Carli caught up with Harry sliding out of St. Mary’s. She walked with him into the shadows of the highway. “I heard you used to be with your daughter,” she said.
Harry shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.” He walked another two minutes before adding, “We kind of had a blowup. Didn’t like the way I acted around the little one; Jessica’s her name.” He grunted. “Must be near five by now. Who knows, maybe older.” Stopping momentarily to reposition his bags, he said, “Probably as cute as can be. Guess I deserved it.” It was clear, from his posture, he missed them.
“Where are they now?” she asked.
“Probably where they always were. Don’t care a damn about me. Probably think I’m dead. Figure I’ll never see them again, and it won’t bother them at all. Doesn’t matter.”
“People change.”
“Look, let’s drop it,” said Harry.
“Sure,” she said. Despite what Grant had told her, and how many times he had dismissed it, the past did matter. It had to. Sooner or later, Carli would bring up Harry’s family again.
She left Harry, before reaching his barrel, to head Uptown. Sarah sat with bags stacked up on a bench, as usual, but something was noticeably absent.
“Where’s your cart?” asked Carli.
“Gone.”
“Why?”
“Stole.”
“Someone stole your cart?” asked Carli.
Sarah nodded once, casting her eyes to the ground as she did.
Seven bags and a woman left intact, but the cart – rusted and squeaky – was stolen.
“How did you get these here?” asked Carli, motioning to the pile of bags.
Sarah waved her arms to show she had carried them. Then she looked away, wary of prolonged eye contact.
Carli considered the process. It must have been difficult, physically and emotionally. “Who?” she finally asked.
Sarah folded her arms and shut like a clam. Carli repeated the question. Twice. Her pigeon woman finally answered.
“Same one. Hit Len … ny.”
Carli froze. Sarah had seen it – Lenny’s attack. Of course. She slept in or near the park every night. How could she not have seen it?
“Lenny?”
Sarah nodded.
“Who?”
Sarah stared, puzzled. “I told … him.”
“Told who?” asked Carli.
“Told … Grant.”
“Who?” Carli asked again. “Who did it?”
“Har … ry. Told … Grant.”
Carli stiffened and felt the blood of her pulse throbbing in her neck. It was Harry. Grant knew all along, but hadn’t said a word. Had out-and-out lied. Face to face with a police officer. With two, in fact. Or, perhaps, he didn’t know at the time. If only she could remember that first day more clearly.
Sarah’s scant words explained a lot, like the reason Grant was after Harry; he had his number and wanted Harry to know it. Carli sighed. Harry, the man who looked like her elderly uncle, the man who was missing his granddaughter, and the man she had just seen, was a part-time thug. Carli looked at Sarah without her cart and boiled. Harry and Grant had some explaining to do. But not just yet. After months of Grant’s knowing, a few more days wouldn’t make a bean’s worth of difference. What she didn’t know was enough about Harry and how to confront him.
“I’ll look for a new one,” she said.
Sarah shrugged as though it didn’t matter, but Carli knew it mattered a lot. Seven bulging bags were seven bulging bags, and Sarah was no bodybuilder.
Leaving Sarah, Carli couldn’t help wondering if it was Harry who had paid a visit to Cedric’s place. Time was when she believed they looked out for one another, but, obviously, there were bad eggs.
At half past six o’clock the next morning, Carli arrived at Sarah’s to watch her come to grips with her new predicament, and help lug the plastic to the park. It is what Grant would have done, or so she thought. Now she wasn’t sure, since Grant had dined with a criminal and turned his back on the crime.
Carli spotted Sarah huffing toward the park, lugging two bags alongside her, while keeping watch over her shoulder for the five left behind across a busy street. In fact, Sarah stopped smack on the street’s centerline, with cars passing and honking both ways. She peeked at the left-behinds and readjusted her grip on the two she hauled. Then, she shuffled through streaming traffic, placed the bags on the curb, and started back for the rest.
Carli dashed to Sarah’s side, offering to help in silence. She picked up two bags and nodded. Together, they stepped off the curb like mother cats transporting kittens. When the operation was complete, and Sarah was settled on her bench, Carli said, “I’ll be by later to help.”
She headed to the shadows of the elevated highway to seek out Harry and Grudge. The two were already up and out, but Sarah’s cart was boosted against a trestle, looking like part of the bridge. She wanted to take it, but doing so could endanger Sarah. If Harry happened to go looking for it again, Carli wanted him to know she had taken it, not Sarah.
Carli walked away empty-handed. Taking Harry’s “new” cart would be robbing him, too, and not only of his new cart, but of his trust. There were other ways to keep them both, but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t ask him about it very soon. After all, hadn’t Grant tapped Harry on the back about Lenny?
With the logistics of street life being new to her, Carli didn’t know if Sarah might have a way of finding a new cart on her own. But when she returned, as she had promised, she saw Sarah’s bags jumbled on the bench, with no cart by their side. Together, they schlepped the bags out of the park. Many people stared. None gave a hand. According to Grant, Sarah didn’t go far – across the street and up and down a few blocks was about it. Without a cart, she likely wouldn’t be leaving her neighborhood or going to Lucy’s church. The next morning, following another bag delivery to the park, Carli set off to find Sarah a new set of wheels.
It took some searching, but Carli finally found what she needed tucked in the corner of a dusty top shelf at First Avenue Hardware. She steered her acquisition onto the sidewalk, wondering how long it would take for it to mellow to the rusty patina of street life.
Carli was certain Sarah would scorn a gift, so she helped move bags one more time, and waited until after dark to make an undercover delivery. Surrounded by night, Carli slid the cart under a shrub near Sarah’s favorite bench. With any luck, Sarah would lay claim to it before anyone else. Carli fled fast, shuddering at the thought of Sarah being out by herself near the empty park, at this very moment, and night after night.
