Old Miss Gracing by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 19
Arriving at the same time the two possible culprits were led to private accommodations and their very own interrogator, equipped with a tape recorder. No problem. Each simply told the true story. Zeke, an old pupil of Miss Gracing, came from New Mexico to see her. “She was being terrorized by someone she didn’t know and I clobbered him because he came at me with a knife. By the way, can I get some medical attention? This isn’t a surface wound.”
“It’s on the way, believe me. You’ll be all right. So, tell me, how the body wound up dead?”
“He was knocked out. I tied him up and to the bannister rails. When he woke up he started to fidget around and broke through them. You saw the results.”
A single knock came to the door and another cop entered and said; “We got on ID on the victim, excuse me, corpse, clown, whatever. He’s Castor Courtney of Corpusbury, Connecticut.” He smirked, then continued, “No lie. The local cops say he’s quite a bird. Doesn’t work. Lives alone. Goes for long walks in the cemetery. Apparently, he’s been doing this for decades. I hope they’re going to dig up the place.”
The interrogators agreed and said; “Thank you, Sergeant.”
And then proceeded to ask one more question; “Do you know a Castor Courtney?” to which Zeke simply said, “No.”
Bonnie (Eloise) went through similar questions and answers.
They were thanked, dismissed and offered a ride home after Zeke got to see the medic, receiving a few stitches. They said they wanted to walk. Bonnie liked being outside, but hadn’t been there much lately. Now, she had the benefit of a killer of a protector. Street lamps fifty feet apart lighted their way.
Most of the trip was through old residential sections and a short spell in the main shopping area. Houses were mostly two stories and ten feet apart. In the artificial light they all were partially visible and looked gray, except the one that was painted an unmistakable bright yellow.
Zeke said; “Okay, now that your problems are taken care of, let’s talk about mine.”
“I thought we did that already.”
“Kind of, but I forgot something. What am I going to do if I never make any money from writing and Morrigan, the baby and I go broke?”
“You know the answer, silly,” she said as she slapped his left hand gently with her right.
He jumped; “Hey, that’s the wounded spot.” He intended that to be half a joke; it was taken that way and they both laughed. He continued; ”No, I really don’t know the answer.”
She looked at him, widened her radiant blue eyes and smiled as she shook her head from side to side and said; “You should be embarrassed. It’s the same old story you’ve heard countless times, just in a hypothetical situation. Remember, ‘You can’t think like that.’”
He laughed seeing the truth to that and wondered why he constantly had to be reminded. Then she laughed, too. He said;
“That’s a great one. I ought to say it a hundred times a day or so, until it is seared in my brain.”
She said; “It always works. My mother taught that to me.”
They passed into the commercial area around 10:00 o’clock.
Most stores were already closed and a few people lingered in the street, some standing still talking and others busily off to some destination.
Zeke said; “A lot of these stores are new.”
Bonnie said; “Not so new. You’ve been away a long time.”
He somehow felt guilty for that and answered by sticking out his tongue at her. He then sighed and gently said; “Much too long and all the way to New Mexico. I’ve really missed seeing you.”
When they got to her open alley door they saw the new civic improvement; a red painted outline of a funny looking corpse on the ground. At least the body was long gone. The artwork depicted a bulbous person with no head. As they passed it Zeke pointed at the clean wall and said; “Look, Bonnie. I think they missed some of the splatter,” attempting gross humor. She laughed, but again “accidentally” touched Zeke’s wounded left hand and watched him flinch. They reached the foot of the stairs and she said; “Oh, damn it. There’s more over here,”
pointing at some imaginary brain tissue. Being around little kids for so long probably made her impervious to such matter of fact observations and she wanted to see his reaction to her blasé statement. Zeke extended his right leg and feigned a slip on the non-existent slimy substance, grabbing her arm for support. She said; “Careful. If you get any of Castor’s brains on you, you’ll come up with worms.” Zeke bugged out his eyes, said; “Whooo,” and held her hand as they climbed the stairs.
