The Amazing Adventures of Aaron Broom

by A. E. Hotchner

  Augie raised his head and said, “He left me a note attached to a beautiful broach with diamonds and rubies.” He opened the box, took out the note, and read: “This is the last piece of your mother’s jewelry. Her jewelry box is now empty. We are down to our last few dollars but I can’t bear to sell it, and then what? Out on the street, me back on the curb with all the other apple sellers, begging, us trying to get by on the few pennies you earn. So I leave you this beautiful broach which should provide you with enough to get along for a while. I’ve spoken to my cousin Leonard in Keokuk and he has agreed to take you in and maybe find you some kind of work. Please go back to school soon as you can. You are a noble and intelligent boy destined to go places. Marry well and if you should have the good fortune of having a son please name him after me so I can continue to love you and be a part of your family.” Augie put the broach back in the box.

  I had tears in my eyes. “A wonderful man, Augie, so full of love. What are your plans?”

  “I thought about staying and helping you out with your dad, but after tomorrow I think it’s best I get out of here.”

  “What’s tomorrow?”

  “The funeral. My dad belonged to a funeral society so it’s all paid for—the transfer, the casket, the McKinley Funeral Parlor, the cremation,” suddenly shouting, “all that shit!” He was embarrassed. “I’m not handling this very well.”

  “How about we hang out tonight?”

  “I’d like to but I have lots of stuff to tend to. The apartment’s furnished but there’s his clothes and a few books and stuff like that.”

  “You keeping anything?”

  “No. It all has the stink of giving up, but there’s something you can do for me.”

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “Come to McKinley’s tomorrow. I’d rather not be there by myself.”

  “Of course I’ll come. Mind if I bring a few people…like Ella and her mom?”

  He perked up a bit at that. “Sure, I’d like to say goodbye to her.”

  He picked up the package his father had left him, opened it, taking out its contents: the family Bible, a bus ticket to Keokuk, six one-dollar bills, cuff links, a compass, a silver fountain pen, a bundle of letters from his mother, opera glasses, wristwatch, and the beautiful broach. He took them into the bedroom and packed them carefully in his suitcase except for the six dollars which he put in his pocket.

  “I don’t know about moving in with this cousin. I never met him, in fact, never heard of him. I guess he has a family. I’m not really up to all that.” He took a long, thinking pause. “I’ll probably be better off on my own, starting with the six dollars.”

  * * *

  —

  WALKING DOWN the stairs from Augie’s place I felt terrible, like I was deserting him. Even though he wanted to be alone, I still felt I should have stayed with him, not walked away, down these stairs. I myself was alone for the time being so I sort of knew the feeling but I had a mother and a father who were still in my life only not for now.

  But Augie had been suddenly cast adrift, in a terribly sad way. Finding his father dead in a chair like that. Feeling now that he had to get away from this bad-luck life but totally unsure that Keokuk was the place to drop anchor, either with or without his cousin.

  Happening 31

  When I showed up at the door of Ella’s shack-tent there was a mouthwatering aroma in the air. Ella came to the door and asked me in. She and her mom were making corn bread in a skillet, cooking over a flame from a Sterno can. I apologized for disturbing them.

  “Can you imagine,” Ella said. “I went to the hardware store down the block to buy a can of Sterno and when I got there the owner was putting an ‘Out of Business’ sign on the door. He gave me all his Sterno cans for five cents, the price of one can. ‘Nobody buys anything,’ he said, ‘so what’s the use?’ My God how the world’s gone sad.”

  Mrs. McShane cut a corner piece of the corn bread from the skillet for me to taste.

  “You’re right, Ella, the world is a really sad place.” I then told them the terrible fate of Augie and his father and how Augie had a bus ticket to Keokuk after the funeral and would they please come to McKinley’s the next day for his sake.

  “He found his father like that?” Ella said, her voice breaking as she bent her head and hooded her eyes with her hands. Her mother came over and hugged me and said, “Of course we’ll come.”

  Ella looked up, wiping at her tears. “Is Augie all right?” she asked.

  “He’ll be glad to see you,” I said.

  * * *

  —

  IT WAS a long shot to find the boys who were baking those potatoes in that drum. I finally did find the drum but it was not fired up and no one was around. I figured, though, that the boys must be from shacks nearby. I went door to door knocking on shacks in the vicinity and one knock paid off when the boy named Frank, who was the nice one who gave me the potato, answered the door.

  “Remember me?” I said.

  “Sure, you’re the kid that drop-kicked big Jim in the balls.”

  “Is he all right?”

  “Oh, sure.” He laughed. “It straightened him out.”

  I told him about Augie and the funeral and asked if he would come and bring somebody. “I know it’s pushy of me to ask,” I said, “since he’s a stranger, but he’s a really good guy who shouldn’t have to bury his dad without some people with him in the room with the casket.”

  “My pop got killed in the war and me and my mom never had the chance to bury him, so I’m glad to be able to be there for your friend.”

  * * *

  —

  AUGIE CAME early and he was pleased to greet Ella and her mother when they arrived. It was a small room, the open coffin in front. There was canned organ music playing soft chords.

