I walked the last few blocks home, taking the time to review events. I hadn’t yet had the opportunity to talk to Henry about his falling out with Charlotte, which ran in an endless loop in my head. On reflection, what snagged my attention was the little side trip their argument had taken. Charlotte was convinced Solana Rojas had played a part in the rift between them. That bothered me. Without Solana’s help, there was no way Gus could manage living on his own. He was dependent on her. We were all of us dependent on her because she’d stepped into the breach, shouldering the burden of his care. That put her in a position of power, which was cause for concern. How easy it would be for her to take advantage of him.
I’d turned up no hint of trouble in the course of the background check, but even if Solana’s record was spotless, people can and do change. She was in her early sixties and maybe she hadn’t set anything aside for her retirement years. Gus might not be worth a lot, but he might have more than she did. Financial inequity is a powerful goad. Dishonest folks like nothing better than to shift assets out of the pockets of those who have them and into their own.
I turned the corner from Bay onto Albanil, pausing as I passed Gus’s place. Lights were on in the living room, but there was no sign of Solana and no sign of him. I glanced at the Dumpster as I passed. The grungy wall-to-wall carpeting had been ripped up and lay over the discards like a blanket of brown snow. I surveyed the remaining rubbish, as I did most days. It looked like Solana had tipped the contents of a wastebasket into the Dumpster. The avalanche of falling paper had separated, sliding into various crevices and crannies like snow settling on a mountaintop. I could see junk mail, newspapers, flyers, and magazines.
I tilted my head. There was an envelope with red line around the rim caught in a fold of the wall-to-wall carpeting. I reached down and retrieved it, taking a closer look. The envelope was addressed to Augustus Vronsky and bore the return address of Pacific Gas and Electric. The flap was still sealed. This was one of Gus’s utility bills. The red rim suggested a certain stern reprimand, and I was guessing his payment was overdue. What was this doing in the trash?
I’d seen the pigeonholes in Gus’s rolltop desk. His paid and unpaid bills had been neatly segregated, along with receipts, bank statements, and other financial documents. I remembered being impressed that he kept his affairs in such good working order. Despite his deplorable housekeeping skills, it was clear he was conscientious about day-to-day business matters.
I turned the envelope over in my hand. Had he not been paying his bills? That was worrisome. Idly, I picked at the edge of the flap, debating the wisdom of taking a peek. I know the federal regulations related to postal theft. It’s against the law to steal someone else’s mail-no ifs, ands, or buts. What’s also true is that a document placed in a trash container sitting at the curb no longer retains its character as the personal property of the one who tossed it. In this case, it looked like the unopened bill had ended up in the trash by mistake. Which meant it was still hands-off. What was I supposed to do?
If this was a dunning notice and I left it where I’d found it, his utilities might be cut. On the other hand, if I kept the envelope, I might end up in the federal pen. What bothered me was the virtual certainty that Gus wasn’t the one who emptied the trash these days. Solana did that. I hadn’t seen Gus outside for the past two months. He was barely ambulatory and I knew he wasn’t taking care of routine chores.
I climbed his porch stairs and put the bill in the mailbox affixed to his front door frame and then went back to my place. I’d have given anything to find out if Gus was looking after his finances properly. I passed through the gate and rounded the studio to the rear. I let myself in and went up the spiral stairs to the loft, where I stripped off my running sweats and hopped in the shower. Once I was dressed, I ate my cereal, after which I crossed the patio and knocked on Henry’s back door.
He was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, the paper spread out in front of him. He got up to open the door. I held on to the frame, leaning forward to have a quick look around. “No fights in progress?”
“Nope. The coast is clear. You want coffee?”
“I do.”
He let me in and I sat down at the kitchen table while he got out a mug and filled it, then set the milk and sugar in front of me, saying, “That’s regular milk, not the usual half-and-half. To what do I owe the pleasure? I hope you’re not going to lecture me on my bad behavior.”
“I’m thinking about taking Gus some homemade soup.”
“You need a recipe?”
“Not quite. I was actually hoping to score soup that was already made. You have any in your freezer?”
“Why don’t we have a look? If I’d thought of it, I’d have taken him a batch myself.” He opened his freezer and began to pull out a series of Tupperware containers, each neatly labeled with the contents and the date. He studied one. “Mulligatawny soup. I’d forgotten I had that. Doesn’t sound like something you’d make. You’re more the chicken-noodle type.”
“Exactly,” I said, watching as he retrieved a quart container from the very back of the shelf. The label was so frost-covered, he had to scrape at it with his thumbnail. “July of ’85? I think the vichyssoise is past its sell-by date.” He placed the jar in the sink to thaw and returned to his search. “I saw you jogging this morning.”
“What were you doing out so early?”
“You’ll be proud of me. I walked. Two miles by my count. I enjoyed myself.”
“Charlotte’s a good influence.”
“Was.”
“Oh. I don’t suppose you want to talk about it.”
“Nope.” He pulled out another container and read the top. “How about chicken with rice? It’s only two months old.”
“Perfect. I’ll thaw it first and take it over hot. It’s more convincing that way.”
He closed the freezer and set the rock-hard soup container on the table near me. “What’s brought about such a neighborly gesture?”
“I’ve been worrying about Gus and this is my excuse for a visit.”
“Why do you need an excuse?”
“Maybe not an excuse so much as a purpose. Not to get into the issue one way or the other, but Charlotte seemed to think Solana had a hand in putting the two of you at odds. I was wondering why she’d do that. I mean, if she’s up to something, how would either of us know?”
“I wouldn’t set too much store by what Charlotte says, although to be fair about it, I don’t think what she did was necessarily wrong, just opportunistic.”
“Is there any chance you’ll patch things up?”
“I doubt it. She’s not going to apologize to me and I certainly won’t apologize to her.”
“You sound just like me.”
“Surely not that stubborn,” he remarked. “At any rate, on the subject of Solana, I thought you did a background check and she was clean.”
“Maybe so, maybe not. Melanie asked me to take a quick look and that’s what I did. I know she doesn’t have a criminal record because I researched that first.”
“So you’re going over there to snoop.”
“More or less. If it comes to nothing, it’s fine and dandy with me. I’d rather make a fool of myself than have Gus at risk.”
When I got back to my place, I put the container of frozen soup in the kitchen sink and ran warm water around it to thaw. I found a bowl and set it on the counter, then took out a saucepan. I was already thinking of myself as a domestic little bun. While I waited for the soup to heat, I started a load of laundry. As soon as the soup was ready, I put it back in the Tupperware container and trotted it over to Gus’s next door.