“A dead man,” he said.
Three
To my shame, I forgot about the strange call Leo had received. My new client called, offering a seventeen-hundred-dollar fee to document a fraudulent insurance claim in Cedar Rapids. I was packed and gone first thing the next morning, certain it wasn’t Iowa I was headed for but Fat City.
Leo phoned a day later. I was in a meeting with two of my client’s agents. The call went to message but he hadn’t left any words, and I forgot about that as well. It was like that with Leo and me. When one of us-almost always Leo-got busy, calls didn’t get returned, unless someone yelled “Important.” He hadn’t.
I’d been back in Rivertown for two days, typing up reports, before I drove over to his neighborhood just before dusk. Even then, it wasn’t Leo I was anxious to see, but rather that harbinger of coming good times, the new construction sprouting on his street.
They’d made good progress, in spite of the fact that it snowed three inches right after I’d left for Iowa. A huge hole had been cut square into the ground for a foundation sizable enough for what would surely be the largest house in Rivertown. I supposed the third lot, where the bungalow slated for demolition still stood empty, would be used for a side yard, and perhaps a detached garage.
I imagined some of the neighbors, good solid blue-collar types with sensible values, were appalled at what was sure to be a monument to an arrogant ego being plopped down smack in the middle of their neighborhood. I suspected more would be excited, like me, at the prospect of finally making out financially in a grub town like Rivertown.
I continued on down the block, thinking that if Leo were home, I’d blow off about having been traveling, as he so often did, on professional business, as he invariably did, and about how my professional life was just like his, except he had multiple clients, made huge money, and was generally well regarded in his profession. Since my business, and my life, had been trashed in a falsified document scheme some time back, that kind of talk would be good for half a laugh.
I coasted to a stop at his curb, surprised.
His house was dark, his sidewalk and front steps still covered with the three inches of new snow. For some people, uncleared snow didn’t matter, and they took their time shoveling it away. Not so Leo Brumsky. He was fastidious to a fault about keeping his walks clean for Ma and her movie-loving friends, and he always attacked the task swiftly. When he was out of town, he had a standing deal with a snow removal service, paying them extra to put his bungalow first on their work list.
Snow lying on a walk, several days after it fell, was never allowed.
I trudged up the front steps and rang the bell. When there was no answer, I knocked, loudly. No one came.
I high-stepped across the tiny lawn to the gangway between his house and the neighbor’s. Leo’s office window, like all the basement windows, was barred. I knelt down. His office was dark, like every other room in the house.
Someone tapped on glass high behind me. I stood up. The gray-haired neighbor babushka looked down from her side window. She jabbed a finger toward the front. I walked back up the gangway.
“You’re awful late,” she said, leaning out past her wood storm door.
“What?”
“I seen you enough since you were a kid to know you’re Leo’s friend. Get shoveling.”
“I just stopped by.”
“Leo’s got to be more careful with his arrangements. We got three more inches.”
“No one’s home. Did he take his mother someplace?” I was worried he’d rushed her to the hospital. Nothing else would explain snow sitting for so long.
“That’s no excuse for not taking care of things so others won’t fall. I use that sidewalk to get to the grocery. Now I have to walk clear around-”
I cut her off. “Is Mrs. Brumsky all ri-?”
Now it was her turn to cut me off. “They’re away, but that’s still no excuse. It always snows in Chicago in March, for pity’s sake. Somebody needs to clear it off.”
“Away? Both of them?” I could only think there’d been a sudden emergency, though Leo had never spoken of a relative out of town.
“Vacation, for pity’s sake.”
My mouth went dry. “Leo told you they went on vacation?”
“Fort Lauderdale, I think. Or maybe Miami Beach. Florida, for sure. Or maybe it was…” She scratched her head, confusion descending like a veil.
“You’re sure: Leo took his mother on vacation?” I asked again, damning myself for not returning Leo’s call when I was in Iowa.
“Of course I’m sure. They left right before all that snow came down. You going to shovel, or what?”
Something was wrong. Ma Brumsky’s idea of a vacation was to cruise a shopping cart at Walmart. Even before she’d become tethered to her front room by the wonders of big-screen television, I’d never known her to want to travel. Leo, of course, took vacations, but only with Endora. They went to exotic spots like Gstaad or St. Barts. Leo was an obedient, loving son, but he’d never expressed any tolerance for vacationing with Ma Brumsky.
Then there was the uncleared snow. Leo was a meticulous planner. His removal service would have come around while he was away.
Unless he’d not thought to tell them they would be away.
I had my cell phone out before the neighbor slammed her door. Leo’s voice answered, telling me to leave a message. I did. “This is Dek. Snow has accumulated all over your sidewalk. I’m going to shovel, but Lester Lance Leamington is advising me to embrace greed, not menial labor. I expect payment of at least a thousand dollars, along with a phone call explaining what’s gotten into Ma, abandoning television to take off on vacation.”
I clicked off. Cracking wise hadn’t made me feel any better.
A snow shovel leaned against the back porch. As I pushed the snow through the gangway to the front, I paused to look up and smile winningly at the neighbor’s window. The curtain fluttered.
I cleaned the sidewalk and the front steps and returned the shovel to the back of the house. Even with the exercise, even wearing two coats, I’d begun to shiver. Something was wrong.
I started the Jeep, turned the heater on high, and called Endora’s cell phone. I got routed to voice mail. I called her office at the Newberry and got her machine. Finally, I tried the library’s main number. The operator said Endora wasn’t in. She wouldn’t tell me anything else.
I drove back to the turret, drank coffee, and tried trimming out a window. After ruining five pieces of wood, I gave it up and left three more messages on Leo’s cell phone and two on Endora’s. By now it was well past dinnertime. I microwaved something pictured on its box as looking beige. It came out green. I took it to my electric blue La-Z-Boy and switched on my tiny television with its dangling converter. Though it was just past ten, Lester Lance Leamington appeared, untroubled, optimistic, and chock full of the same crap he’d been spewing late-night and midday.
I carefully resealed the green food in its microwavable container, threw it across the room, and went upstairs to bed.
Four
The next morning, I grabbed for my cell phone before I got out of bed, even though I’d left the ringer on. None of my calls to Leo or Endora had been returned.
I dressed quickly and drove down Leo’s street. Workers were unloading a huge pile of cement forms in front of the new excavation. They were going to be pouring a big basement.
I parked in front of Leo’s bungalow and got out carrying my tool bag, like I’d come to fix something. It was true enough. I hoped to repair my peace of mind.
Even though it was cold, right at freezing, and early, the neighbor woman was out in the snow in her backyard, wearing galoshes and a black down coat. She was hanging laundry. The array on her line, large ladies’ undergarments all, showed that she lived alone. I supposed the wet things would freeze quickly and make sounds like huge thunderclaps when they cracked, should the wind pick up.