Pulse

78

In the offices of Enders and Coil was what Jody could only think of as a subdued celebration.

Mildred Dash’s death solved a lot of problems.

Jack Enders, holding what looked like a scotch on the rocks, leaned toward Jody in passing and whispered, “ Deus ex machina.” He grinned. “Know what that means?”

“I think it’s Latin for ‘We didn’t have to kill her,’ ” Jody said.

Enders moved away, holding the grin for her benefit.

Joseph Coil edged up to Jody and beamed down at her. “You feeling okay? You look a little pale.”

“My stomach’s a bit upset,” Jody said.

“The excitement, maybe.” He took a sip of whatever he was drinking. It looked like water. “Listen, Jody, I know this case was of particular interest to you. That you even had a special sympathy for Mildred Dash. You might find it difficult to believe, but we all felt that way about her. At least most of us.”

“The law is the law,” Jody said.

Coil looked at her seriously. “No, Jody, it isn’t.”

Dollie the receptionist squeezed past them, bumping Coil’s elbow so some of his drink spilled on Jody’s arm. Unaware that she’d caused the problem, Dollie continued on her way.

Coil took the napkin he’d been using to hold his glass and patted Jody’s arm dry.

“You do look rather peaked,” he said. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Rest up. Give it a new start tomorrow.”

Jody smiled at him and nodded. There was no way to dislike this man on a personal level, even if he was a highway robber.

“I think I will,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Take in a show tonight,” Coil suggested. “Forget about this.”

“Maybe I will. Something with a happy ending.”

“It all depends what kind of ticket you buy,” Coil said, raising his glass to her and showing her his back.

Meaning my future is my choice.

Everything everybody said in this place seemed to have at least a double meaning. As if life were a courtroom and their words would be reviewed on appeal, and God help them if they were too honest and plainspoken.

Jody was getting tired of that delicate verbal dance and the alertness and dexterity it demanded.

What the hell aren’t they telling me?

She didn’t go out to a play or swoon into a faint after leaving the firm’s ghoulish celebration. Where Jody went after leaving Enders and Coil was to the Meeding Properties demolition site.

Meeding had obviously been prepared and wasted no time. Mildred Dash’s possessions had been removed from her apartment and put in storage, in case an heir chose to claim them. Where her apartment had stood was nothing but a cracked concrete slab.

The development company seemed to have sprung to work only moments after Mildred’s death. No doubt on the advice of Enders and Coil, they’d made sure the deed was done before any possible sort of stay could be issued.

The block-long wound in the landscape was now unbroken by anything higher than three feet. Yellow bulldozers were scooping up dirt and debris and dropping it into the beds of sturdy-looking trucks. The trucks bounced and shuddered as each mass of weight suddenly crashed down with the metallic clang of the dozer blades. Then they emitted much roaring and clouds of dark exhaust and drove away. Workers in hard hats stood off to the side, leaning on shovels and conferring like wise men witnessing some solemn event.

Well, they were right about that. The end of Mildred Dash’s long struggle, everything she’d fought for being devoured by yellow monsters, was indeed somber. Unfair and final and debasing. As far as the eye could see was the mud of defeat.

A short, heavy woman with a round, seamed face like a withered apple approached Jody. She was wearing joggers, jeans, and a T-shirt. At first Jody assumed she was one of the workers and was too careless to wear her hard hat. She looked familiar, but Jody couldn’t place her.

“The hospital waiting room this morning,” the woman said, seeing that Jody was searching her memory. “We weren’t introduced. I’m Iva Dunn, Mildred Dash’s niece.”

“Jody Jason.”

“I know who you are,” Iva Dunn said. “And I know of your concern about Mildred losing her apartment.”

“I thought she had a legal right to live there. Or at least to slow down the process of eviction so she had some kind of leverage.”

“She did slow it down,” Iva said, with a glance at open space where the apartment building had stood.

“But not enough.” Jody pointed. “Look at them, like voracious monsters eating up the past and the future.”

“I just see machinery,” Iva said.

Jody shook her head. “I see defeat.”

“I thought you might. That’s why when I saw you I came over here. Not just to thank you for your efforts, but because you really should believe that Mildred won her battle.”

Jody looked at her, confused. Iva Dunn seemed serious. Joseph Coil was so right about the truth being complicated. “How so?” she asked. “The building is gone, along with her apartment. Let’s face it; the developer got lucky and Mildred died instead of hanging on for weeks or months. It no longer remains necessary to physically remove her from where she lived for over twenty years, or to stop the demolition.”

Iva gave her that knowing smile again. “It was never Mildred’s intention to actually stop the demolition. Or even to delay it all that much.”

“I understand that. But still and all…”

“Mildred knew she’d be gone within weeks. If she had to die soon, she wanted to die here. And she got her wish. Believe me, Jody, she won.”

Jody looked again at the yellow dozers scooping up the debris of a life, of so many lives, claimed not by corporate progress but by time. Simple and inexorable time.

“We all fight different battles, Jody. We tell different lies and we know different truths.”

Jody thought Iva Dunn sounded a lot like Joseph Coil.

“If that’s how Mildred saw it, then I guess it’s her victory at that,” she said, turning around.

But Iva Dunn was gone.

Jody stayed for a while and watched the demolition.

Malleability.