On the way down the stairs, I heard Homer’s voice. Someone was frightened. Homer was soothing.
I moved faster, heading for Eli’s office, to look for I didn’t know what.
I knocked. Because you never know. Then I used Venus’s keys, letting myself and Dashiell in, closing the door, then flipping on the light.
I didn’t think I had a lot of time, so I went straight for the files, quickly moving through the patient folders, hoping something would jump out at me, something telling.
Dream on.
There were several file drawers full of medical journals and articles on autism, new drugs, vitamin therapies, homeopathy, acupuncture, aromatherapy, you name it, it was there. Though traditionally trained, it seemed Eli was willing to investigate anything that might help.
I was looking for personal things—his will perhaps, or Harbor View finances—but those were all in Harry’s office. Venus had a point. Why would someone think these men’s skills were interchangeable? The beauty of the relationship was that they were not, that each was an expert in his separate field, and that each was equally devoted to the small, damaged population at Harbor View. It was, it seemed to me, not a career but a calling. Sure, it took money and lots of it to keep this place going, but money wasn’t the point of it. And neither man, I thought, took out more than was needed to survive. Well, of course, Harry hadn’t taken money out. He’d put it in. Gobs of it.
I flipped through the rest of the files quickly, stopping at David’s to read the overview that started each resident’s file, then stopping at Jackson’s to read his. I took the phone apart and found the bug, then shut off the light and opened the door, my heart pounding because I didn’t have a story ready this time.
But the lobby was empty. Homer would be working his way down from the top. I listened for a moment, but I didn’t hear a sound. Eli’s office wasn’t the place to be. I went next door to Harry’s office, unlocking the door and letting Dashiell into the dark room first, then stepping inside after him, letting the door close and feeling his tail start to bang against my leg.
What was he so happy about, just because he’d been here before, because it was familiar?
I felt along the wall for the light, pushing up the switch when I found it, then sucking in my breath when I saw we weren’t alone.
He lifted his hand to shield his eyes when the overhead light came on. I stood there, mute, Venus’s keys in my hand, too surprised to think of how I could explain my presence here. That’s when I noticed he had been crying.
“Please don’t tell anyone I was here,” he said.
Dashiell approached, his tail going in circles now.
“I didn’t want any of them to see me crying. They get upset too easily.”
I went and sat next to him on Harry’s big leather couch.
He had a wad of tissues in one hand and wiped his eyes with it, but the tears kept coming.
“I don’t understand what’s happening. And I’m afraid. I don’t know who’s going to be hurt next, but sure as we’re sitting here, Rachel, someone is.”
“You may be right,” I told him, looking at his small, polished shoes, his feet side by side, as if he were sitting in church. Then I looked back at his face. “What can we do about it?” I asked.
“You and me?”
“Exactly.”
“What could we do?”
“We could pool our information, for one thing.”
“I don’t—”
“If you don’t know what’s going on here, Homer, who does?”
“Well, I hear some things, but—”
He sat up, looking at me critically now, probably wondering what I was up to, if he could trust me.
I was already in it up to my chin, but I was wondering the same thing about him.
Sometimes you just have to take a chance.
“You heard some things yourself, didn’t you? This afternoon, for instance, outside the dining room. You were listening to them in there, weren’t you?”
“I was.”
“How come?”
“Because something funny’s going on here, don’t you think?”
“I think it’s not so funny.”
“That’s what I meant.”
“I never said,” he told me.
“What didn’t you say?”
“That I saw you listening.”
“How come?”
Homer turned away from me.
“Why didn’t you tell Eli what I did?”
“Venus brought me here twelve years ago. She took a chance on me.”
I looked at the little man’s face, the flush across his nose and cheeks.
“You met at AA?”
He nodded. “I didn’t think I was ready for no responsibility. The cleaning, okay, I needed the money. We both knew that. And that was something I could do. Because, see, I don’t clean one night, I won’t disappoint anyone so bad I can’t hardly stand the sight of myself in the morning.
“But Venus said I was here for the kids first, to help Molly with the bedtime, to do the bed checks, to sit with any of them when they get bad dreams or night sweats.
“I told her, no, I can’t do that. I can’t be counted on. I never could be. ‘You can now,’ she told me. ‘I would trust you with my life.’ I’ll never forget her saying that to me because the way she did, I knew I had to make it true. She went to Mr. Dietrich and worked it out. I don’t know what she told him, but knowing Venus, I’d say it was the flat-out truth. That’s how she is, you know.”
I nodded, thinking about how she’d hidden the truth from me. Or rather, eked it out. For Harry’s sake, she’d said.
“When I seen you listening in on them, I figured maybe you was doing it for her, to find out what was happening here.”
“That’s true. I am trying to help Venus. And I think you can help me do that, Homer.”
