Queen's Park

CHAPTER TWO

“He calls it his mate,” Ernie dropped into the swiveling recliner facing the fireplace.

“I don’t know how you can ride in the back seat with that doll in the front.” Nanny took a quick gulp of oxygen. Her face was a geological map of a life in shades of cookie dough.

She lifted the clear plastic oxygen tubing over silver hair and dropped it. The tube left grooves in the flesh on her face.

“Nanny… ” Ernie said.

She reached for the pack of menthols. Curling her hand around the lighter, she flicked the wheel. With the cigarette between two hooked fingers, she lit and inhaled. Her eyes widened as the nicotine filled what remained of her lungs. “I think it’s sick paying $6,000 for a doll.” Her voice was a rasp on oak, tearing away at each word. “He’s got better things to spend his money on.”

Ernie rubbed his palms on denim. “Says she never talks back, never tells him how to drive and doesn’t say anything when he picks his nose.”

“He should put some clothes on her if he’s gonna take her wherever he goes.” Nanny took a pull on the cigarette.

He picked a dog hair from his black T-shirt. “Says she understands his problems.”

“Sick old bastard! Why do you have to tell me all of this?”

“Because you always ask.” He leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs.

“Heard the news about your Uncle?” She pronounced the ‘your’ as if Bob Swatsky was Ernie’s fault.

He rubbed the bruise on his left cheek and wondered how long it would take to fade.

“Police found your Uncle Bob’s car and they’re still looking for the money.” Nanny nodded in the direction of the TV. MUTE was written across the bottom of a man’s belly. The man on the screen bit into a hot dog dripping ketchup, onions and mustard. He smiled and chewed while gripping the bun with thick fingers.

Ernie’s eyes slid out of focus as the flashback filled his mind. Uncle Bob’s sausage fingers gripped Ernie high on the thigh. Then, fingers pulled at Ernie’s belt. A knife blade ran across the bridge of Ernie’s nose. The smell of onions on Bob’s breath. Ernie focused on the open collar of his Uncle’s white shirt and the hollow at his throat. Ernie’s free right hand automatically crossed forefinger over index; the way he’d been trained to do it in karate. He pulled his elbow back. A roll of flesh sagged beneath Bob’s chin.

“On your knees,” Bob said.

Ernie struck. Both fingertips disappeared into the flesh at the base of Bob’s throat. Bob gurgled and dropped the knife, put his hands to his throat and fell forward. His suffocating weight fell on top of Ernie. Bob’s chin struck the boy on the cheek. His head hit the oak floor.

Ernie heard Scout whimpering.

He looked right. The scratches on the glass sliding door were nearly a half a meter long. Behind them sat his dog with her rear legs to one side and front paws trembling to hold the pose. She whimpered some more. Second hand smoke caught at the back of his throat.

“Aren’t you going to let her in?” Nanny said.

He stood. Grabbing the handle of the door, he looked down and saw the dog’s tail sweeping the deck. He opened the glass. Scout jumped up. “Down!” he said. He pushed Scout back across the deck and sat in a white plastic chair.

Scout sat next to him, lifting her chin so Ernie could scratch her throat. The dog’s ears were miniature sails. They turned to catch the sound of the gate squeaking open. A growl grew in her throat. “Hey,” Ernie said and stood. The hair on the back of the dog’s neck lifted. He caught the sound of heavy footsteps on the sidewalk. His heart pounded. He looked left, ready to escape into the house. His hand reached for the handle of the screen. His nostrils filled with the stench of fear, onions and sweat.

“Hello there, Scout.” The voice was friendly and commanding.

Scout backed up. A hand appeared, followed by the sleeve of a tweed sports jacket and the face of Detective Lane. His short hair was thinning on top. “Hi Ernie,” he said. His knees crackled when he crouched to offer his open palm to the dog. She moved forward to sniff his clothing. He smiled at Ernie and said, “I guess she smells my dog.”

Ernie reached for the sides of his chair, his legs like rubber.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Ernie wondered how the detective noticed so much while looking at Scout.

The detective’s eyes were dark brown. “Got some questions for your Grandmother.”

“Nanny, Detective Lane is here,” Ernie said.

“What the hell does he want?”

Lane smiled broadly and walked towards the doorway. Another five centimeters in height and he would have to duck. Ernie spotted Lane’s missing earlobe. “What happened?” He pointed a finger at the mangled ear.

