by E. B. Lee
“Yes,” said Thelma. “Along with three of the boys. And that’s me, on the other end. Used to fish all the time as kids.”
“Wow, stunning,” said Carli, looking at another.
“Yes. Prom. And that’s her William.” Thelma pulled out another photograph. “Here she is again. Playing bridge with William later in life. It’s a good picture of him. Of her, too.”
Carli also saw that Lucy bowled and gardened. No photo hinted of her future. Nearly all showed that sparkling glimmer of which Thelma had spoken.
“A person must embrace life,” said Thelma as she leaned into an oversized armchair, another photograph in hand. “It’s the little things that count.” She took another look at the photo before returning it to the box and said, “Tell me about Outreach. How many homeless are on the streets? Like Lucy was.”
“Thousands,” said Carli. “Four thousand perhaps. It used to be more. The city has a good selection of soup kitchens and programs, like Outreach. Grant keeps track of a dozen or so. I’m only helping part-time with two women. Four Bridges, our Outreach center, sends out teams to keep track of about a hundred in total. Other organizations do the same.”
“I see,” said Thelma.
“Any time one comes in, there seems to be another on the street,” said Carli. “A young man recently showed up at Lucy’s spot. The police have been scouting around more, still trying to learn about how she died.”
“Learn more about a heart attack?”
Carli abruptly stopped talking.
“I have her death certificate,” Thelma said. “Followed up with a few people as well. I guess some camera footage verified it. She up and died. I’m glad it was so quick. I’m also glad you found her so fast, so nothing more happened to her.”
“Heart attack …” Carli’s voice trailed off. “Yes, it was fortunate.”
As Carli slid through the city to meet Grant, she spotted Wilson shuffling behind a crowd of men and women in business attire several blocks from his park. He seemed to recognize her and nodded. Carli waved but kept walking. Two days earlier, Canada had also recognized Carli as she ran an errand; had even raised his hand slightly, as her eyes met his, from across the street. Over the course of several weeks, Spaceman Irving had slept through several of her walks past his street-bed, but she knew where to check for him. For a brief moment, she took comfort in finding Bert, the “consignment store owner,” and others in their self-assigned spaces and in seeing a semblance of order in their lives. Immediately after, she was furious for having accepted it and for accepting that nothing had changed on the street in a month’s time. Suddenly, she was impatient.
“In this business, time isn’t measured by alarm clocks, watches, or calendars,” Grant said softly. “It’s not measured by days. All it does is pass.”
Carli glared, knowing it was true, but angry to hear it so clearly spelled out.
“Yep,” he continued philosophically, “time passes. In fact, you have all the time in the world because that’s what they have. Well, unless they die, of course.”
“What kind of comment is that?” she snapped. “Cedric and Wilson aren’t budging. Vera’s hopping buses for heaters. Harry’s living under a highway. The same faces show up at drop-in. Nothing’s changing.” Carli’s passionate outburst took her by surprise.
“Not by your standards, but they’re surviving. That’s getting done. It beats the alternative. Vera, by the way, says, ‘Hi.’ Says she likes you.”
Carli cocked her head.
“Much goes on in a person’s mind that never makes it to their eyes or face,” said Grant. “Trust me, nothing would happen if we weren’t out here.”
“But Wilson doesn’t want to go in. Neither does Canada. Nor Sarah, for that matter.”
“Often, it takes a hundred to two hundred contacts to get through to them. I already told you that once. You’ll see.”
“I don’t want another Lucy,” said Carli.
Grant steered his eyes to hers.
“I heard she wasn’t poisoned, after all,” she said. “Heard she had a heart attack.”
“Who told you that? It was arsenic.”
“Arsenic? Thelma had the death certificate. She said video footage showed her going down. And I thought you said before, it was cyanide.”
“Sometimes they try to cover this stuff up,” said Grant.
“Who does?”
“Anyone who doesn’t want people knowing.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“You’ll see,” he said. “You’ll see. Trust me.”
“No, seriously, what do you mean?”
“Can’t tell you yet. But when I can, I will.”