He looked at those polished shoes of his, the laces even, tied just so, as if by paying careful attention to the minutia, that and going to meetings, you could keep your life from falling to pieces.
“I never mean to—”
“But it happens, right? You’re cleaning, and you hear someone on the phone, or you hear an argument. The way you saw me snooping today, by happenstance.”
He nodded.
“You see, this here building, it was a seaman’s hotel originally, before Mr. Dietrich bought it, got it fixed up so it would be right for the kids. It was meant for short-term visits, people staying here by themselves, not a place for lots of families, thick floors and walls you can’t hear through. Voices carry here. Mostly, it’s a helpful thing. The princess, she cries a lot at night, but she doesn’t get up and call me. From anywhere except the kitchen I can hear her, or any of them that needs me. I know to go to her, make things better. That’s my job. That’s what Venus hired me to do. She said I could understand them, because I’d been down. She said no one would ever wish to be where I spent a major chunk of my life, no one would ever choose to be a drunk and a failure, no one would ever think any good could come of it.” Homer’s eyes filled again. “‘But in this job,’ she said, ‘you could consider it an advantage.’”
Dashiell got up and put his head on Homer’s knee.
“But sometimes what I hear,” he continued, “it’s got nothing to do with what I was hired for. You know what I’m saying?”
“I do.”
“Sometimes I find out things in other ways,” he said.
“A piece of paper in the trash.”
Homer nodded a little too enthusiastically.
“Hey, you’re human, right? You’re curious.”
“I never go through the files or nothing. Just sometimes there’s something right on top of the desk when I’m cleaning up. It’s hard not to look.”
“I figure you know about as much as anyone,” I told him.
“Some would think that.”
“Before I came today, Homer, did you hear anything yourself? From the big powwow in the dining room?”
“Seemed like the sister wasn’t too happy. Those spoiled kids of hers either. Mr. Dietrich wasn’t like that. You could see he was rich all right. But he was a regular guy, too. He wasn’t a showoff, like them.”
“What were they miffed about?”
“That Bailey thinks it’s going to be him doing Mr. Dietrich’s job, managing investments, and making financial decisions for Harbor View. I always thought Nathan was preparing himself for that, with his MBA degree and all that fund-raising he does. Maybe he thought Mr. Dietrich would move down to Florida, get hisself a boat, take it easy for a change. If anyone could afford to do that, he could. But it’s too late for that now.”
“What about Samuel? If Nathan thought he’d take over for Mr. Dietrich, did Samuel think he’d take over for his father one day?”
“You can’t take care of the kids with singing and dancing, Rachel. These poor souls have serious problems. They need medical care.
“Oh, it’s not that Sammy didn’t try. There’s nothing he would a liked better’n that, as devoted as he is.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “The story I heard was that he was in medical school, and pffft. Couldn’t cut it. Had the brains for it, but not the stomach.”
“Who told you that?”
“Molly did. She’s known them boys forever. She was their nanny before she came here.”
“No kidding.”
“Cross my heart,” he said. And he did.
“So Samuel. He was in medical school, but he flunked out?”
“Oh, Mr. Samuel is a smart one. Don’t kid yourself. He’s always reading something, that one, wouldn’t step on the subway without a book. And listening to his music, the classics and opera. He didn’t flunk out. He passed out. Fainted at his first autopsy, first year in.”
“But lots of people do that and get by the squeamishness and go on to be fine—”
Or go on to be psychiatrists, I thought, doctors who can’t stand the sight of blood.
“Not this one. He’s here late, he wants a snack, Molly leaves the tomato sauce off his pasta, gives him a little oil and garlic instead. Someone gets cut, or falls, it’s not Samuel you call. It’s Dr. Eli or me or Molly, that tough old bird. He’s always been like that, squeamish. Not Molly. You should see what that woman can handle, and the strength of her, at her age. She can lift some of them, grown-ups, nearly her own size, as if they were babes in arms. Gets them to take their pills, go to bed on time, bathe when they don’t want to—she can handle anything. A find, that’s what she is for a place like this. But so is Samuel, in his own way. Couldn’t follow in his father’s footsteps, the way he wanted to, but he does a world of good here with his little classes every night, a world of good.”
“What about the poster family for overindulgence? Have they ever done anything here? And what about the wives?”
“What wives?”
“Harry’s wife, before she got sick? And Eli’s?”
“Eli’s wife died when the boys were young. That’s why they had Molly. She lived with them, in Brooklyn, while the boys were growing up.”
“And now?”
“She lives here, Rachel. I thought you knew.”
“No, I didn’t.” But I hadn’t seen where anyone could either. I assumed when Venus stayed, she slept on the couch in her office. But where would Molly sleep? I asked Homer.
“Up top. Southeast corner, nice and quiet, overlooking the garden. Small, but she don’t seem to mind.”