Lane turned and lifted his left hand to the side of his head. “This? Domestic dispute.” He pointed to the scratches on the glass door. “What happened here?”

“Scout… ” Ernie said. The dog trotted over. “When Bob came after me, she tried to get in.”

“YOU WANNA TALK OR NOT?” Nanny’s voice was an engine without a muffler.

“Hello Leona,” Lane said and slid open the screen door.

Its wheels squealed as he closed it.

Scout dragged a paw across Ernie’s knee. She rolled and he leaned to scratch the fur along her belly. “How come no one wants to ask me what happened?”

Inside, Lane sat down on the black slate ledge at the mouth of the fireplace. For a little over two seconds, his eyes took in the flat plastic container with a separate compartment for each day’s medication. Kleenex, cigarettes and lighters were scattered across the coffee table. He noted Leona seemed to be shrinking inside her blue jogging suit and wondered if she noticed how frantic Ernie was. The boy had a magazine cover Latino face. Ernie’s beauty was a terrible gift, Lane decided.

Nanny blew smoke over the table top.

Lane studied the plastic tube at her feet. An oxygen machine hummed.

“Haven’t blown up yet,” Nanny wheezed.

“Can’t imagine it would be a pleasant experience for Ernie.”

“Leave him out of it.” A clot of phlegm appeared on Leona’s top lip and got caught in the mustache.

“I wasn’t aware he was involved.”

“He’s done nothing.”

“Didn’t say he had.”

Leona took a short sniff of oxygen, gathering herself, “Then, why are you here?”

“We can’t find your son-in-law.” Lane leaned forward now, putting his palms on the knees of his grey slacks.

“Bob’ll turn up. Always does.”

Lane considered the anger and regret woven into her reply. “Sounds like you wish he wouldn’t.”

“After what Bob’s done to my family, why would I want him back?” The end of her cigarette glowed.

Lane leaned closer, “What did he do, exactly?”

Leona looked at him for a moment, considered the last quarter of the cigarette. She glanced over her shoulder, saw Ernie and began a personal litany of painful memories. “My daughter, Judy, was 18 when she met Bob.” She pointed an arthritic finger at Lane. Her voice rose in volume as emotion elbowed its way in between the words. She stabbed the filter tip into the ash tray. “We had our store then. Macleod’s Hardware. It was our dream to own our own store. Saved for 15 years. The dream lasted three.” She leaned forward to put the oxygen tube back on. “Judy met Bob in grade 12. Did you know she had a bad leg?”

“No.”

“She did. God, that kid was always fighting. Her legs never seemed to work right and the kids used to pick on her somethin’ terrible. Judy never had a boyfriend till Bob came along. I tried to tell her he was no good for her but… ” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug, “Couldn’t tell her a thing. She ran away three times. Bob would hang around the store with his big, tough friends, Lester and Marvin. They’d sit in the back of a pickup and just stare. We even had a break-in. Knew it was them but the RCMP couldn’t prove a thing. Then the rumours started.”

“Rumours?”

“Someone started the rumour we were cheating our customers and that’s how come our daughter ran away. Business dropped off to nothin’. You ever lived in a small town?”

“No.”

“We had to sell. Judy kept comin’ back to the school to see Beth. She was only 13 then. Kept it all to herself. Tore Beth up inside. She gained 40 pounds in six months. All because of the upset. I was sick by that time. Ended up in the hospital and in bed for a month. Beth had to take care of me and do all the housework. The doctor told Beth if she ever ran away like Judy did, it’d kill me.”

Chair legs scraped over wood. Lane glanced to his left. Ernie was standing.

“Don’t know what I woulda done without her,” Nanny said.

Lane watched as Ernie looked at his grandmother. The detective saw rage and wondered what was behind the boy’s anger. Ernie jammed his feet into running shoes and grabbed the blue leash off the white table. Scout’s tail wagged.

“Are you listenin’?” Leona said.

Lane nodded.

“What did I say, then?”

“You don’t know what you would have done without Beth.”

Leona’s eyes held him for a minute-a silent challenge. “Didn’t see my Judy for five years after that. Not until her baby was born. The visit lasted 15 minutes before we started to fight. You know, if my brother was still alive he would have been able to help. Got killed in the war, though. Italy.”

“I’m sorry,” Lane said automatically and wondered where Ernie went when he was angry.