Carli recalled Mercy’s invitation to talk if Grant’s routine became confusing. She mentally penciled in a call. In the meantime, she said nothing for the seven long blocks to Penn Station. Once there, a different sort of confusion ensued. Cedric was oddly slumped near a hedge, looking more like a heap of fifty-pound rice bags tossed from the curb than the usually upright can man. Instinct told both Carli and Grant something was wrong. They jogged the last few steps.
“Holy Christ! What happened?” asked Grant.
Cedric managed a feeble response. “He took ’em before I even got them stashed.” Cedric moaned out some of his pain before adding, “I tried to stop him, but he got me … Ho, man, it hurts.”
Carli was shocked to see Cedric’s face bloodied and bruised and wondered if it was Lenny’s man.
Grant probed slightly and Cedric winced. Then he said, “It’s a beaut,” and gently helped Cedric into a standing position. “There’s a clinic three blocks from here. You probably just need cleaning and stitches,” said Grant. “But we should see if anything’s broken.”
Nearly every seat of the Sixth Avenue Clinic was occupied. Several patients looked watery-eyed and feverish with the flu. Others sat with canes and crutches, and a baby screamed in the middle of the room. Grant helped lower Cedric into a chair. “Stay here with Carli. I’ll sign you in and look for ice.”
Cedric slumped. “I should’ve seen it coming,” he said. “Actually, I did, and I tried kicking him but missed. That’s how he got me; caught me off balance. But I landed him one before that. Right in the gut.” He was almost smiling.
“You’re lucky to be alive,” said Carli, surprised with the extent of her concern; after all, she barely knew him. “Save yourself and give him the cans,” she added, and she meant it.
“That’s not how I work.” Cedric turned his battered face a few inches in Carli’s direction. “Maybe you and Grant can get me some blankets?”
Carli had seen plenty at drop-in. Reluctantly, she said, “Sure.”
“Put these on your face,” said Grant. “It’s all I can find. They’re too backed up to get ice right now.” Grant handed two cold cans of soda to Cedric. “They’ll see you as soon as they can.”
“It don’t matter much either way,” said Cedric.
“He wants blankets for the street,” said Carli.
“Thought you were getting used to the heat, man.”
“The heat was good, but that cougher was bad,” said Cedric. “Besides, my business needs tending. I told you before, three strikes, and I’m out.”
“I hate to see it, just hate to see it,” said Grant. After a few moments of silence, he added, “You see who did this?”
“Of course, I saw him, and I better not see him again.”
“Who?” asked Grant and Carli, nearly in unison.
Cedric barely shook his head and pressed his lips into an airtight seal.
“I was wondering if it was Lenny’s man,” said Grant.
Cedric continued looking at the ground. He would be settling it on his own.
While the doctor examined Cedric, Grant chaperoned, and Carli managed a call to Kristin. “Sorry, we got delayed. It’s Cedric. He’s hurt, but thank god, he should be okay. Can you still do it?” she asked.
Kristin said, “Sure, no problem. I’
m coming down Fifth Avenue, right?”
“Yes.”
“Starting now.”
With a cleaning and fourteen stitches, Cedric was free to leave. He had orders to apply ice and take a painkiller as needed. The only thing still broken was his pride.
Carli and Grant walked Cedric to the Four Bridges drop-in. Before they left, Cedric said sheepishly, “Glad you found me.” Carli guessed it was his way of saying his trust was still intact, even if other things were not. Grant promised to catch the Church Run’s first stop to cop a couple of extra blankets, then he and Carli trudged the half flight of steps to street level, feeling robbed. Yes, releasing Cedric to the street hurt. She could see it in Grant’s stride as well.
“I’ll swing by tonight to make sure he has plenty of covers,” said Grant, “and that he’s safe.”
Barely three blocks from Cedric, Carli stopped in her tracks. “Do they always leave these here?”
Grant spotted the neatly stacked pile of cardboard boxes, flat and bundled, lying next to a church, and chuckled. “No, but I’ll bet you Cedric finds them. That guy is lucky.”