“Do you live here, too?”
“Not me, Rachel. Venus offered. But I’ve had my place for thirty-three years now, and the rent’s cheap. I got my own troubles without being with theirs every hour around the clock. You’re here, your work hours get flexible, you see what I’m saying? Molly don’t mind that, or so she says. I do. I got to get to my meetings regular and have some peace and quiet, too. And I need a phone, so’s I can call my sponsor when I have to. Like tonight.” He looked toward the phone on Harry’s desk. “We’re not supposed to use the phones here, unless it’s for them, the kids, an accident or something. Like we ain’t got no needs ourselves.”
I patted his hand.
“He told me to hold on, my sponsor.”
I nodded.
“Well, I told him, I’m trying, aren’t I? It’s why I’m calling, I said.” He nodded. I did, too.
“Homer, you never told me about Harry’s wife. Marilyn. Did she come here, work with the kids, or help Harry out?”
“Met her twice, is all. This was Harry’s work, not hers. The sister’s the same way, I can tell you. The one was here today? That Bailey Poole, her son, he was saying he’d be overlooking the finances. That’s what I heard him say, overlooking the finances. Never set foot in the place more’n once a year before now. But that sister woman, when they got here after the services, she was looking the place over, as if now that Mr. Dietrich is gone, it’s hers. Can you just imagine what that crew would do to this place if it were theirs? Turn it into a shopping mall, I guess.” He looked at his hands, gnarled with work, the fingers stained a yellowish brown. “Never worked a day in their lives, the pack of them. You can see it by their hands, even the boy. Good-for-nothings, I say. Dr. Eli, he was telling them they were jumping the gun. They had to wait and see.”
He looked at me, his eyebrows raised.
“Until they got to see the will,” I told him, “see what Harry spelled out for Harbor View. I guess everyone is expecting what they want, as if Harry were Santa Claus.”
“I’m sure he did what’s right for them,” he said, pointing up.
“You don’t think he would have been concerned about his relatives’ feelings? After all, Arlene was his wife’s sister, and he has no other family that I know of.”
“Don’t matter,” Homer said. “This is what mattered to him. These people here, the twins and Jackson, Willy and Richard and the princess, Charlotte, David, and all of them, this was Harry’s family. This is where his heart was. You’ll see.”
I nodded. “You okay now, Homer?”
“I’m better. It’s good to have a friend.”
I reached over and patted his hand, dry from cleaning products, rough from hard work.
“I better finish my bed checks. You done in here?” he asked me, the suspicion coming back into his eyes.
“Yeah, I was just looking for you,” I told him. “To tell you I couldn’t wait for our cup of tea. I want to get over to the hospital, see how Venus is doing.”
Homer nodded. “You tell her I said—”
Then he remembered.
“I will, Homer. No point me sitting with her and keeping my thoughts to myself. I figure, maybe she hears me, so I talk a blue streak. It couldn’t hurt.”
“You tell her Homer’s keeping her seat for her. She’ll know.”
He got up and went to the door, holding it ajar for me.
“Keep your eyes and ears open. Anything you hear, you let me know.”
He nodded.
Dashiell and I headed for the door, then turned back.
“Homer, were you here when Harry got hit by the bicycle?”
“I wasn’t. I went to the six o’clock meeting, got here about seven-thirty, couldn’t get in right off, because they were looking for clues out front. Never saw so many police in all my days.”
“What about the night before? Did you hear anything then, anything unusual?”
“Sorry, Rachel, I didn’t. I don’t know anything about Mr. Dietrich’s accident.”
I walked back to where he was standing.
“You might, Homer, but you might not know that what you saw or heard has any significance. So if something comes up, if you remember some little detail, no matter how unimportant it seems, you let me know, okay?”
“Okay, Rachel. I knew I was right about you trying to help Venus.”
“You bet I am. And now you are, too. We’re a team.”
It was a fifteen-minute walk to St. Vincent’s, and I was hoping, at least for that short amount of time, I’d be able to let my mind go blank. There wasn’t much hope it would get rest in the normal way that night. After checking in on Venus, I was planning to go back to her apartment and spend the rest of the night reading her correspondence with Harry, hoping for something, anything, that would point me in the right direction.
Digging my hands into my pockets, because it was late enough that I was chilly now, I felt Venus’s necklace and wondered if part of seeing what I had to would mean seeing through David’s eyes.
Or Jackson’s.
And then I wondered if I was up to it.
Sure, sometimes I could see like a dog, I could understand what should be unfathomable. But this was different, David and Jackson were of my own species, yet more baffling than anything I’d run across.
Still, I couldn’t help feeling that part of what I was seeking lay hidden there, with David, Jackson, and Charlotte, maybe with Cora, too—people who were unable to see the world as I needed it seen because they were infinitely more lost and confused than I now felt.