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Chapter Eight

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Karen (Al & Karen from Pittsburgh) Tuesday, 6:00 p.m.

Late Tuesday afternoon, Hank stopped by for his third visit of the day. I had a chicken roasting on the grill, so Al and I were on the porch, smoking and playing a few hands of gin rummy while our noses got teased by the mouth-watering smell of supper on the way.

Hank looked like he was about to burst, which meant his news was big. “George is planning to quit. They’re interviewing for a new park manager.”

Tossing away a queen, I frowned. “I thought he was happy here.”

“Probably health issues.” Al’s health is seldom far from his mind, so he tends to think every decision a person makes stems from how he’s feeling.

“Yeah.” Hank’s eyes widened. “Maybe he got a bad diagnosis.”

“Now don’t you two start making things up,” I cautioned. “We don’t know anything.”

Removing his cap, Hank ran a hand over the sparse patch of white hair left on his head. “A guy sees things, and he puts ’em together. Most times he can figure out what’s going on that way.”

I didn’t argue, though I could have tossed out a half-dozen times when Hank had seen “things,” put them together, and reached a wrong conclusion. Al doesn’t like it when I contradict Hank, but the man is far too likely to fill any gaps in information with speculation. I try to make allowances, since he’s good to his wife Janice, who’s now in a long-term care facility. “How do you know George is quitting?”

“Well, I rode by the office around closing time—by the way, a brand new fifth wheel was pulling in on Cormorant, behind the office building. I’ll stop on my way home and see if they need anything.”

Hank has appointed himself unofficial greeter for newcomers to B-Bird. By sundown he’d know whether they came from New York or Illinois or Kansas and if they plan to stay a month, three months, or until Easter.

“When I passed,” he was saying, “this sharp-looking guy in a suit was sitting in the lobby. I went inside to get a better look at him.”

Taking a drag off my cigarette, I hid a little smile. It’s amazing how causally Hank admits to being the nosiest person in the park.

“Right away I figured out what he was there for.” Reaching in his shirt pocket, Hank got out a cigarette his own. “You can tell when someone’s looking for a job, because they chat up the secretary like mad. This guy was definitely giving Marlene the soft soap.”

“Maybe he wanted a date.”

Hank waved that away, along with a puff of smoke from his own cig. “I can tell the difference between wanting a girlfriend and wanting a job.” Though I doubted that, I waited for Hank to present the rest of his evidence. “I was kind of hanging around, pretending to read the notices on the board, and pretty soon Alice came in. She and Marlene talked, but I couldn’t hear all of it.” Hank’s chin rose as he finished, “But I definitely heard Marlene tell Alice that George will be done by the end of the month.”

I got up to check on the chicken as Al and Hank speculated on how the park might change with a new manager. Hank believed things would get “tightened up,” and he had quite a few suggestions for how that should go. “They need to kick some of the people on Crane Street right out of here,” he said firmly. “If they can’t keep their places up, they need to get out.”

Looking down the street, I saw Alice, carrying a rolled-up yoga mat. She was headed for the exercise room, but when I gestured, she turned into our drive.

“Chicken smells great,” she said, leaning an elbow on the porch railing. “Tommy’s making more of his famous chili.” She kept her expression blank, but I heard criticism in her tone. Tommy was proud of his chili-making skills, but she’d shared her objections with me. “In the first place, he makes it about twice a month. In the second place, he doesn’t know how to make a small batch, so we have to eat chili for six nights running.”

Instead of commenting on chili I said, “Has Tommy mentioned anything new going on with park management?”

She gave me a questioning look. “No. I was just in the office, and things seemed normal. There was a salesman waiting to see George, but that’s all.

In an innocent tone I asked, “A good looking guy in a suit?”

“Yes. I stopped to ask when the new water rates will go into effect, and George was showing the guy into his office.” With a disapproving look she added, “Marlene says he wants to hold one of those Buy Your Gold events in our hall.”

“Bet he won’t get far with that idea.”

“I hope not.” I hid a smirk when Alice added, “Anyway, George told Marlene that he should be done figuring the new water rates by the end of the month.”

“George will be done by the end of the month,” I repeated.

Alice tilted her head a little. “Yes.” She turned to Hank. “You were there. You must have heard her.”

After a short silence Hank said, “I should get going.”

“Yeah, buddy.” Al’s tone was a little too hearty. “See you later.”