Toni L.P. Kelner - Laura Fleming 04 - Country Comes to Town

by Toni L. P. Kelner

  “I thought y’all had snow last night,” he said, “but it looks like everything’s open.”

  “We did get about six inches, but Boston doesn’t close down every time it snows, like Byerly does. They get the streets cleared pretty quick, so about the only real difference snow makes is messing up the sidewalks and making it even harder to find a place to park.” I pointed to a snowbank blocking two car lengths along the curb of a side street. “See what I mean? Makes me glad I don’t have a car.”

  “I’m right surprised that there’s so much traffic,” Thaddeous said. “I thought I’d miss it coming in on the weekend.”

  “This isn’t much traffic, Thaddeous. Wait until you live through rush hour.” I kept on pointing things out for him until I decided he was overloaded. Then I leaned back and watched him. Seeing his face made me remember how I had felt when I first came up North to go to college. Until then, the biggest city I had ever seen was Charlotte, and Boston had seemed magical to me. I envied Thaddeous, seeing it all for the first time.

  When we got to my street, the end was blocked with police cars, so I paid off the cab there and we walked the half-block that remained.

  My upstairs neighbor, a man I knew just enough to speak to, was standing on the steps of my building.

  “Hi, John,” I said. “This is my cousin, Thaddeous Crawford, from North Carolina.” The two men shook hands. “What’s going on?”

  “The police found a body in the alley behind the building,” he said.

  “Are you serious?”

  He nodded. “Some bum froze to death back there.” A car pulled up and honked its horn. “There’s my ride. See you later.”

  Thaddeous looked at me, but all I could say was, “Welcome to Boston.”

  Chapter 3

  It wasn’t exactly the introduction to my adopted city that I would have wanted for Thaddeous, but as I told him while we went inside and up the stairs to my apartment, such things did happen. “There are shelters,” I said, in defense of Boston, “but some homeless people don’t like them.”

  “It even happens in Byerly, sometimes,” Thaddeous said.

  “I suppose it does,” I said, though I didn’t much like the idea of that side of modern life affecting my hometown. “Anyway, this is a very safe neighborhood.” I might have been more convincing if I hadn’t had to unlock two locks and a deadbolt to get in my front door.

  “Take your coat off, and I’ll give you a tour.” Not that it would take long, I thought, as I took his coat and put it on the brass rack by the door. Housing costs are atrocious in Boston, especially in the Back Bay, where Richard and I live.

  “This is the living room. And the guest bedroom. The couch folds out, but it’s pretty comfortable.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He turned around to see the whole room, like Philip had, but while I hadn’t liked Philip looking at my things, I was glad to show them to Thaddeous. He was the first of the Burnette family to come up North to visit.

  “Those are the old Burnette property lines,” he said, looking more closely at a map I have framed on the wall.

  “Sure are.” The map might not be antique, but it is darned old. The Burnette family had once owned a good chunk of land in Byerly but had lost most of it during the Depression. Paw had left the map to me in his will as a reminder of where I come from, something he was always concerned that I’d forget. That’s what happens when you’re the only one from the family to move up North. Despite Paw’s concerns, or maybe partially because of them, I had grown closer to my family over the past few years.

  Then Thaddeous looked at Richard’s sword. “Don’t tell me you keep that up there to defend yourself.”

  “Well, gun laws are pretty strict up here,” I said, but I couldn’t keep a straight face. “It’s just decoration. Richard played Hamlet in college, and that’s the sword he used.”

  “I’d like to have seen that.”

  “It was something,” I said. My husband has a friendlier face than is traditional for the melancholy Dane, but he had carried it off with aplomb. As much as he quoted Shakespeare, speaking in iambic pentameter came naturally to him. And his frequently unruly hair was quite appropriate for those scenes where Hamlet is acting insane.

  I went into the kitchen, just off the living room. “The kitchen,” I said, unnecessarily. It was small, just enough room for the usual appliances and a table for two. I took a minute to show Thaddeous where I keep important stuff like glasses and silverware, then said, “I’ve got Coke in the refrigerator, and I made some iced tea this morning.” Unlike most Northern restaurants, I serve iced tea all year round.

