It was light when I woke up and there was a lot of traffic going by just a few feet above me. I started going down my ladder and the rung broke under my foot. I was holding the sides of the ladder but my hands didn’t grab well because they were still swollen from punching the tree, and I broke through the next rung and fell, hitting my side on the next rung down from that, breaking that rung too. My ankle turned over sideways when I hit the ground next to the tracks, and my side hurt when I breathed, so I didn’t breathe after that. It took me a long time to get back to The Morpheum and my ankle was all puffed up like Elsie’s. I tried to get by her without limping but she called me into her parlor.
“What did you do to yourself?” she said. “Where have you been?”
“I went out early for a walk and fell off a ladder,” I said.
“I don’t believe you,” she said. “You were out drinking all night. Your eyes are red. I can’t help you if you won’t help yourself.”
I didn’t argue with her because I’d never realized before how much her ankles must have hurt when they swelled up, and that might be what made her so cranky sometimes. I just wanted to get off my feet and lie down for a while, and I left to go to my room.
Howie was sitting in the lobby reading a newspaper. He went to college once and he knew a lot of things, and there was something I wanted to ask him. I walked up to him sitting on the sofa but he didn’t see me and he kept reading his newspaper.
“Hi Howie,” I said.
He kept on reading his paper like I wasn’t even there. He was wearing work pants with the cuffs rolled up, a plaid shirt and a bow tie.
“Was the Colonel ever in a nut house?” I said. He saw me and looked up from his paper.
“You have to speak up, Willy,” he said. “I lost my hearing aid. What happened to you?”
“Francine said the Colonel escaped from a nut house,” I said, loud so that he would hear.
Howie put down his paper and patted the sofa next to him.
“Sit down,” he said. I sat.
“It wasn’t a nut house, Willy. It was a hospital, and he didn’t escape. He was sick and he went there to rest. Eventually he got better and he was released. It was many years ago. It happens to a lot of people, and I assure you, Willy, it’s nothing to be afraid of or ashamed of. He’s perfectly fine now.”
“Is he really a colonel?” I said.
“As far as I know. He gets a check from the government every month, doesn’t he? He’s up every morning at five o’clock and then he does his pushups. He always goes for a walk before breakfast.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“If he didn’t do all that he might just lie in bed all day and he wouldn’t be the Colonel then, would he? But he does, so he is. He must be. If he’s not the Colonel, then who do you think he is?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Well, that’s it then.”
“Maybe something happened to him when he was in the War.”
“Yes, Willy, you may be onto something there. You see, we can never know what the other person has been through, and that is why we always treat one another with respect. I see it like this: We each have to make our own deal, and nobody can make it for us. Each of us must decide what to allow and what not to allow, what to see and what not to see, what to remember and what to forget. Some people get to make a better deal than others.”
Howie went back to reading his newspaper and I scratched the back of my ear a couple of times. I thought that maybe Howie was wrong and the Colonel might be dangerous. I looked to see if he was around. I yawned and blinked and my nose twitched, and I felt like I was turning into a cat. I thought, If I was Mr. Winkley I’d know who killed Nancy. I wondered if maybe Gladys put a spell on me, but it was probably just that I’d been out all night and smoked weed the night before.
Howie was smiling like a big fat cat with a bow tie sitting there reading a newspaper. For a second it felt like we were both turning into cats.
“But when somebody kills somebody,” I said, “then I don’t have any respect for that guy. Do you?”
He put down his newspaper, shook his head and let out a deep breath.
“Well, I don’t quite know what you’re driving at, Willy, but I suppose it would depend upon the circumstances. People are often far too quick to pass judgment.”
Francine came downstairs and Howie and I watched her walk by. She was looking down at something she was carrying in a blanket and she went out without looking at us.
“She must have a new doll,” I said.
Howie smiled. “It makes her happy,” he said.
“I guess. Did she show it to you?”
“Not yet,” he said. “I didn’t even know about it until just now.”
“Does she think it’s a real baby?”
“No,” he said. “I don’t think so. I’ll wait until she shows it to me, and then I’ll talk with her.”
Howie was the only one who knew how to talk to Francine to keep her somewhere between reality and craziness so that she wouldn’t go too far either way.
I said, “She likes dolls because she can make them do whatever she wants and they don’t ever talk back to her.”
“Well, now that you say it, yes, I think you may be right,” he said.
“I wonder if she’s crazy enough to kill anybody,” I said.
“Willy, I can’t understand you. What is all this talk about people killing people? What are you getting at? Has the Colonel been telling stories again?”
“No,” I said. “It’s not the Colonel.”
“Well, then what is it?”
“The Colonel doesn’t lie, and even he thinks that … never mind.”
“Thinks what, Willy? I never said the Colonel lied, only that he has an active imagination. Now, if there’s something on your mind that’s been troubling you, then tell me what it is, and maybe I can suggest something. I promise I won’t judge you.”
“Somebody killed Nancy,” I said. I had to talk loud because he didn’t have his hearing aid, but it came out sounding louder than I meant.
“Did the Colonel say that?”
“No. I’m the one that told him. We both think there’s enough evidence, but we’re not sure who did it.”
“Now who do you think would do a thing like that?”
“I don’t know; maybe Roy.”
He didn’t like me saying anything bad about Roy.
“We don’t make idle accusations, Willy. Here you go passing judgment on Roy with no evidence, when you know nothing of the circumstances. Roy has had a very difficult life. You don’t know anything about it.”
I jumped up from the sofa.
“All I know is somebody killed Nancy and it wasn’t me!” I said, and pointed my finger right at his face. “I didn’t kill her! I swear I didn’t!”
“Calm down, Willy. There’s no need to shout. Sit down.”
I sat.
“Now Willy, I know that these past few days have been hard on you, but this image you have of Nancy is way off. She was just leading Roy on, and she did the same to you and Stanley and probably many others as well. She got Roy all confused. There is no evidence of any wrongdoing on the part of anyone but Nancy herself.”
I jumped up again.
“Oh we’ve got evidence all right! The Colonel knows just how Roy did it, and when I find the statue, that’ll give us everything we need!”
“What statue? What are you talking about?”
“Nancy’s Virgin Mary statue. The killer took it from her room. He took her money too.”
Howie looked at the door where Francine had gone out, and when he saw that I was looking at him he looked down quick and pretended to be reading his newspaper.
“What makes you think that?” he said.
“I went all through her room after she died; that’s what makes me think that! You can tell your buddy Roy that I’m going to get him good for what he did.”
Howie folded up his paper and said, “We’ll talk about this later. In the meantime, keep quiet and don’t say anything about anybody unless you can prove it. I have to go now.”
He hurried out to the street like he had to catch a bus and I hobbled up the stairs. I hurt all over from falling off the ladder and I didn’t want to be alone so I knocked on Gladys’s door.
“Gladys!” I said.
“Go away!” she said. “I’m not your mother!”
I knocked on the Colonel’s door but he didn’t answer. I went to my room and there was a letter that somebody slid under the door. I bent to pick it up and Mr. Winkley was turning around in circles rubbing against my leg with his tail sticking up and curled like a question mark. The letter said: Dear Willy, I saw the statue in Francine’s book.