“After that, every time we got together with Judy I’d get in a fight with her or Bob would say somethin’ to get me goin’.”

“So, you wanted him dead?” He locked onto Leona’s pupils, waiting for her reaction.

She stared back at him without blinking, took a gulp of air and wheezed, “You bet.” She took another gulp of air, “Thought you said he disappeared.”

“Do you know where Bob Swatsky is?”

“I’d bet he’s crawled into a hole someplace.” She reached for her cigarettes.

Lane noticed a slight dilation of the pupils but it wasn’t enough to make him sure she was lying.

“Doesn’t she piss you off when she does that?” Ernie said to Scout.

She licked her lips and wagged her tail.

The leash bit into Ernie’s hand, “Slow down!” He pulled and she faced him, tongue hanging. Her saliva evaporated when it hit the concrete. “Doesn’t she piss you off?”

Scout sat, head tipped to one side, both front paws on the ground, one rear leg cocked under her rump, the other held out like an outrigger. Her tail swept the cement.

“I mean, Nanny tells the same story over and over. Makes me want to scream!”

Scout lifted her left paw.

Ernie reached down and took it in his hand. The calloused pads felt sandpaper cool against his palm. “She’s always complaining about her asthma and emphysema, then she smokes.”

Scout barked once.

“And she’s always bad mouthing Nonno.”

The dog leaned into the leash.

Ernie dropped to one knee, stuffed a thumb into the back of one running shoe and pulled it over his heel. Switching feet, he repeated the procedure.

Scout pressed her nose against his.

Ernie stood and wiped the back of his hand across his face. The sun dragged its fingernails along his neck.

Walking side by side, they passed hedges, dodged sprinklers and savoured the shade under trees.

Ernie glanced up the lawn to the brown screen door of a cream coloured bungalow. It was a glance as practiced and automatic as putting one foot ahead of the other. He saw the picture window, then his eyes moved on to the two smaller bedroom windows. He tried to guess which one was Lesley’s and hoped for a glimpse of her red hair. Lesley had grown up in that house. She had sat with Ernie in his grandfather’s living room and watched television for two glorious hours.

Another flashback felt like a blow to Ernie’s ribs. There was the knife blade at the bridge of his nose. Stainless steel was written on metal freshly licked by a whetstone. Uncle Bob Swatsky’s thick fingers probed him. Then Ernie heard, “I’ll cut your friggin’ nose off if you don’t’… ” The whisper was as cold as the knife.

Is this what it’ll be like from now on? Flashbacks of Bob crowding in on me? Ernie thought. Scout pulled him forward.

Up ahead, he spotted the Italian flag on the bumper of his grandfather’s red Dodge van. Next to the flag was ‘I’, a heart and Italia. Inside the sidewalk, a two meter high hedge created a green wall around three sides of the front yard. Ernie followed Scout through a gap in the hedge. On the other side, two spruce trees stood 15 meters high. Their branches touched. Scout turned left. Ernie reached over the white fence and opened the latch. Stepping down four stairs, he released the leash and lifted the branch of a raspberry bush. Thumb sized berries hid there. Ernie closed his eyes and remembered the calluses of his father’s hand, then his own thumb and forefinger picking the berries offered during long ago summers.

Deeper in the yard, next to the fence, a Cinzanno umbrella dropped a circle of shade over a table and three chairs. In one chair, with her back to him, wearing a pizza pan sized white straw hat and nothing else, sat the love doll. Her flesh was a healthy pink, her hair platinum blond and all of her nails were painted red.

“Nonno?” Ernie said. He leaned forward, looked over the back step and around the corner of the house. His grandfather was on hands and knees, fingers guiding an orange marigold from its green plastic pot into a hollow dug in the loam at the edge of the garden. The back of Nonno’s red and green T-shirt didn’t quite meet up with his green cotton pants. A plumber’s crack ran at right angles to his belt. Scout, trailing the snake of her leash, pranced up behind.

Ernie raised his right hand to signal the dog to stop. She paid no attention. Her nose had caught the scent of salt and sweat. Scout’s tongue slipped out and traveled along the crack from belt buckle to shirt.

“Son a ma bitch!” Scout backed away with her tail tucked. The marigold was launched into the air. Nonno threw his arms out to catch it but it was too far away. He fell face first into nasturtiums, marigolds and freshly turned earth.

