic container with a separate compartment for each day’s medication. Kleenex, cigarettes and lighters were scattered across the coffee table. He noted Leona seemed to be shrinking inside her blue jogging suit and wondered if she noticed how frantic Ernie was. The boy had a magazine cover Latino face. Ernie’s beauty was a terrible gift, Lane decided.
Nanny blew smoke over the table top.
Lane studied the plastic tube at her feet. An oxygen machine hummed.
“Haven’t blown up yet,” Nanny wheezed.
“Can’t imagine it would be a pleasant experience for Ernie.”
“Leave him out of it.” A clot of phlegm appeared on Leona’s top lip and got caught in the mustache.
“I wasn’t aware he was involved.”
“He’s done nothing.”
“Didn’t say he had.”
Leona took a short sniff of oxygen, gathering herself, “Then, why are you here?”
“We can’t find your son-in-law.” Lane leaned forward now, putting his palms on the knees of his grey slacks.
“Bob’ll turn up. Always does.”
Lane considered the anger and regret woven into her reply. “Sounds like you wish he wouldn’t.”
“After what Bob’s done to my family, why would I want him back?” The end of her cigarette glowed.
Lane leaned closer, “What did he do, exactly?”
Leona looked at him for a moment, considered the last quarter of the cigarette. She glanced over her shoulder, saw Ernie and began a personal litany of painful memories. “My daughter, Judy, was 18 when she met Bob.” She pointed an arthritic finger at Lane. Her voice rose in volume as emotion elbowed its way in between the words. She stabbed the filter tip into the ash tray. “We had our store then. Macleod’s Hardware. It was our dream to own our own store. Saved for 15 years. The dream lasted three.” She leaned forward to put the oxygen tube back on. “Judy met Bob in grade 12. Did you know she had a bad leg?”
“No.”
“She did. God, that kid was always fighting. Her legs never seemed to work right and the kids used to pick on her somethin’ terrible. Judy never had a boyfriend till Bob came along. I tried to tell her he was no good for her but… ” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug, “Couldn’t tell her a thing. She ran away three times. Bob would hang around the store with his big, tough friends, Lester and Marvin. They’d sit in the back of a pickup and just stare. We even had a break-in. Knew it was them but the RCMP couldn’t prove a thing. Then the rumours started.”
“Rumours?”
“Someone started the rumour we were cheating our customers and that’s how come our daughter ran away. Business dropped off to nothin’. You ever lived in a small town?”
“No.”
“We had to sell. Judy kept comin’ back to the school to see Beth. She was only 13 then. Kept it all to herself. Tore Beth up inside. She gained 40 pounds in six months. All because of the upset. I was sick by that time. Ended up in the hospital and in bed for a month. Beth had to take care of me and do all the housework. The doctor told Beth if she ever ran away like Judy did, it’d kill me.”
Chair legs scraped over wood. Lane glanced to his left. Ernie was standing.
“Don’t know what I woulda done without her,” Nanny said.
Lane watched as Ernie looked at his grandmother. The detective saw rage and wondered what was behind the boy’s anger. Ernie jammed his feet into running shoes and grabbed the blue leash off the white table. Scout’s tail wagged.
“Are you listenin’?” Leona said.
Lane nodded.
“What did I say, then?”
“You don’t know what you would have done without Beth.”
Leona’s eyes held him for a minute-a silent challenge. “Didn’t see my Judy for five years after that. Not until her baby was born. The visit lasted 15 minutes before we started to fight. You know, if my brother was still alive he would have been able to help. Got killed in the war, though. Italy.”
“I’m sorry,” Lane said automatically and wondered where Ernie went when he was angry.
“After that, every time we got together with Judy I’d get in a fight with her or Bob would say somethin’ to get me goin’.”
“So, you wanted him dead?” He locked onto Leona’s pupils, waiting for her reaction.
She stared back at him without blinking, took a gulp of air and wheezed, “You bet.” She took another gulp of air, “Thought you said he disappeared.”
“Do you know where Bob Swatsky is?”
“I’d bet he’s crawled into a hole someplace.” She reached for her cigarettes.
Lane noticed a slight dilation of the pupils but it wasn’t enough to make him sure she was lying.
“Doesn’t she piss you off when she does that?” Ernie said to Scout.
She licked her lips and wagged her tail.
The leash bit into Ernie’s hand, “Slow down!” He pulled and she faced him, tongue hanging. Her saliva evaporated when it hit the concrete. “Doesn’t she piss you off?”
Scout sat, head tipped to one side, both front paws on the ground, one rear leg cocked under her rump, the other held out like an outrigger. Her tail swept the cement.
“I mean, Nanny tells the same story over and over. Makes me want to scream!”
Scout lifted her left paw.
Ernie reached down and took it in his hand. The calloused pads felt sandpaper cool against his palm. “She’s always complaining about her asthma and emphysema, then she smokes.”
Scout barked once.
“And she’s always bad mouthing Nonno.”
The dog leaned into the leash.
Ernie dropped to one knee, stuffed a thumb into the back of one running shoe and pulled it over his heel. Switching feet, he repeated the procedure.
Scout pressed her nose against his.
Ernie stood and wiped the back of his hand across his face. The sun dragged its fingernails along his neck.