The Mulligans of Mt. Jefferson

by Don Reid

  “Uncle Vic. Didn’t know I was looking so sour. But it’s already been a rough morning. Have you talked to Cal?”

  “No, I haven’t. We still getting together sometime today to compare notes?”

  “For sure. I’ll stop by or call you about lunchtime.”

  “Good boy. Where you going now?”

  “To see Harlan. Not to question him. Just to visit.”

  “So am I. I was just walking down the street to get my car.”

  “Ride with me. I’ll bring you back, and we’ll call Cal when we get through.”

  “Sounds like a winner.” Vic jumped in the police car beside Buddy as the light turned green.

  Buddy and Vic were walking through the front lobby and heading for the elevator when they spotted a man in a tie and shirtsleeves practically running toward them in an effort to cut them off.

  “Excuse me. Excuse me, please,” he called.

  Both men stopped short and looked at the man, who wore a worried and urgent expression.

  “I’m sorry to stop you, but aren’t you with the police department?”

  “Yes, I am,” Buddy answered.

  “We have a little problem here. Could I see you in my office, if you don’t mind?”

  Buddy followed the tall, thin man and motioned for Vic to come with him. All three walked back through the lobby to a suite of offices located behind the reception desk. When they had entered and closed the door, the man turned abruptly in the center of the room and began talking without offering anyone a seat or any further greeting.

  “I’m Arlo Stanley. I’m the hospital administrator here.”

  “I know who you are, Mr. Stanley. I’m Lieutenant Briggs. This is Vic Princeton. What can I do for you?”

  “Mr. Princeton. How do you do? We have a problem with a most unusual man. Since yesterday morning, we have a man who has taken up residence in that little alcove in the front lobby and won’t leave even when we close the front doors at eight p.m. He slept here all night last night, and when he was asked to leave, he became belligerent and refused to go.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “No. I wasn’t here, but I think he scared the staff, so they didn’t know what to do. When I got here early this morning I tried to reason with him and remove him, but he won’t budge.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “In the bathroom. He has been right outside this door in a corner chair, but he went to the bathroom just before you two walked in.”

  “Is he causing a disturbance?”

  “No, Lieutenant, he’s just sitting there. But we can’t have that. This is not a hotel. It’s a hospital, and you can’t just camp out in the lobby.”

  “Let’s go see if he’s back out here,” Buddy said as he turned for the door.

  “Lieutenant, please be careful. The man might be dangerous, and I’m responsible for the people in that lobby,” Arlo Stanley said curtly.

  “I understand, Mr. Stanley. So am I.”

  The man in question had resumed his position in a chair in the corner of the waiting room. He was not reading a magazine or talking to anyone sitting close to him. He was simply staring straight ahead at nothing and no one in particular.

  “Good morning, Fritz. I’ve been looking for you,” Buddy said quietly.

  “I be right here.”

  “Did you come to see Harlan?”

  “No.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “I can’t be here?”

  “Sure, you can be here. But you can’t stay here. Can’t sleep here all night. Why would you want to?”

  Fritz looked up and saw Vic standing behind Buddy and glared at him instead of answering the question. The stare over his shoulder went on so long that Buddy turned to look at Vic and then back at Fritz.

  “That’s Vic Princeton. You know him, don’t you?” Buddy asked.

  “I know him,” Fritz replied

  “We’re here to see Harlan. Would you like to go up with us and visit with him for a minute?”

  “No. I stay right here.”

  “You can’t stay right here, Fritz,” Buddy said firmly. “You have to go up and visit someone, or you have to leave. I’ll be glad to give you a ride home.”

  “Not necessary. I’m going nowhere,” Fritz said defiantly.

  “What’s the purpose for you being here if you’re not going up to see him?”

  “I’m sitting vigilance.”

  Buddy walked away a few steps and was followed by Vic and Arlo Stanley. Buddy said in low tones, only for their ears and in particular to Vic, “Do you know what’s going on?”

  “Yeah,” Vic said in a whisper. “He’s here to protect Harlan from his attacker. He’s a weird old duck. He’s not apt to leave peacefully. And I can’t help with him. He hasn’t talked to me for thirty years. He doesn’t like me. You may have to take him out of here physically.”

  “I don’t want to do that.” Buddy thought for a moment and then directed his thoughts to Arlo. “Can we use your office and your phone for a few minutes?”

  “Sure. Anything you need.”

  Buddy walked back to Fritz and whispered something in his ear. Fritz sat for a moment, stone-faced as ever, and then got up slowly and followed Buddy into the administrator’s office with Vic and Arlo Stanley close behind.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  As the solitude of H. V. Stone’s refuge was broken, he opened his eyes to welcome his visitor. But he knew even before he held him in his sights whose voice it was. And it made him smile from way down inside.

  “Well, I’ll be. Little Cal Vaxter. How in the world are you, son?”

  “I’m here to see how you are.”

  “In the hospital, flat on my back. How do you think I am?”

  “That doesn’t automatically rule out cake and icing does it?”

  “If my doctor was here, it would. But who’s going to tell?”