After another deep sigh, Grant said, “We’ll get him. It’s just the cans are the top dog right now.” He clucked his tongue and said, “Let’s go find Sarah for you, if we can.”
“What do you mean, if we can?”
“The Sweep. It’s pushing a lot of them into hiding. She might have disappeared for a bit too.”
“Hiding?” asked Carli.
“Sure,” said Grant. He was nearly into a slow jog. “I haven’t seen Harry and Grudge for a couple of days. It’s always my biggest clue. You’d think they’d be left alone ’cause they’re not in one of the pricey tourist areas. That’s where The Sweep is always strongest. But they get gathered during their Midtown forays. Sometimes they go into hiding when they know The Sweep is taking place. Easier for Harry to move Grudge voluntarily than have to gather everything on a moment’s notice, all to end up where they don’t want to be.”
“That explains it,” said Carli.
“Explains what?”
“A couple of days ago, I saw Canada moving north at a pretty good clip. And on my way to meet you today, I saw Wilson moving as well. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him out of his park, except when you carried him to Four Bridges.”
“That’s The Sweep, all right. Sometimes gets pretty bad.”
Another block north, Carli heard a familiar voice. “Sister!” It was Kristin. No surprise; Carli was expecting her. Carli introduced her to Grant as a former colleague and best friend.
“Is this you doing your Outreach?” asked Kristin. She addressed the question to Carli but looked straight into Grant’s eyes.
“Sure is. The new me,” said Carli. “Where’re you headed?”
“Late lunch, errand, and then a long afternoon and evening ahead.”
“Ah, it never ends,” said Carli. “And that’s a good thing.”
“Hey,” said Kristin. “Let me get a pic of my girl in her new life. You too, Grant. Get in the photo.” Kristin took a couple and then circled to Grant’s side to take a group selfie. Mission complete. Kristin headed to lunch.
“What will happen to Cedric if they Sweep?” asked Carli.
“He’ll have to hide, like the others. But I know his favorite spots. Pretty sure I’ll find him.”
As Carli and Grant swung into Central Park, benches looked eerily empty. Sure enough, Sarah was missing.
“She’ll be back,” said Grant. “Not to worry.”
Carli did worry. Even without knowing Sarah beyond a one-sided introduction, she felt oddly responsible for the woman in blue. Carli didn’t fail people. Not her work people. And not her friends; the few that she had. While Carli wasn’t sure what Sarah was to her yet, she knew she was someone ... important.
Carli called Mercy as soon as Grant took leave from the empty park. Carli needed answers. Without them, every attempted brushstroke would be preoccupied with Grant’s poisoning conspiracy.
Mercy shone like the sun, with her big green glasses dangling against a nearly glaring yellow pantsuit. Carli knew no one else could have worn it like Mercy. Her lip gloss was fuchsia pink. A fresh eucalyptus-lemongrass-like fragrance completed her outfit. It was good to see her.
“Missing Persons and the Medical Examiner looked at me like I was crazy, asking about poisoned street people,” said Carli. “Grant looked at me the same way when I told him Thelma had video footage of a heart attack.”
“Strange,” said Mercy. “On all accounts. After your last visit, I asked Grant about people being poisoned. When I pressed him on details, he dropped the thought.”
“Exactly what happened to me this morning. Said he’d tell me when he could. One way or another, someone is wrong. It makes more sense the city would cover something up. Don’t you think?”
“Sadly, it does,” said Mercy. “It also makes sense that Grant would have reliable inside information, being on the street and all, and keeping tabs with so many of them out there. Except ...”
“Except what?” asked Carli.
“Well, sometimes Grant sees things a little bit different from others. It’s like I told you the day you came to do the paperwork; sometimes his methods are a bit ... well, unconventional. And they can be confusing. For all I know, it could be he’s starting a rumor to dig up some other information about what really happened. Or maybe he’s trying to get the police to look into something else, in a roundabout way. Grant’s got a unique kind of insight in that way. I’ve seen it before.”
“So, what do I tell Vera and Sarah?” asked Carli. “That they need to be on the lookout for some sick person? That, in itself, should push them inside somewhere, instead of staying on the streets at night.”
