Paper Alley, page 9
Stony Grove had reached a tipping point where the homes rented to students exceeded the number of homes occupied by permanent residents. The situation had caused a deterioration of the wage tax base and challenged the public services departments. Town council posts were lifetime positions. No one could remember an election where a challenger ran against a council member. The mayor was third generation; his father had been mayor before him, and his grandfather was mayor before him. No one alive could remember a mayor by a different last name than Whipple. It had all worked well for some, but the system was showing signs of sickness.
Foremost, the houses were showing their age. The landlords had failed to reinvest in their properties. The students lived in squalor. Basements were damp, electrical systems outdated, plumbing systems suffered chronic failures. Tree-lined streets looked peaceful on the surface, while roots ripped at rusted pipes under the street. Orange-stained plumbing fixtures in the homes were the norm. On a regular basis, the housing inspector issued occupancy permits for properties needing to be condemned. Yet he turned down permits for properties in good condition owned by the wrong person. The biggest threat to the system came from recent construction of an interstate three miles from town. The interstate allowed for quick transport into the city. New housing developments were springing up on the outskirts of town. The new residents brought change to the political demographics. The town fathers and their political futures were becoming more unstable.
The black Escalade slid into a reserved parking space in front of town hall. The driver’s door swung open, dinging the door of the car parked beside it. The driver struggled to free his mass from the confines of the steering wheel. He emerged into the light of day, his skin pasty, black circles etched beneath his eyes that made him appear older than his forty-five years. Breathing with exertion, he struggled up the concrete steps leading to the doorway of the town hall. From there he pushed open the door, banging the wall, and headed straight for the mayor’s office.
“Val! How are you this fine day?”
The mayor sprawled in an overstuffed, overpriced leather chair, behind a desk better suited to a New York law firm. He puffed on a cigar, blowing smoke like a steel mill into the air above his head.
“Cut the crap, Joe. Those thieves on Elm are still there.”
Val leaned forward, both of his chubby hands gripping the edge of the desk.
“Yeah . . . we’re working on it, Val. We turned down their occupancy permit for the basement apartment. I gave him some grief over his remodeling. He cleaned out the front yard before I could take legal action. There is only so much we can do.”
The mayor snuffed out his cigar in the ashtray.
“Legal? What the . . .”
“Val, come on in. The hallway has ears.”
Joe Whipple got up to close the door. It wouldn’t open again for almost two hours. Their conversation consisted of a series of directives issued to the mayor by Val, who returned to the Elm Street encroachment on his territory.
“I own the rental house across Elm Street from the Winslows.” He wiped his brow with a kerchief as he labored to breathe. “You tell the boys to leave those kids who live there alone. Any complaints about them—ignore as if they were being lodged at me. You got it? They’re my kids, I own them.”
“Yeah, Val, gotcha.”
“No. I got . . . cha. Don’t ever forget Valenta Wentreck owns you and this town.” Val pulled the door shut behind him.
Val struggled to his Escalade. He stood by the driver’s door catching his breath and looked about the parking lot with contempt, then stuffed himself behind the wheel and pulled away.
Val had made community offerings, such as a piece of land for a park. He named the park after his father. He never hurt himself financially except when he went to a casino or a pony track, gambling being something of a compulsion. Like his undisciplined consumption, it was a pastime he could not deny. He always said it was a good deal if the person across the table from him had tears in their eyes and by no means did he mean tears of joy. Yet at the blackjack table, many times Val had walked away broken. The gift of the land for the park came about because it was useless land with no development potential. This gift of land to the town gained Val many backroom political advantages and promises.
###
When Julie returned home from school, Dan was gone. She heard Klaare’s television and giggles in the basement. Her tension faded. She had been hesitant before opening the front door. The sounds of giggling in the basement made her feel silly about her apprehension. She tossed her keys onto a tray on a small table by the door. Before they were done jingling, she heard footsteps on the basement stairs. A faint tapping on the basement door, then a voice whispered, “Ms. Winslow, you are home?”
“Yes, Klaare.” Julie walked to the basement door and unlatched it. “It sounds like you are enjoying a good show.”
“Oh yes, I’m watching I Love Lucy again. It is so funny.”
“Good. Hearing you made me feel comfortable. It is so nice having you with us. Do you need something?
“Well, a man stopped by. I hope I didn’t do a bad thing by answering my outside door. He asked me what I was doing in this house. He asked me if I lived in the basement. I told him I did.” Klaare’s face melted into a frown. Her eyes broke contact with Julie’s.
“Who was he? What happened?”
“He said he was the building inspector. He said you do not have a permit to allow me to stay. Oh, Mrs. Winslow, I am so sorry. I can’t believe I will have to move.”
“You aren’t moving. Dan will handle this when he gets back. Don’t fret over this. You did the right thing. You have to tell the truth.”
“I am sorry, Mrs. Winslow. In Estonia no one speaks up to the authorities. It is suicide.”
“Well, this is America, not Estonia. Please call me Julie. Would you like some tea?” Julie signaled Klaare to come into the kitchen and closed the basement door.