They were both exhausted and flopped on the couch in front of the television, watching the end of “Lost Horizon,” where Ronald Colman, alone, in the middle of nowhere, desperately tries to re-find the entrance to Shangri-La.
The kids across the street were still wide awake after the night’s festivities. Some parents were still outside pointing
at and discussing the type of people they had the misfortune to share the road with. Encouraged by the overall tone of the pieces of conversation they picked up, the kids held their own meeting.
The smug chubby fourteen year old boy said; “I think we can have some more fun tomorrow.”
The smaller twelve year old boy sarcastically answered;
“Sure thing, Ace. That way the cops can arrest us.”
“And if they do, so what?”
“So nothing. I don’t want any jail time.”
“Our parents will bail us right out. And what can they charge us with anyway?”
“Trespassing, making threats, being nitwits. Should I go on?”
“You know, you’re a real chicken. I’m telling you that, worst case, we’ll spend a few hours at police headquarters and our parents will not dislike us for it.”
Bonnie and Zeke woke up to the pre-dawn “Early Report with Jane Wiggins.” After she breezed through the weather, headlines and market reports, the camera pulled back to reveal that she had a guest at her table, French author Jean Baptiste. His last book, “The Last Days of Planet Earth” was in the top ten for about a year, curiously classified as non-fiction.
“’The
Book of Revelation’ is playing out right in front of your face and you don’t see it clearly. You must repent. The end is upon us,” Baptiste chastised with a straight face.
Jane wasn’t sure if he was serious, joking, acting the crazy artist, promoting his book, or a combination of ideas and simply said; “How can you be so sure?”
“Because the Bible clearly says so. Don’t you good Americans still love all that judgment and punishment stuff?”
Now she was very confused. He was not saying what he was supposed to. Embarrassed at not knowing an immediate good answer she decided to chide saying; “Of course we do. We, perhaps, don’t see it as well as the FOREIGN interpreters.” She looked at him and forced a grimacing smile. She took out her note cards and put them prominently on the table. “And now let’s hear some questions that our viewers have. In Chapter 7
you state that the incidence of earthquakes have risen dramatically over the past two years. According to the National Weather Bureau...........”
Bonnie looked Zeke’s way, smiled and said; “Don’t worry.
The National Weather Bureau is going to save us.”
Zeke said; “I don’t understand why people listen to this kind of stuff.”
“Just like us, some laugh at it.”
Zeke said; “I’ve just thought of another possibility. Some are very serious about it and they think that if they can find the flaw in the particular argument the whole hypothesis is dismissed. They then think that they have nothing to worry about, not knowing that Armageddon is coming from a different direction, not yet detected.”
Bonnie was surprised and recalled how Zeke always had the knack of doing that to her. She slapped his knee and with wide pupils, said; “What a bleak outlook.”
“I didn’t say when. It might be eight million years from now.”
“Why is it inevitable?”
Zeke, not having any better answers than Jane Wiggins, paused, laughed and finally said; “Because the Bible says so.”
Bonnie blinked her eyes, smiled and said; “Did you forget
‘World without end. Amen.’”
They both continued to be genially amused. She said; “I used to get a real kick out of you, way back when. Even when you were five years old you’d say something weird and I’d laugh about it.”
“You know, I think I remember every day I spent in your class, everything you said and all the songs you sang.”
“You seem to have a problem remembering at least one thing I said during many classes.”
Zeke knew exactly what she meant and said; “I might have you on a technicality there. I’m not sure that you ever said it during class.”
He didn’t have any plans about how long he was staying. He couldn’t ever remember wanting to leave Bonnie. It usually took her ushering him out the door, to get rid of him. So he decided to set a departure date now, saying; “Bonnie, you know I don’t have any money, so is it all right if I stay here until the day after tomorrow?”
“At the very least,” was her reply. Since Bonnie had been tied to the house for a few days, Zeke offered to go food shopping for her and remembered the grocery store at the opposite end of the block. She said; “I’m going, too. I want to get out of here and you’ll probably buy all the wrong stuff, anyway.”