  “In this weather, I’m surprised you’re not drinking coffee or hot chocolate.”

  “You call this cold?” I said airily. “For up here, this is a fine spring day.”

  “Uh huh,” he said, which told me that he didn’t believe a word of it.

  Continuing the tour, I pointed out the bathroom and then showed him the bedroom. It was good-sized, unusually so for a Boston apartment. One wall was lined with bookcases, all of which were filled.

  “You still read a lot?” Thaddeous asked.

  “You bet,” I said, “but some of these are Richard’s.” The room held a double bed, a dresser, a chest of drawers, and a tiny desk with my laptop computer on it.

  “That’s it,” I said. “Kind of tiny, compared to places in Byerly.”

  “It looks plenty big enough to me,” Thaddeous said. “And living right here in the middle of the city must be all kinds of exciting. It’s just the kind of place I’d imagined you and Richard living in.”

  That sounded like a compliment to me. “Thank you.”

  Thaddeous sat down on the couch, and I got us both something to drink before joining him and asking, “So what’s going on back home?”

  His answer took a while, because we had to go through every aunt, uncle, and cousin. Though Aunt Nora and I exchanged letters fairly often, there was always news I missed. Thaddeous’s parents, my Aunt Nora and Uncle Buddy, were both doing well, and Aunt Nora had recently talked Uncle Buddy into taking square-dance lessons. I found this hard to believe until Thaddeous reminded me that this was a way for Uncle Buddy to take Aunt Nora out without having to talk much. Thaddeous’s older brother, Augustus, was still in Germany with the Army, but he had recently taken a trip to France. His younger brother, Willis, was likely to be promoted to night shift supervisor within the month.

  Aunt Daphine had added a new hair stylist at her beauty parlor, and her daughter, Vasti, and son-in-law, Arthur, were reportedly trying for a baby. Thaddeous looked at me meaningfully when he said that, probably because I’m a couple of years older than Vasti, but I didn’t say a word about Richard’s and my plans in that direction, and he moved on.

  Aunt Nellie and Uncle Ruben had finally given up trying to sell water filters door-to-door, but they were looking into the idea of starting a video rental place in Byerly. For most people, this could be a good idea, but with Aunt Nellie and Uncle Ruben, it was probably a recipe for disaster. Their three daughters—triplets Ideile, Odelle, and Carlelle—had been trying to talk them out of it, but Thaddeous didn’t give a whole lot for their chances.

  Aunt Edna was still seeing her beau, Caleb, and the family was expecting a proposal any time now. The fly in the ointment was Edna’s son, Linwood, who wasn’t ready to let any man replace his late daddy.

  Aunt Ruby Lee and Uncle Roger, newlyweds for the second time, were certainly acting the part. She’d started accompanying him to most of the performances of Roger’s Ramblers, his country music band, and was starting to learn how to manage the group. It looked like their three children, or rather their daughter and Aunt Ruby Lee’s two sons from previous marriages, were going to form their own band. Thaddeous had brought a cassette of some of their practice sessions, and he pulled it out so we could listen to it.

  While it played, Thaddeous asked me how Richard and I had been doing, but that didn’t take nearly so long
to tell. Thaddeous already knew that Richard had gone to England to teach a class for Boston College students in Stratford-upon-Avon and to see as many Shakespeare productions as he could squeeze into a month. It was a wonderful opportunity for him, and though I wasn’t crazy about him being away from home that long, I wasn’t about to ask him to miss it. As for me, work had kept me pretty busy for the past few months, but the project I was on was finally winding down. “So your timing for coming up is perfect,” I said.

  “Then you think you’ll have time to show me around a little?”

  “Absolutely! I’ll be finished up with my project by the first part of this week. Speaking of showing you around, are you hungry?”

  “I am, at that. They fed me on the plane, but it wasn’t hardly enough food to bother with.”