“No, no ...,” said Mercy. “I wouldn’t go scaring them like that. I’d just tell them to be careful, as usual. I’ll ask Grant about this again.”
“So, you’re saying Lucy might have had a heart attack?” asked Carli.
“I’m saying I’ll do some more digging. We don’t need word getting out on a bigger stage through a rumor mill or making Page One of the newspapers. The first priority is safety, and having everyone on the streets mobbed by a bunch of reporters out for a story isn’t safe either.”
“Got it,” said Carli. “But I’d like to know myself what happened. This is bizarre.”
“I’m with you.”
The moment Carli unlocked the deadbolt on her apartment door, a pair of dogs came skidding across the bare floor and erased the troubles of the day. Almost.
“You coming over?” she asked Kristin over the phone.
“In five.”
Carli moved piles of mail off her dining table and heated a pot of tea. Then she waited. For Kristin and Friedrich.
“Thanks again,” said Carli. Kristin barely had her coat off when Carli asked, “What do you think? Is he my brother?”
“You tell me. I sent you the photos.”
Carli and Kristin inspected their phones, scrolling, zooming in, and comparing what they saw on the screens to the four photographs of Henry in college.
“I don’t see it,” said Kristin. “Really don’t.”
“I don’t either,” said Carli. “Except for how he’s got his hand resting against his leg. It looks almost identical to how he’s standing in this one in college.”
“I see what you mean. But the eyes don’t look quite right. They’re a different shape. And the chin is different.”
“The hair is hard to tell because of his cap. I guess you’re right,” said Carli. “He’s not Henry, is he?”
“I don’t want to be a downer, or anything,” said Kristin, “but can you even get out of a cult? Or do people ever want to leave? I always thought it was impossible.”
“I always hoped it could happen,” said Carli, “but I think you’re right. It’s not the norm. And this one ... well, it got rid of some of its members for profit. I think I told you that already.”
Krist
in put her hand on Carli. “Sorry, Sister. I really am.”
When Kristin and Friedrich left, Carli moved into her living room and pulled aside the draperies. From her sixteenth-floor window seat alcove, she stared out across the city. Lights were beginning to glimmer as residents returned home and settled in. She loved the city nightscape. Looking down to street level, she saw some people scurrying and others casually walking, as they made their ways home, or elsewhere, on the asphalt grids. It truly did look like a maze of racing rats. She could just make out interesting details, like what people were carrying, including newspapers and flowers.
In a minute, she saw Kristin and Friedrich step out of her building to begin their walk home. Kristin knew Carli well. She turned to wave. Carli smiled, and she continued to smile as she watched Friedrich’s paws moving double-time to keep pace with Kristin. Then she saw him catch a worthwhile scent and pull Kristin to a screaming halt. When they disappeared around a corner, what caught Carli’s eye was the atrium entryway of the Piskar Building on Forty-Seventh Street, three blocks from her apartment. It was two stories of open glass, with warmth within, and plenty of green plants. She saw bodies moving around inside, and more people entering and exiting through the revolving gateway in the glass expanse. She found herself idly staring at the glass for many minutes. In her lifetime at work, Carli had broken a glass ceiling. Why was it that others could not break a glass wall? Or any wall? Why were Vera and Sarah outside? Why wasn’t life fair?
Thirteen
“They’re this close,” said Carli, squeezing her thumb and forefinger so close together they almost touched. “This close,” she repeated as Grant watched. “The only thing separating so many of them from heat is an inch of glass. That’s it. The lobbies and atriums in these buildings practically beg for them to come in. How does this happen? How does a person choose to stay out in weather that’s eighty degrees lower than body temperature? Why do they ignore police orders to find emergency shelter? Why do we have worlds of atriums and worlds on the street?”
“Talk about a lot of questions,” said Grant. “Hard to know what to say.” He thought a moment and began walking. “It’s tangled, to be sure. Housing stock has a lot to do with it. As does all the stuff that can happen to a person when life gets complicated. Where are these questions coming from, anyway?”