  They hugged. Cal’s lifelong next-door neighbor and H. V.’s son’s lifelong friend. Then Cal set the cake on a napkin, put it on the bedside tray, and carefully pulled a paper cup of punch from the bag in his hand. H. V. immediately sat up as if dessert was a prescribed medicine.

  “Turn that radio down some,” H. V. barked. “I can listen to that anytime. I want to hear about you. You a preacher yet?”

  “Still in school. I should graduate from seminary next summer.”

  “Then you’ll get your license and be ready for business.”

  “Yeah”—Cal laughed—“get my license.”

  “Well, it’s like any other business, is it not? You can’t turn a buck until you have the license on your wall. I have to get one every January.”

  Cal got comfortable in the chair by the bed while H. V. started in on the cake.

  “How was the wedding?” H. V. asked with his mouth full.

  “All done. You now officially have a daughter.”

  “Good. I like that girl. How about you? You got a girl?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. Met her in Durham. She’s from Kentucky.”

  “You going to marry her?”

  “Probably. But not for another fourteen months. I want school completely behind me before I take on anything else.”

  “Good thinking, son. And good cake, too.”

  They both laughed.

  “How did Harlan finally handle that best man thing? Did he kick you up from an usher? He said he might do that.”

  “No. Buddy and I were the ushers along with two of Darcy’s cousins. I don’t know their names.”

  “Aw. I thought he said you were going to stand in for me in the best-man spot. Who did it, then?”

  “Uncle Vic.”

  “Really?” />
  “What’s wrong? Does that bother you?”

  “A little. He always was vying for my position with Harlan. And yours, too, with your dad and Chub Briggs. I never said much, but it ate at me. I think Harlan felt closer to Vic a lot of times than he did me. You’ll understand that when you have kids. You don’t want anybody getting between you and your son.”

  “I don’t think Vic ever meant anything by it. He had no children of his own and he just …”

  “It ain’t my fault that he had no children of his own. If he’d stood up like a man, he could have had the woman he loved and all the family he wanted.”

  “I don’t follow you.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s all old news anyway.” H. V. gulped the punch and then said, “Somebody didn’t send you over here to talk to me, did they?”

  “No. Why would you think that?”

  “Forget it. I’m just having an ‘old man day.’ Feeling sorry for myself. And then I see you walk in here, and I’m all better again. It’s hard for me to think you’re almost a preacher. Little Cal Vaxter, that boy next door who stayed in trouble all the time from morning till night. You don’t get in trouble anymore, do you?”

  “Oh, yeah. Just about all the time. You know, Mr. Stone, I often …”

  “Call me Hershel. And let me tell you, Little Cal, I’m proud of you for what you’re making of your life. Religion ain’t easy. And for it to be your life work … well, I got all the respect in the world for you.”

  “Thanks. That means a lot. I always looked up to you when I was …”

  “You didn’t look up to me for religion. I know that for sure. You know, Little Cal, there might be something about me you don’t know even after all these years. Did you know I’m Jewish?”

  “Well, Hershel, I know you have Jewish blood in your veins, but I don’t know if you practice the faith.”

  There was a long but not really awkward break in the conversation. It was not as if one waited on the other as much as they both were waiting on a mutual meeting of the minds.

  “You’re right, son. Just the blood. I’m nothing. I haven’t stepped a foot inside a synagogue since I was twelve years old. So I won’t pretend. You know what bothers me most about all that? Esther. She was devout. Never missed a Sabbath. Then she hooked up with me, and I guess I pulled her down. Neither one of us have been in years and years. And Harlan … I guess never. You ever talk to him about religion?”

  “Yes. He’s got a lot of questions.”

  “I never had many answers. Guess that’s why I fell by the wayside. But then I don’t put much stock in your side of the coin either. You guys, you Protestants. You annoy me.”

  “How so?”

  “All of you read the same book, and then you get so many different meanings from it that you split up and have all kinds of brands of religion. Methodists. Presbyterians. Baptists. If there was one answer, there wouldn’t be so many brands of Protestants.”

  They both found the humor and irony in this and again laughed together.

  “You’re right,” Cal said. “We all read the same book and get different meanings from it. That’s why it’s so magical. It’s all things to all people no matter what they’re looking for. Your answer is in there and so is mine, even if we’re asking different questions.”

  “But aren’t we supposed to be looking for the same thing, son?”

  “We never do. But the beauty of it is that we find the same thing.”

  “Not me. I guess there’s not much hope for an old reprobate like me.”

  “It’s never too late, Mr. … It’s never too late, Hershel. There’s a parable about the laborers that …”

  “… come to work early in the morning and then some later in the day and then some at the end of the day but they all receive the same reward.” H. V. finished Cal’s sentence.

  Cal smiled and in mock surprise said, “You’ve been reading the New Testament?”

  “You’d be surprised at the things I know, son. But knowing it and believing it are two different things.” H. V. looked Cal intensely in the eye and asked softly, “Did you come over here tonight to save my soul?”