  “I thought we could go out for an early dinner.”

  “We don’t have to go out. Whatever you’ve got here would be fine.”

  “Oh, no, this is your vacation. Let’s celebrate.” I didn’t want to admit that Richard and I almost never cook. Our kitchen, like so many in Boston, is so tiny that it’s a pain to fix anything in it. And the apartment itself is so small that the smell of anything we do cook lingers for days. “What are you in the mood for? I know good places for American, Italian, Mexican, Tex-Mex, Chinese, Thai—even Argentinean, if you’re feeling adventurous.”

  With all those choices, it took us forever to decide, and the doorbell rang just as we had picked a place.

  “Lord, I hope that’s not Philip again,” I said.

  “Who’s Philip?” Thaddeous asked.

  “I’ll tell you later,” I said, and pressed the intercom button. “Hello?”

  “This is Detective Salvatore of the Boston Police. May I have a word with you?”

  “Certainly,” I said, and rang him in. Thaddeous looked curious, but no more than I was. I opened the door and waited.

  Detective Salvatore was a trim, dark-haired man, dressed in a plain blue suit and a black overcoat. He had his wallet out as he came up the stairs and held his badge out for me to see. “May I come in?”

  “Please do.”

  Thaddeous stood, obviously not sure what the proper etiquette was for a visit from the Boston Police.

  “Is there a problem?” I asked.

  “I’ve just got some questions I need to ask. Now, you’re Laura Fleming.”

  “Yes, sir.” The “sir” was automatic, brought on by my mother’s training.

  “Would you be Mr. Fleming?” he said to Thaddeous.

  “No, sir. I’m Thaddeous Crawford, Laura’s cousin.”

  “My husband is out of the country,” I said, a little relieved. If he had come to tell me that Richard was in trouble, he’d have known that already.

  “Mrs. Fleming, are you aware that a deceased individual was found behind your building this afternoon?”

  “Yes. One of the neighbors told me when we came in a little while ago.”

  “We found your name and address on a piece of paper in his pocket.”

  I stared at him. “You’re kidding.”

  “No, ma’am, I’m not.”

  I thought of something, or rather, somebody. “Do you know who it is?”

  “There’s been no formal identification, but there was ID found on the body.”

  I didn’t want to ask, but I had to. “Is it Philip Dennis?”

  “Then you know this man?”

  “Yes, I do. He was here last night.”

  Salvatore looked more alert all of a sudden. Thaddeous, on the other hand, lost every bit of expression. I realized how that must have sounded. My husband was out of town, and here I was, admitting that I had had a man in my apartment.

  I quickly added, “Philip Dennis is an old friend of mine. I hadn’t seen him in ages, but he showed up here last night and told me that he didn’t have anyplace to go. He wanted to stay here for a while, but I told him he couldn’t, and he left.”

  “And what time would that have been?” Salvatore asked.

  “Around six, six-thirty.”

  “Before the snow?”

  “Yes, sir. I went out for groceries after that, and it wasn’t snowing when I left.”

  Salvatore relaxed a bit. “He must have died sometime after he left here. There was snow on the body, but not as much as there would have been if he had been out there all night. Could you step outside a minute and see if you recognize him?”

  “Of course,” I said.

  “I’ll come with y’all, if it’s all the same,” Thaddeous said.

  “No problem,” Salvatore said, and I was glad of that. I had seen dead bodies before, but it wasn’t something I enjoyed.

  Thaddeous and I put on our coats and followed Salvatore outside. A pair of uniformed police officers allowed the three of us to go down the narrow alley beside my apartment building to get to the wider alley in back, lined with dumpsters from the block’s apartment buildings. Ribbons of yellow tape kept people back from an area near the end of the alley.

  At the very end of the alley was a white van with blue letters that said “Chief Medical Examiner.” Next to it was a stretcher with a shiny black body bag on it, obviously filled. A number of police officers were milling around, measuring and taking photos, but they took no notice of Thaddeous and me.