Ernie felt something shift inside of him. A release of the tightness around his heart. For an moment he felt free of dread.

Nonno backed out of the garden. Keys and coins sang in the old man’s pocket as he ran across the yard. “Ernie!”

The boy looked up to see his grandfather’s nose blocking the sun. The old man’s eyes were as brown as the soil on his hands.

“Ernie!” Nonno’s fingers gripped the boy’s shoulders.

Through the tears in Ernie’s eyes, Nonno swam and laughter erupted in painful sobs. Ernie pointed helplessly at Nonno, “You… You.”

“Son a ma bitch.” The old man gripped the brim of his ball cap and slapped it against his thigh.

Ernie leaned back, laughing at the sky.

“You gotta watch that goddamn dog! Give me a friggin’ heart attack!” Nonno jammed fists onto hips and cocked his head so the boy saw a thicket of hair inside each of his grandfather’s nostrils.

Ernie wiped a sleeve across his eyes, “You looked so funny.” He laughed some more.

“Good to hear you laughing.”

The boy wiped a sleeve across his eyes.

“You want some wine?”

Ernie nodded.

Nonno turned.

A bee flew too close to Scout. She launched herself, hung in the air, curled back her lips and bit down on the bug. It spun to the ground. The dog pounced.

“How come she does that?” Nonno said as he opened the screen door, stamped the earth from his shoes and stepped out of them.

“Maybe cause she never gets stung,” Ernie said while pulling up a chair across from the doll. His eyes fell to the line of shadow running across the tops of her breasts where darker colours circled nipples. He crossed his legs, feeling the pressure of an erection.

“Say hello to your Nonna.” Nonno stepped out the back door with index finger and thumb stuck into two glasses. The other hand held a wine bottle.

Shame and a strange kind of revulsion hit Ernie low in the belly. He looked at the old man and tilted his head to the left.

“Go on.” Nonno set three glasses on the table. “Say hello to your Nonna, your grandmother.”

“Hello, Nonna.”

Nonno smiled and filled both glasses. Ernie caught the wine’s rich scent and remembered the weekend they’d spent carrying, sorting and pressing the grapes down in the basement where the air remained thick with fermentation. Grandfather held his glass up, allowing the sun to shine through the red. “Almost one year old.” Nonno took a sip and smiled.

Ernie drank, catching the faint promise of the future at the tip of the tongue and the back of the throat.

“Good for the heart.” The old man slapped a palm against his ribs then lifted his cap and wiped a sleeve across his forehead. “A hot one, today.”

“The police are at Nanny’s. What’s going on?”

Nonno’s eyes, deep set behind sagging skin, locked onto the boy. Then he looked at the doll. A breeze wiped blonde hair across her face. Her blue eyes appeared to be focused on Scout. The dog was on her back attempting to catch her tail. Nonna’s elbows rested on the arms of the chair, her hands open, thumbs angled away from fingers. “Your grandmother and I got it all figured out.”

Ernie sipped at his wine and tried to avoid looking at her perfect breasts.

“Nonna tells me, ‘The boy has his whole life ahead of him. Up to us to protect the boy.’ That’s what she says to me.”

“But… ” Ernie began.

The old man held up his hand to halt conversation. “Drink your wine.” He pointed at the doll before pointing at himself, “Let us take care of the rest.”

Ernie spotted the SWATSKY’S FORD logo. It was veiled by a layer of mustard coloured dust collected at the rear of the grey Taurus. On the bumper, a blue sticker warned, THIS VEHICLE INSURED BY SMITH AND WESSON.

Scout growled.

Ernie’s mouth turned dry. He studied the men inside. They sat in the front seats. Their shoulders came within a finger’s width of touching. The back of the driver’s head was like wet, black plastic. Heat rose off the roof and made the air waver.

A cigarette arced out the nearest window and landed near Scout’s nose. The butt rolled and caught in a crack in the cement.

The shock of Scout’s lunge almost turned Ernie’s elbow inside out. She hit the end of the leash. Bent at the waist, he stumbled behind her, struggling to rein her in. Scout rose up on her hind legs only centimeters from the open passenger window.

The tanned elbow of the man in the passenger’s seat disappeared inside of the car. “What the hell?”