  “No. I came over here tonight to see an old and dear friend. I came over here tonight to see the father of one of my best pals. To see the man who first gave me credit when I was fourteen years old so I could buy my girlfriend a bracelet for Christmas. Nobody can get credit at that age, and you knew that, even if I didn’t. If I had never paid a cent, there was no way you could have collected. But you allowed me to establish a credit reference at twenty-five cents a week that has helped me and will help me all through my adult life. I came over here tonight to see the man who took me along on vacations to the beach more summers than I can count and gave me everything, penny for penny, he gave his own son and made me feel like an important part of the family. I came here tonight to see the man who picked my dog, King, up out of the street and carried him, cold and stiff, to the backyard so I wouldn’t see him lying in the road when I came home from school. I’m not sure your soul is lost. I think you’re just not real sure where it is.”

  H. V. Stone reached over and held Little Cal Vaxter’s hand so tightly his fingers turned white. Neither of them said a word, but the quietness of the room made the radio barely audible.

  The Senators had just pulled ahead with a home run.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Vic and Arlo sat just outside the administrator’s office door with the secretary, Fritz sitting between the two men, looking at neither but staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. Inside Arlo Stanley’s office, Buddy sat behind the administrator’s desk and dialed the hospital operator, asking to be connected to Harlan Stone’s room. He waited as the phone rang twice. On the third ring, someone picked up.

  “Hello.”

  “Darcy? This is Buddy.”

  “What have you found out?”

  “I found Fritz.”

  “Where was he?”

  “Here in the hospital all the time. I have him with me downstairs. How is Harlan?”

  “Better. He’s had something to eat this morning, and I think he’s a little stronger.”

  “Good. Let me talk to him.”

  There was a pause and sounds of movement through the phone as Buddy waited for the receiver to change hands two floors above him.

  “Hello.”

  “Well, if you’re well enough to eat, you’re well enough to get out of here.”

  “And when I do get out of here, the first thing I’m going to do is get something decent to eat.”

  “How about I bring you a cheeseburger from Mulligans for lunch?”

  “Don’t waste your time on a single cheeseburger. Bring me two.”

  “You got it. Now about Fritz. Darcy told you he was missing?”

  “Yeah. That old fool. Where was he?”

  “Sitting down here in the lobby. All day yesterday and last night. He’s been here nearly as long as you’ve been here, I guess. I have no idea how he heard about what happened. I haven’t gotten that out of him yet, but he refuses to leave and also refuses to come upstairs to see you. He just wants to ‘sit vigilance’ as he calls it.”

  “He is such an idiot. Dad was the only person in the world who could talk to him. He still won’t say anything to me half the time. Just sits and looks at me. Of course, he still does good work. But what a dolt.”

  “Well, he’s promised me if you talk to him on the phone, he’ll let me take him home. So I’m going to put him on, and you say whatever you want—but then encourage him to go home. Okay?”

  “Sure. Put him on.”

  Buddy walked to the outer office and motioned for Fritz. When he came in, Buddy handed him the phone and told him Harlan was on the line and wanted to speak with him. He
stood close to Fritz and listened as they talked.

  “This Fritz.”

  “Fritz? This is Harlan. I understand you’ve been concerned about me and I appreciate that. But I’m going to be all right. Everything is fine.”

  Harlan waited, apparently for a response, and when there was none, continued on.

  “How did you hear so quick about what happened to me yesterday morning?”

  “People talk at breakfast.”

  As Buddy listened, he had to think about that for a second to process what the old guy was meaning to say. That’s how all conversation was with Fritz. He gave only what he wanted, and you had to figure out the rest.

  “Oh. You mean you heard about it at breakfast. At Smitty’s Diner where you eat every morning,” Harlan asked.

  “Smitty’s. Yes.”

  “So anyway, Fritz, I’m going to be okay. Should be home in a few days and back to work pretty soon. You go on back home or to the store now. Buddy will take you wherever you need to go. All right?”

  “You safe?”

  “I’m safe. They’re taking good care of me here. Darcy is with me, and I’m going to be just fine. Talk to you later. Good-bye.”

  There was no good-bye from the other end. Fritz simply handed the phone back to Buddy and walked out the office door, through the lobby, and out the glass front doors leading to the parking lot.

  When Buddy and Vic came outside five minutes later, Fritz was standing by the police cruiser, smoking a hand-rolled cigarette, waiting for his ride.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  The bride and groom, under the new identity of Mr. and Mrs. Harlan Stone, left directly from the country club for their honeymoon. She had wanted Niagara Falls, and he had argued vehemently for New York City. This war of words had gone on for months, and the only logical way to settle it seemed to be to favor both sides. They would drive to the Falls to spend two days and then continue on to the Big Apple for three nights of celebrating. This appeased if not pleased them both.

  Their second day in upstate New York, Harlan sat on the balcony of their hotel and watched the tourists line up for the trek to one of nature’s most fantastic water displays. He had been there just that morning with Darcy and didn’t feel like going again that afternoon. Having water sprayed in his face was not something he cared to experience more than once. Darcy was lounging on the bed just inside the open sliding glass door in her light summer sweater and ankle-length skirt.