  “Is it all right if we take a look?” Salvatore asked a woman who was holding on to the stretcher.

  “Help yourself,” she said. “The doctor’s done with him for now.”

  Salvatore leaned down and unzipped the top of the bag, as if it were a sleeping bag, and pulled it down just far enough for me to see the face.

  “Is this the man you were talking about?”

  I could tell right away, but I took a couple of deep breaths before answering to make sure my voice was under control. “Yes, sir. That’s Philip.”

  Chapter 4

  Philip didn’t look bad, exactly. First off, there wasn’t much expression on his face, for which I was grateful. There was what looked like a bruise on his forehead, and his coloring was funny, I guess from being out in the cold. Or maybe just from being dead. Like Salvatore said, there was some snow encrusted on his hair and eyelashes. He didn’t look bad, but somehow he looked very sad.

  “Did Mr. Dennis have that mark on his forehead when you saw him?” Salvatore asked.

  “No, sir.”

  “Had he been drinking?”

  “I don’t think so. I know I didn’t smell it.” It was hard for me to remember that he had been in my apartment less than twenty-four hours before, annoying but very alive.

  Thaddeous put his arm around me. “I think she’s seen enough.”

  Salvatore nodded and zipped Philip back up again. Then he called over to one of the other police officers. “We’ve got our ID.” A young officer came over immediately with a pad and pen. “Mrs. Fleming, would you know who Mr. Dennis’s next of kin would be?”

  “His wife, I guess. Colleen Dennis.”

  “Address and phone number?”

  I shook my head. “I know they have a house in Cambridge, but I’m not sure where.”

  Salvatore nodded at the uniformed officer, and he scurried away. “I know this must be upsetting for you, but I’m going to have to ask some more questions.”

  “I understand.”

  “Could we go back inside?” Thaddeous asked.

  “That would be fine.”

  The three of us made our way back up the alley, Thaddeous keeping his arm around me and staying right next to me, even though there really wasn’t enough room for us to walk two abreast. There was a small crowd gathered out front, murmuring rumors, and they looked at us curiously. We went back up to the apartment without speaking, and when Thaddeous and I took off our coats, Salvatore did the same, and we all sat down.

  “I’d like to get a little background information, if I may,” Salvatore said, and pulled out a notepad and pen.

  I dutifully answered questions about my age and occupation, and the s
ame about Richard. He even took down information about Thaddeous.

  “You say you two are cousins?”

  “Yes, sir,” Thaddeous said. “First cousins. Our mamas were sisters, but Laura’s mama passed away a good while back.”

  “Do you live around here, Mr. Crawford?”

  “No, sir. I live in Byerly, North Carolina. We were both raised there.”

  “Now, I can hear Mr. Crawford’s accent, but Mrs. Fleming, you don’t seem to have much of one.”

  “It comes and goes,” I admitted. “I’ve been up here a while. I went to school in Cambridge.”

  “Harvard or MIT?”

  “MIT. That’s where I met Philip.”

  “Did you two keep in touch?”

  “No, we didn’t. I hadn’t seen Philip in years.”

  “And how many years would that have been?”

  “Three, I think. A friend of ours had a party, and we ran into one another then.” I hadn’t much enjoyed the party, mostly because of Philip. Despite the rest of us trying to change the subject, he had made snide remarks about Shakespeare’s “real” identity the whole time, trying to annoy Richard.

  “But he had your address.”

  “He said Jessie gave it to him. Jessie Boyd. She’s a mutual friend who works at the same company as Philip.”

  “And what is that company?”

  “Statistical Software, Inc., in Cambridge.”

  “Were you and Mr. Dennis close friends?”

  “We used to be. I dated Philip for a couple of years when we were in college.”

  “I take it that you and he parted on good terms?”

  I shook my head. “Not at all. I broke up with him and started dating Richard a little while after.”

  “Richard would be your husband?”

  “Right. Philip didn’t think I was serious about breaking up. When I finally got the message across that I meant it, he was pretty mad.”