Constantinople turned out to be tucked in the tangle of dirt roads that run off Highway 38, north of Kingston, in a mix of farming and cottage country.
“Wouldn’t want to try to farm here,” I said, as we passed another fine example of pre-Cambrian shield.
The late summer weather had been hot and dry. We raised a lot of dust as we crested another blind hill. Elaine kept her eyes straight ahead. “You know what? If we haven’t found it in three hours, I’d say that’s a bad sign.”
“We’ve been relying on the map. And we know about the problem with maps. I say we ask someone.”
“We’re in the middle of hell. Just who do you suggest we ask?”
“Someone in one of the general stores we passed.”
“But they’re back on the highway.”
“So what?”
“We’d have to backtrack.”
“Big deal.”
“I hate backtracking.”
“Let’s keep going in circles, then. There’s that 1950s Pontiac up on blocks. Third time we’ve passed this place.”
Elaine took a bit more gentle coaxing. “We can’t just go in and ask about some people named Brown. There must be only a couple of million Browns in this country.”
“What is your problem, Elaine? We’re women. We can ask directions to Constantinople or anywhere else. If it helps, sit in the car and keep your face hidden.”
“Very funny. I’ll come with you.”
Elaine’s worst fears seemed to be realized. People stared at us like we’d just landed from Venus and asked for a short cut to the Vatican.
Everyone shook their heads. I thought they showed unnecessary emphasis. They spoke slowly and made dramatic gestures, indicating they had no idea where Constantinople was, or even if it existed. The name Brown drew more blanks. I imagine they collapsed into laughter as soon as the door slammed behind me.
I hit the second store by myself. Elaine opted to stay in the car. Okay, no success. Still, I held out for one last store.
Smith’s General Store had the smell of an establishment with a long history. A dust-covered red pick-up was parked in front. A rusted Corvair was up on blocks at the side of the store. A load of wood sat stacked near the front.
Inside the store, a quarter-inch of dust decorated the tinned soups. Smith’s sold soap without packaging, loose candles, fly paper and big boxes of safety matches. Bait appeared to be their specialty. I noted two new coolers full of nightcrawlers.
A pair of ancient fellows in red baseball caps were the proprietors. I figured they were brothers and that they had about six teeth between them. I asked if they knew how to find Constantinople.
“Constantinople?” the first one said.
“Yes.”
“Constantinople?” the second one said about thirty seconds later.
Of course, it may have been the first one again.
“Does that ring a bell?”
“Yep,” the first one said.
I looked at the second one. He said yep too.
“Good,” I said. “Can you tell me how to find it?”
“Not that easy,” the first one said.
Somehow I had already figured that out. I smiled at the second brother. After a longish minute, he said, “Not that easy.”
“Okay. What would be the nearest community to it? Maybe we could ask someone there to direct us.”
“We’ll direct you,” the second brother said.
“Need a map, is the best thing,” the first brother said.
“Do you by any chance sell detailed maps of this area?”
Turned out they did. Five minutes later, they had the route traced out for me.
“I guess I’ll be able to find the Browns now,” I said.
“Who?” they said in unison.
“The Browns. I’m looking for the parents of Laura Brown, an old friend.”
They exchanged glances. The meaningful kind.
“Thank you for your help,” I said.
“You want Ralph and Sadie then. Why didn’t you say so, ma’am?”
“You know them? I asked at a couple of other places, and no one knew anything about the Browns.”
Brother One spat. “Newcomers. Can’t tell their arses from their elbows.”
Brother Two spat a bit further. “Come in from somewheres else. Change everything. Give people crazy ideas.”
“Useless conceited parasites,” I said, getting into the spirit.
Brothers One and Two grinned in approval.
“Won’t do you no good to go to Constantinople.”
“Why not?”
“Won’t find Ralph and Sadie there,” Brother One said.
Brother Two shook his head sagely. “They moved when Laura was just a tyke.”
“Where would I find them?” I said.
A hush fell over the store. My head throbbed. I sat down on a wooden bench and decided to wait them out. I hoped they wouldn’t direct me to the nearest graveyard.