The next morning, as soon as Carli spotted Sarah, she smiled. Sarah was already chatting with the pigeons, with her new cart sparkling in the morning sun. For all Carli knew, Sarah saw her leave the cart and claimed it in the middle of the night. The new cart was a bit wider than Sarah’s first, and the woman had tied two bags to the sides using strands of mismatched twine. The bags in the middle anchored their weight, and Sarah could now push her pram with bags no longer piled so high as to block her view. She could walk with two hands on the handle, instead of using a hand to balance the top bag. Going over curbs would be easier. In some respects, the theft was a blessing, but Carli hardly felt like thanking Harry. Yes, it was time to find Harry for a talk.
Carli slid into a seat directly across the table as soon as Harry and his tray sat at Lucy’s soup kitchen.
“I heard you got a new cart,” Carli said, reaching for salt for her lunchmeat.
Harry glanced up.
“Where’d you get it?” she asked.
“Found it.”
“Near Sarah?”
“Just found it.” After taking a bite he added, “But I sold it.”
“Sold it?”
Harry continued eating. “Needed it, but then didn’t, so I sold it.”
Someone else was now walking around with Sarah’s cart.
“Why didn’t you give it back to Sarah? And why did you take it in the first place?”
“I had my reasons.”
“But she needed it,” said Carli. For all the good she had hoped on Harry over the past months, Carli momentarily despised him.
After lunch, Carli returned to the park. As she sketched, Sarah approached with shiny new cart wheels making crinkling sounds as they rolled over the gravel path. Carli looked up to see Sarah reaching her hand straight toward her to offer a plastic bag. Instinctively, Carli reached to accept it but immediately regretted doing so. Nothing jingled like a bag full of coins.
“Cart,” Sarah said slowly.
Carli tried returning the bag, but Sarah turned, and her cart turned as well, ready for another crinkly stroll.
“Sarah, wait …”
“Sister! What’s up?”
The moment Carli heard Kristin’s voice on her phone, she smiled. “Hey. Good to hear your voice,” said Carli. “I’m doing a bit of research.”
“Paintings? That kind of research?”
“No. Perfumes. Trying to find Wilson, last name unknown, occupation chemist ... possibly ... but also unknown for certain. I mean, how many Wilsons could there be in the perfume world?”
“Wilson ... the man in the park?” asked Kristin.
“Yes, that Wilson. He claims he used to be a chemist. In the perfume industry. I don’t know if it’s true, but he has an incredible nose for fragrances. I don’t know how he does it. A lot of him is in a fog, but, somehow, his nose picks up these scents. And knows them. Like, identifies them. You should see it. It’s amazing.”
“Sounds like a gift.”
“Well, with any luck, it will be a gift that tells me a bit more about him, and helps get him out of that damned park,” said Carli. “I’m hoping something, or someone, will let me make a stronger connection.”
“I thought you were only visiting two women,” said Kristin.
“That was the idea, but how can I not help a man with a childlike smile, who wouldn’t harm a flea, and who is grateful to receive two new coat buttons? A man who somehow knows perfumes ... and who seriously needs to turn in his bottle before he dies with his head on a park bench.”
“Good points.”
“I mean, he’s not just a drunk in the park. He’s Wilson,” said Carli. She paused, realizing the full meaning of her words.
“So, give me the deets. I’ll help you search. Two keyboards are better than one.”
“You’re always a team player,” said Carli.
“You got my back. I got yours.”
“So, here’s the thing ... what I likely need are old annual reports, company publications, or maybe an industry directory. I’m guessing from five years ago to fifteen years ago. I’m just getting started. I considered calling our friends who did Workables and Living Easy, to see if they can give a few leads to Fragrance Industry or Fragrance Creators materials.”
“Good idea,” said Kristin. “Let me do that for you.”
“I have no idea if Wilson was a higher-up, production chemist, or master blender of some sort. If I had to guess, I would definitely go with the latter. All he said was ‘chemist.’”
“Any reason to think he’d make that up?” asked Kristin.
“Could have. But he said he studied chemistry. He also said ‘Princeton,’ but I didn’t get anywhere with that. Maybe I just didn’t have the right range of years.”
“Maybe, but honestly, this all seems like we’re being total creepers. What are you going to do if you find out something?”
“I’m trying to come up with anything that will connect. I have no intention of telling anyone who isn’t trying to help,” said Carli.
“It still feels like creeping. On the other hand, people look for all types of information about all types of people. I guess this is no different.”
“Who knows?”
“Hey, the other reason I called is I want to know about your vacation. Are you still taking it?” asked Kristin.
“It sounds so weird when you say it like that. Sounds like we’re talking about taking time off from work. You know, like when you have to schedule in your time off from the office,” said Carli.
“Those were the days, right? At least for one of us. The other one, here, is still living it.”
“Yes, I am going,” said Carli. “Well, I hope so. I’m worried about leaving Grant. He said he saw Dr. Greenberg. Hey, I didn’t tell you about that, did I?”
“No. You’re holding back on me. Fantastic.”
“I guess I believe him,” said Carli. “As long as there is no major emergency, it’s Wyoming here I come. Can’t wait. Two weeks of total brain crunch with my artistic side.”
“You need to get away,” said Kristin. “Not only for your painting, but for you.”
“Agreed. I definitely need to get out there for my show though. The whole premise is to have contrasting landscapes from oceans to mountains. To show the different power of it all. I considered adding in desert works but decided to make that a separate study. I’d likely drop dead in the desert heat right now, anyway.”
“Oh, God. Forgot about that,” said Kristin. “Head to the mountains, Sister.”
“I will, but right now I’m heading to sleep. Long day. Thanks a billion for the call.”