“Do you really want to be stared at? Those cuts on your face are pretty bad.”
“I can pretty much cover them over with makeup.”
Walking down the block was the strangest experience. It was like being in the middle of an earth about to quake, or being in the middle of a two-way street, or standing at the very spot where the rain ends. Their side of the road was as Zeke remembered with the old functional structures, while the other side was new and attempted to maximize design with noticeably
artificial, though colorful materials. The kids no longer played on the street. For some reason the little ones on the old side found a more comfortable playing spot by retreating to their back yards, perhaps seeking to avoid the constant stare of stoic lifeless windows.
They spent the remainder of the evening catching each other up with all their interesting activities of the past few years, sitting and drinking wine, in front of an unwatched television.
Zeke went into the kitchen to refresh his glass and looked out the window as the sun neared the very end of its visibility.
Perhaps he hadn’t noticed earlier in the day, but now that it had so little time remaining, the blue sky was now mixed with emerging light pink irregular tones, half and half, at the horizon. As the sun continued to set, it appeared as though the pleasant light blue and pink parts of the sky were being swallowed by the black night. He said; “You’ve got quite a window view here. It’s better than a bunch of paintings.”
They spent more time leisurely drinking and joking, when a noise was heard in the hallway. She turned off the television.
They heard another bump, something like a footstep and a shuffle. Bonnie’s eyes lit up with fear. She thought; “Bonnie, Bonnie. You forgot your own advice. You can’t think like that.” Zeke gave her hand a squeeze, took the scissors from the table and stood to the side of the door.
As she watched she wondered what else she could think. If it wasn’t a spirit, the other alternative was another nut in the flesh. She couldn’t think that way, either. She settled on
“Maybe it’s a friend,” but couldn’t feel convinced.
The banging became louder and they heard something say in a deep hoarse voice; “I know who you are and I know what you did.”
Bonnie dived head first into the couch crying out; “Please, please go away. I’m innocent. I’m sorry.”
Zeke then yelled out; “Are you talking to me or her?”
Not expecting to hear a male voice, the knowing ones were quiet. Zeke got bolder and said; “Do you even know who you’re talking to?” as he pulled the door wide open. He saw two early teenaged boys nearby, dressed in unmasked Halloween skeleton outfits. One took off down the stairs. The larger stood there and said; “Why are you defending this old witch?”
Zeke said; “Yesterday somebody called her an old witch, too. He’s now at the morgue.” He moved quickly at the child, scissors extended. He stopped when the fat kid decided to follow his friend.
Zeke went back in the apartment and found Bonnie crying face down on the couch. He sat near her back and put his right hand gently on her neck and shoulders.
She sat up and said; “I can’t stay here anymore. Take me back to New Mexico with you. I’ve been there before. After I
escaped the institution, I spent the best years of my life married to a guy named Hector Guiterrez. He didn’t think he was supporting me well enough, so he took a dangerous high paying job and died falling off the top of the highest mountain. I couldn’t stay there and came here.” She managed a laugh through the tears and added; “Now I can’t stay here and I think I can handle there.”
Zeke felt like everything inside him dropped to the floor.
He wondered what calamity didn’t happen to this wonderful woman.
Realizing that Bonnie was never one desiring pity, he showed none and softly said; “Sure, I’ll take you back to New Mexico.
I’d be honored.”
He looked at her distraught marked face and successfully held back the tears. She was so helpful and important in his life and countless others, despite her unfair suffering. He had seen so many others turn bitter in the face of less, while she proceeded to do good, as if she had decided; “I don’t want anyone to have to feel this badly again. At the very least I won’t contribute to the tragedy.”
She said; “Let’s go now.”
He choked out; “Now?” wanting to keep his conversation short, thereby not openly crying.
“Yes, now. If I think about it long enough I might change my mind and wind up staying in this battle zone. Next time I
might not be so lucky. Come on, crybaby.” Zeke thought; “Damn, she noticed.” They looked into each other’s eyes and each thought that they detected some wetness. Each sighed and closed their eyes for a second. Zeke put his right hand over her left.