  Frank showed up and to my good surprise brought Roger and big Jim, the potato-drum threesome. I introduced them to Augie and to Ella and Mrs. McShane. Big Jim made it a point of being friendly with me which is what Vernon had predicted about bullies. “Knock ’em down they’ll get up lickin’ your boots.”

  Watching through the window, I saw Vernon arrive with Arthur. I went outside to join them on the sidewalk. They were both dressed up neat with neckties. I opened the door and they followed me in. As we approached the room where Augie was, a tall man slickly dressed in a black suit, white shirt, black tie, a handkerchief with three points in his breast pocket intercepted me. “I’m Donald McKinley,” he said, “anything I can do for you?”

  “No, thanks,” I said, “we’re here for the ten o’clock funeral. I know the room.”

  “Well,” he said, looking straight at Vernon and Arthur, “there is a rule here, like most funeral places…what’s your name?”

  “Aaron Broom. I have a rule too. My friends and I honor those of us who die. That’s your business, isn’t it? To honor the dead?”

  “Yes,” he said, flustered, “but there is—”

  “Good. That’s what we’re going to do.” We went right by him. “Goin’ onto the flame,” Arthur mumbled, “we’s all the same.” McKinley made a few gurgling sounds but did not follow us into the room.

  We were eight in all now, not counting Augie, and I felt good that we were there for him, sitting in that group of straight-back wooden chairs. Augie got up and faced us.

  “Thank you all for coming,” he said, “to help a stranger say goodbye to his father. He was a fine man, did good things in his life for the people around him especially my mother and me. His love for my mother was a beautiful thing but when she died it left a hole in him that couldn’t be filled. Then without her there to help him as he began to lose everything, to keep him from giving up and being defeated and broken down, I tried to help him, honest I did, but he lost his spirit, lost everything. But during the good years, all the solid things he taught me wi
ll stay with me and help me all my life. May God bring him peace.”

  He turned to the coffin, took one last look at his father, placed his hand on his chest, then slowly brought down the lid of the coffin. He leaned his forehead against the polished top and let his mind send a final farewell.

  We all sat in prayerful silence, heads down, as Vernon began to sing very quietly, Arthur joining him, softly harmonizing:

  Shine the light, brother

  Light up the way

  Shine the light, brother

  Light up the way

  Shine the light, brother

  Light up, light up the way

  Augie picked up his head and faced them. Vernon and Arthur stood up, locked arms.

  All the way, brother

  Through night, through day

  All the way, brother

  Through night, through day

  All the way, brother

  Light up the way

  He’s comin’

  He’s comin’

  He’s comin’ to stay

  Praise the Lord, brother

  He’s comin’ to stay

  Two attendants came in and wheeled the coffin away. I got to my feet and said, “Augie, you’re now facing the unknown, but you’re not facing it alone—your father’s soul is with you. That note he left you to marry well and if you have the good fortune of having a son to give him his name so he can continue to love you and be a part of your family, that is his soul, Augie, he is sending you his soul and before his body reaches the fire his soul will be a part of you and your son-to-be. In the short time you and I have known each other, we have been like brothers and I hope in all my heart that your life will reward you for being the fine person you are.”

  * * *

  —

  ON THE way out, standing at the door, Mr. McKinley was all toothy smiles. He came to Vernon as we were walking out. “That was marvelous singing,” he said, “and I wondered if you and your friend would be available to sing…”

  We just kept walking.

  Happening 32

  I went to the Mercantile building early because I was very nervous. I had everything ready for Lawyer Appleton but there was no way of knowing if my stuff would be good enough for him to do something lawyerly for my father. I took his card out of my pocket and rubbed my fingers over the raised letters of Gary, Appleton and Bishop three times for good luck. If Lawyer Appleton decided there was nothing he could do, I really had no one else to turn to. That I had Lawyer Appleton giving this much time and attention to my problem was a miracle, and I know how lucky I am to have come this far, but this is it. Nothing else I can do.

  * * *

  —

  WHEN THE lobby clock showed two minutes to five I took an elevator to the twelfth floor and went to Gary, Appleton and Bishop. The same lady behind the desk said, “Hello, good to see you again, Mr. Broom.”

  That I was greeted and recognized just like that threw me a little, but also gave me some confidence.

  “Mr. Appleton will see you shortly. Please have a seat.”

  I sat longer than the last time and the longer I sat the more anxious I became. There were two men also waiting in nearby chairs, and they were looking at me funny, like what is this shabby little kid doing here? I guess they were big shots who owned big passenger ships or a bunch of freighters.

  The woman at the desk said to the men, “Mr. Gary can see you now.” They got up and went to the door with his name on it.

  The desk lady’s phone buzzed and she said, “Yes, Mr. Appleton. Right away.” She got up and took some papers into Mr. Appleton’s office. When she came out she walked over to me and said, “He’ll be with you in a minute or two.”

  And he was. After several men left his office Lawyer Appleton came out to get me. He was just as friendly as he was the first time. We sat down on the leather couch in his office, and the same lady as last time, I guess his secretary, brought us Cokes on ice in crystal glasses. Lawyer Appleton raised his glass toward me, we clicked and took a drink.