“Oh yes, please. It would be nice to sit with you.”
Julie filled a kettle with water, placing it on the stove. “Have you given any more thought to looking for a church with me?”
“Religion is superstition. It might not be approved for me to do such a thing.”
“No one needs to know. It can be just between us girls. Personal choices are no business of the government.”
“Oh no, I report everything I do, when I call Estonia. They want to have a complete report of my activities.”
“Have you told them about how much you love Lucy?”
Klaare struggled but she could not keep from breaking into a grin. Her eyes twinkled.
“Aha! I didn’t think so.” They both chuckled.
“It’s your life, Klaare. You don’t owe it to anyone to report your every move.”
“But they have paid my expenses. I do owe them.”
“How were you picked? I’ll bet you were chosen because you have done well in school.”
“Yes, it is true.”
“Coming here is your reward for years of hard work, Klaare.”
There was silence as Julie placed cups, saucers, and tea caddies on the table.
“Ms. Julie, I have special tea downstairs from Estonia. Would you like to try some?” Klaare stood up.
“I would.”
Klaare scurried down to her apartment to retrieve her treasured tea. Julie walked into the living room to secure the old Bible she had found in the trash in the front yard. She had never opened it, as she had her own favorite Bible. This old one would be good enough to loan to Klaare. When Klaare reentered the kitchen, Julie was seated at the table holding the Bible on her lap, hidden from view.
Klaare smiled, placing her bag of tea on the table. “I brought this from Estonia. It is very special tea. When we are done, I will read the tea leaves. It will tell us the future.”
“Now, Klaare, I think that is superstition. You don’t believe the tea leaves can tell you anything, do you?”
“No, Ms. Julie, religion is superstition. Reading the tea is not. You will see. A gypsy woman taught me how to read the tea leaves.”
“I don’t have a tea ball to put loose leaves in.”
“Oh, we will just put the tea in our cups. It will sink to the bottom before we sip it. You will see.”
Julie poured hot water into their cups, and Klaare pinched long tea leaves in. They sat letting the tea brew as they talked.
“How are Zane and Trent?”
“When he wants something, Zane is the boy I used to know, after he gets what he wants.” Julie shrugged. “What worries me is he has made peace with the kids who were harassing him.”
“It’s not a good thing?”
“I don’t think they are the type to be called friends. Zane doesn’t know anyone else here, so I think he just wants to fit in. It is a dangerous situation to be involved in.”
“Yes, I see. Who are these kids?”
“I’ve talked to the school counselor. He says they are bad news. The ringleader is the son of a professor, Dr. Bell.”
“He is my political science teacher.”
“You know him?”
“Oh, Ms. Julie, he is not someone you would like. The first day of class he said there is no God. He said the American Constitution restricts the government from helping people. He said Americans’ rights come from the state, not God. He talks like my teachers back in Estonia.”
“You’re right, I wouldn’t like him. Why not present the Constitution and have a discussion about it, rather than issue politically correct opinions.”
“I didn’t think much of it, other than I was surprised an American would say such things.”
Julie held a poker face and tried not to overreact to hearing this revelation of the professor’s atheism. In fact, she had suspected it of the two professors she knew, although they had never said so directly. Klaare rambled on about the similarities she had observed so far between America and Estonia. “Estonia is more modern than America. You have a lot of old buildings here.”
Julie listened with a half grin. “Klaare, where did you grow up?”
“In Estonia.”
“I mean, what was your neighborhood like?”
“Oh, I lived in a boarding school. My father is a general in the army. He did not want me to live on a military base. My boarding school is very near the university. It was an easy transition for me to start my college life.”
“Well, have you traveled much around Estonia?”
“No, it is too dangerous. My father forbade me to travel except to come here.”
Sheltered, Julie thought, this girl has led a sheltered life. Julie squeezed the Bible she held in her hands beneath the table. She was hesitant to present it. Klaare might take offense if it appeared she was pushing too much. Julie brought her hand from under the table to raise her teacup to her lips. The tea leaves had indeed settled to the bottom.
“I want you to have something while you are here. It’s an old one, but they don’t change. Please just look it over when you have time.” Julie brought the Bible from under the table and placed it in front of Klaare.
“It looks very old. Wait, is it a Bible? I have never seen a Bible before. This is your book of superstitions? Thank you, it will be interesting. I will not be able to take it back home with me; it is forbidden.”
“I understand, it is fine, I just thought if we go to church together, you should have a Bible to look at.”
“Yes, it will help me understand what is going on. Yes?”
Julie was amazed. All her worrying had been for naught. Klaare was a paradox. She had no idea how to read this girl. After they sipped their tea, Klaare asked to read her tea leaves. She took Julie’s cup with a smile, but when she looked into the cup, her face quickly changed. The alarm on Klaare’s face startled Julie.
“Klaare, what is it? Tell me.”
Klaare put down Julie’s cup. She looked at Julie with a blank expression, then smiled.
“It says nothing; sometimes the tea leaves say nothing. It’s all superstition.”
