‘Easy, wasn’t it?’ The way he eyed me, an owl at night.
My leg had been bandaged, trousers pulled up and John helped me from the bed, said, ‘Time to move on.’ I looked around for the doctor, looked around for other patients, didn’t see him, didn’t see them. We left the shop, went into the street.
‘I think you’ll be much improved,’ John said.
‘So what do we do now?’
‘We’ll be parting. I have to see my niece then take care of some business. I’ll meet you back at the station at six o’clock and we’ll make our way to the house.’
‘Alright,’ I said. ‘But I’m hungry.’
‘Sorry. I’m afraid I’ve nothing to spare at the moment.’ He gap-toothed a smile. ‘Until then!’ John legged off, left me in the street. I did not care to be left like that. I should’ve gone after him but thought better—get money, get Papa.
Downtown. I sniffed the air. A draught horse pulled a mill cart. Two dogs nosed each other and ran up an alleyway. People stood on the sidewalk, spoke to one another about the weather, all the silly-chat that bore into you, made you grind teeth.
At Main Street, a police officer talked to a junk man. As I neared them, the officer made the man remove his bag from his back, empty contents on the side of the road, tin plates crashing. The man’s back hunched as the officer went through his things, inspected the plates before tossing them back on the ground. I closed in on the men, heard the officer say, ‘I don’t believe these were given to you.’
‘People are kind. Those church ladies really did give me their old wares.’ His voice brittle.
‘You looking to jail?’ the officer said.
I stopped next to them, stared at the officer, at his insect limbs folded across his chest, at his stupid menace face, and he said to me, ‘Can I help you?’
I could smell his fists, the way he readied himself to bruise the man. I knuckled myself up, got a feeling inside me that wanted to punish. ‘You’re all the same. Making nothing but trouble,’ I said. I swayed side to side, stone crunch under my boots.
The officer clicked his tongue. ‘Is that so?’
Knuckles hardened. ‘Yes.’
‘Maybe you should mind your own business.’
That made me laugh. I filled the street with myself.
‘This place is full of crazies,’ the officer said, dug his finger into the man’s chest, pointed hard. ‘Like you.’
The man said nothing, tried to pick up his belongings, put them back in his dirt-greasy bag.
‘Put them down,’ the officer said. It was just like Papa telling us what to do and so I took a swing at him, cracked him in the eye.
The officer covered his face. ‘Shit,’ he said.
‘Get your things and go,’ I said to the man. He nodded, kept packing. I cracked the officer again and I took off down the street, heard him blow on his police whistle, make it shriek. I kept going, ran through leg pain, laughed and laughed, felt alive. The whistle shrieked again and voices called out, ‘Stop him! Stop that man.’
I went down a laneway, went down parallel streets until I was near the train station. My leg throbbed but I kept on, got to the station and went looking for the urinals. Some sweet smell, some stench smell. I got myself in a stall, locked the door and huddled onto a toilet seat, porcelain under boots. I waited there.
Town bells dinged six. My leg throbbed and I uncurled myself from the toilet seat, stretched out and felt along my thigh. No new blood. I waited outside the station for John. He was late. I didn’t care for this. Time passed. He came lanking along, a whistle on his lips. ‘Ah! Benjamin.’ John patted me on the back. He smelled like he’d been near a woman.
‘Are we going to the house now?’
‘Let’s hold on for a moment, let me tell you some things.’ He stood too close to me, made me feel his sweat and heat. ‘I was hoping to get a key for you to use tonight but their maid wasn’t forthcoming. You may have to do the job tomorrow.’
‘But you need to get me in. I can’t do it right if I don’t know my way around the house.’
‘Now, I don’t think I can do that, Benjamin. It’s all about tact.’
I’ve found some people never properly think through their needs. I’d have to do the thinking for John. I said, ‘You need to let me in if you want this problem solved.’
John shook his head. ‘You’re going to have to find your own way in.’
‘Leave a door unlocked.’
‘Andrew likes the house locked tight. Then you have the maid to contend with.’
An unexpected quantity. Things should not be kept from me. ‘This maid. Will she be a problem?’
John tapped his lips. ‘Bridget might get in the way, but then she’s a little daft. She may not cotton on that you’re in the house.’
There was a train whistle.
‘Does your niece know I’m coming?’
‘The less she knows the better.’
I should’ve told him that wasn’t necessarily the case but no matter. ‘Have you decided how you’d like me to solve the problem?’
John creased his crooked lips. ‘I’ll leave that up to you. But I worry that he’ll know who sent you. And that’s going to be a problem for me.’
‘What are you asking me to do, John?’
He clicked his tongue.
I had thought of so many ways for Andrew. I would come in through the side door, catch him in the middle of tying his shoelaces. I’d glove his hands in mine, take a shoelace and tie it around his wrists, slap him a few times around the ears. ‘Listen good,’ I’d tell him, and he would. Then I could take a carving knife, swing it around, scare him until he lost his bowels. I could take a worn and wooden baseball bat, break legs. I could punch him good, I could call him names, I could make him weep for God, I could treat him like my papa. That’s when the real problem-solving would begin.
‘I’ll make it discreet,’ I said.
John looked me up and down, a study. ‘Good. Because at the end of it all, I just want my nieces to be happy. I’d hate for them to be frightened in their own home.’
‘Of course.’
‘Don’t let me down.’
I stared at him. ‘Don’t let me down, John.’
John looked away from me a moment then rubbed his hands together. ‘Splendid. Shall we get going? I’d like to show you the house now.’
I let him get a few feet in front of me before I followed. We made our way along Main Street past houses with large lawns, towards houses that were short of space, short of privacy. Every now and then I looked for the junk man, looked for the officer, but saw neither.
John whistled as he walked. I was already sick of his tune. We walked to streets that counted down to the beginning of Fall River: Fifth, Fourth, Third. We got to Second Street and John stopped, said over his shoulder, ‘This is us.’ The street was lined with full-green trees camouflaging windows and doors, was littered with men and women taking early-evening strolls, a horse-drawn cart carrying empty wooden boxes, dirt-grey moths fighting lamplight.