  “You’ve been a busy fellow have you?” he said.

  “Yes, sir. I’ve been detectifying with lotsa help. I have everything here, stuff I wrote down in my notebook and stuff in my head that I’m going to tell you.”

  I went through everything from beginning to end. From that first day when I saw my father go into J & J tugging his Bulova watch case, the bullet crashing through the J & J window, the corpse on the gurney going into the ambulance, my father’s arrest in handcuffs, the Justin and Joel brothers and their conversation Augie and me overheard at Pete’s, Justin getting tossed from the REO into the gutter and me finding his wallet with the name of Catfish Kuger, Matt J. Pringle of J & J who is really Catfish’s manager of his places and whose real name is Anthony Aravista, Grace Dorso the plump J & J saleslady who is really Catfish Kuger’s disguised wife Graciella Borsolini, Ted Dempsey the dead man who used a gun he wasn’t supposed to have but didn’t push the alarm button connected to the police he was supposed to push, Bonnie Porter the once Veiled Prophet Queen of Love and Beauty now a J & J saleswoman married to the actor Roy Delray, Sol Greenblatt the J & J watchmaker I followed to his riverfront places, the mysterious flapper in the Marmon convertible, the good chance that J & J is really owned by Catfish. How Augie and me found out most of this when we snooped in Grace’s apartment.

  He took all my notes, shuffled through them, sat back, and took a good long look at me.

  I nearly died. Really. But I didn’t blink.

  “Aaron, you are a wonderful whatcha-call-it detectifier. How you were able to get all of this beats me. My better judgment tells me I’m not prepared to deal with a criminal matter since all I’ve ever practiced is maritime law, shipping contracts and accidents, and such matters related to the rivers and the seas, but I so want to help you free your father. I am foolishly going to override my better judgment.”

  “You will!” I jumped up, almost knocking over my Coke. “Oh thank you, thank you, Lawyer Appleton, thank you a thousand times over!”

  “So this is what I will do. I’m going to begin with a writ of habeas corpus, which is a procedure I learned about in law school but never once used in my practice. It’s Latin and lawyers keep using Latin to make them sound special. Would you like to be a lawyer, Aaron?”

  “Well, maybe like Clarence Darrow, saving all the innocent people from the electric chair, but mostly I think I’m going to be a writer, I’ve already started my autobiography.”

  “Good for you. Well, habeas corpus means ‘you may have the body.’ It’s a writ that makes them bring your father into court where the prosecuting attorney will try to convince the judge that it’s necessary to keep him in jail until there is a trial and we’ll try to convince the judge that there is not enough grounds to keep him in jail.”

  “We’ll convince him all right!”

  “And we’ll issue subpoenas—more Latin—to each of the people involved in this matter, those people you have in your notes.”

  “What’s a subpoena?”

  “It’s a summons that makes them come into court for the hearing or else they face fines or jail time. Now this will take a little while—can you get along till then?”

  “Oh sure. I have a very nice place at the Eads Hooverville and my friend Buddy Silverstone has arranged for me to give tennis lessons to little kids for ten cents a time.”

  “Can you get along on that? I’d be pleased to help you out.”

  “Oh thank you but I’m just fine. Lawyer Appleton, you’re a great man doing all this for a boy you don’t know who’s come to you off the street.”

  “Well, Aaron, to tell you the truth I had a son just like you, a little younger, his name was Ben. He was our only child. We were great pals, Ben and I. He was funny and loving and smart as a whip. But w
hen he was eleven Ben came down with polio. It was a sudden and terrible thing. He suffered. But not for long. He died quickly. So did five other children in his class. I see some of Ben in you.”

  “I’m so sorry for you, Lawyer Appleton. Two kids in my class died of polio and one is very crippled.”

  He got up and I followed him to the door.

  “How do I get in touch with you?”

  I tore a page from my notepad and wrote Buddy Silverstone’s number at the tennis court.

  Lawyer Appleton walked me to the elevator. “Keep the faith,” he said as the doors opened for me.

  Happening 33

  I polished up a penny, put it in my sock for good luck, and got to the courthouse way in advance of everyone else. I wanted to observe them as they came in with their subpoenas, which was a word I had to look up to get the spelling. Lawyer Appleton didn’t have to subpoena me but he said I would have to be a witness before the judge and swear to tell the truth which made me very nervous, not that I wouldn’t tell the truth but one of my failings is that I have a tendency to exaggerate.

  There was only one person in the courtroom when I came in, the one called the bailiff, like the one I remembered from that other time I was in court. He was fussing around the judge’s desk, putting out the gavel and water pitcher and a desk sign that said “Judge Harley J. Honeywell.” I thought his name had a good-luck sound to it.

  They all began arriving with their subpoenas around the same time. The J & Js—Joel and Justin—chubby Grace Dorso, Bonnie Porter with Roy Delray, Matt J. Pringle with the beautiful Marmon flapper whose name I found out was Veronica Wister, and Sol Greenblatt. I was sitting in the back row and no one even looked my way. When Lawyer Appleton arrived he came over and sat down next to me.