“Klaare, I don’t believe you. Tell me what you saw.”
Klaare jumped up, clutching the Bible. “I will go read now. The tea leaves say nothing.” Klaare bowed. “Thank you, Ms. Julie, this was very nice.”
Julie sat alone with her imagination and doubts as Klaare disappeared down the stairway. The only sure thing she knew, Klaare was distraught.
And Julie would be alone after dark.
TEN
Dan pulled into the bait shop parking lot. Before the dust settled, he stood on the porch scratching Buck behind the ear. There was no sign of Lee, and it was getting late in the day. He broke into a coughing fit; it left him breathless.
“Hey, Buck, where’s Lee? Is he somewhere about?” Buck panted through a doggie grin but offered no clue as to Lee’s whereabouts.
Dan stepped inside the store. He could see the entire interior from just inside the door. Still no sign of Lee. He grabbed a bottle of water, twisted off the top, and took a long swig. It washed the dust from his throat, yet still he coughed. There weren’t even whittling shavings on the floor of the porch. The mare, Dan thought, stepping to the end of the porch. He looked toward the shade of the giant oak where Lee’s mare spent her days. No sign of her either. Dan had come seeking answers to questions aroused by his search at the library and courthouse. Now he had more questions and even fewer answers.
He sat down on the porch steps. Buck sat beside him, and they waited. Dan felt a tickle in his throat, coughing again. The parking lot dust was settled. Strange, he thought. Something had been irritating his throat, but he had never been allergic to dust. It didn’t feel like a cold.
###
Ed Knight strolled into the fire department garage where a couple of volunteers were polishing one of the trucks. Ed had been a volunteer for years, but these days he just hung out with the boys at the station. They played cards in the evening, joked about old times, and waited for calls. Ed’s back had gone bad, and the doctor told him firefighting was in his past. Still Ed didn’t break the habit of loafing with the firemen. He oversaw fundraising and the monthly fish fry.
“Ed, how are you doing there, my brother?” Hank Davidson put his arm around Ed’s shoulder, squeezing him. Hank stood a head taller than Ed. He was this year’s fire chief.
“Good, Hank. Anybody up for a game?”
“No, I don’t think so. We have a lot on our plate right now, but glad you stopped by.”
“Why? What’s up, Hank?”
“Val asked me to talk to you about some things. We need to go into my office for some privacy.” Hank paused to look at Ed, who avoided direct eye contact even though Hank was his longtime friend. “Look, Ed, I want you to know this ain’t from me. I’m just the messenger. Come in.”
Ed’s face went gray at the sound of Val’s name. Ed followed Hank into the chief’s office and closed the door behind him.
“Sit down, Ed. Make yourself comfortable.” Hank dropped into his overstuffed chair flipping open a box of Cuban cigars. “Grab a few, one for now and some for later. Val dropped them off.”
“No thanks, just tell me what this is all about.”
“You know Val. He takes care of his people. He’s going to take care of you.” Hank didn’t sound like he believed his own words.
“Take care of me? How’s that, Hank?”
“He says the time has come for you to turn over your house, Ed.”
“Turn over my house? What do you mean?”
Hank played with his cigar, then took a long puff before speaking. His words flowed in smoke. “Look, Ed, we’ve had some good times, all of us have. We’re a brotherhood, right?”
Ed stared at Hank without responding. Hank knocked the ash from his cigar.
“You knew when you bought the house, Val let you outbid him. Remember, Ed, Val told you there would come a time when he would make it his. He told you that because you were one of the brothers. He could wait until the time was right. Well, the time is right, Ed. You’re moving out.”
“What if I say I don’t want to?”
“Ed, you don’t want to go there, do you? I mean, look, we all know each other better than our wives know us. We’ve all had our fun and covered for each other. Val’s got the goods on you. And, well, there are photos. You don’t want to have him unleash on you. He knows enough to ruin any one or all of us. He said he’ll pay you market value.”
“Why now?”
“Don’t question him, Ed. Just take the money and move on. You know how costly a divorce is. Don’t risk it. Your old lady would flip out if she knew some of the things we’ve done.”
“Right, and the whole thing would snowball, Hank. There would be collateral damage.”
“It’s why I was chosen to be the one to talk to you. Hey, Ed, what’s the big deal? It’s just a house.”
Ed sat staring at the floor. Val owned all of them. The house would be a small price to pay for silence, peace of mind.
“No big deal. Tell Val to start the paperwork. I’ll tell Mary tonight. She won’t be happy.”
“She won’t know it, but she’ll be happier than she would be the other way. She’ll get over it. You’re doing the smart thing, Ed. Val wouldn’t even give a second thought to destroying all of us.”
###
Dan coughed again, a tight dry cough. Buck whimpered and put up a paw as if he knew something serious was in the making. Dan roughed the scruff of Buck’s neck. The snort of a distant horse caught Dan’s attention. He looked toward the old bridge in time to see Lee pop up over the creek bank. The sun sat low behind him, splashing shades of pink behind gray clouds. Lee’s silhouette had a ghostly appearance.