Ernie leaned back, reeled in the dog, and ended up sitting on the grass looking through the window at the passenger and driver. He grabbed Scout’s collar with his right hand. The dog’s rage telegraphed its way to Ernie’s fingers. He stood up, then his mouth fell open when he saw the driver leaning forward. A gun flopped forward against the satin lining of his grey sports coat. “What’s your problem, kid?” His face was round as a pizza. Ernie counted four chins. The guy in the passenger seat was bald.

“Nothin’,” Ernie said. He pulled Scout away from the car. Sweat rolled down his ribs. He looked at the men through the windshield and studied the passenger whose eyebrows seemed to form one line.

“What you lookin’ at?” The man leaned his head out the passenger window. Scout snarled.

Ernie smelled a mixture of sweat and garlic seeping out from inside the car. “Come on.” He dragged Scout across the street. Her nails clawed the pavement as she fought to get at the two men. Ernie pulled her onto the driveway. At the gate, he released her collar and she ran, tail high, around to the back of the house. She pranced up the stairs and onto the deck. He followed along the side of the house, past the brick of the chimney and onto the deck.

Lane said, “So, I’ll probably be back in a day or two with more questions.”

“Not much I can do about that,” Nanny said.

“I think we made some progress today,” Lane said.

The screen door slid open and Lane looked at Ernie. “You okay, Ernie? You look a little pale.”

Ernie opened his mouth and closed it again. He wanted to ask about the men and the pistol. Then he recalled all of the questions in the hospital. Probing questions. “Where exactly did your Uncle put his hands? Was there penetration? Did he put his penis in your mouth?” Ernie closed his mouth.

“Bye.” Lane stepped past.

Ernie caught the scent of berries in the detective’s shampoo and soap.

“See ya girl.” The policeman leaned over and scratched Scout’s chin. She licked his hand in reply.

Ernie listened to the sound of Lane’s shoes as he walked along the side of the house and opened the gate.

“You comin’ in?” Nanny said.

“Yes, Nanny.” Ernie heard the sarcasm in his voice but it was too late to take it back.

“Don’t you be smart with me.”

He put his nose against the screen. “I… ”

Scout barked and ran to the side of the house.

“It’s the wop in you. I warned your mother about this.”

Ernie felt anger running in his belly.

“I told your mother it’d be like this if she ever had kids. Told her my brother was killed in Italy during the war. He used to write home about the people there. Said the women were whores and the men weren’t much better. It’s in the blood. Told Beth she’d have nothin’ but pain if she married the wop!”

Rage formed the words for Ernie. “If it wasn’t for you… ”

Scout barked again.

The door bell rang.

“Get the door,” Nanny said. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d be in jail.”

“Better than living with you.” He opened the screen and stepped through. Scout followed.

“What’d you say?”

Ernie stepped past, feeling himself balanced on the edge of a precipice. On one side were all of the words he wanted to say. All of the words his grandmother would never forget. On the other side was surrender. The choice his mother had made.

“Goddamn Stampede around here,” Nanny said, following them to the front door.

Turning away from her, Ernie moved down the hallway. He grabbed the door knob. Scout was at the window, her nose nudging the curtains aside. Ernie opened the door.

Scout growled.

The two men, their shoulders close together, looked like the front line of a geriatric football team. A pair of bellies curved and fell out between suspenders. The bald one wore a blue golf shirt. Round Face still wore his grey jacket over a blue golf shirt.

“We’re here to ask some questions about Robert Swatsky,” Round Face said.

Ernie felt Scout’s nose push between his calves. She barked and squirmed outside. Her teeth were bared. There was a hollow thump as Round Face’s square toed boot met her ribs. She yelped once before collapsing at the boy’s feet. “You bastards!” Ernie said and crouched to put his hands on her side. He felt her ribs rise as she struggled to breathe. She whimpered when he found the place where she’d been kicked.

“What you two doing here?” Nanny said.

Ernie looked over his shoulder at her.

“Friggin’ dog came after us!” Round Face said.

Ernie began to straighten up. Fear was replaced by an anger so deep he almost remembered where he’d felt it once before. He crouched, left foot ahead of right, keeping his knees and elbows bent the way he’d been taught. His fists were clenched tight against his ribs.

“Ernie!” Nanny said. “No more of that goddamned karate!”

He took a step forward. The men looked at one another. Round Face moved his right hand inside his jacket.

“Ernie! For Christ’s sake, no!”

He took another step.

“Ernie!” Come here!” Nanny gripped the back of his shirt. Ernie turned to her.

“Stick with Granny, boy,” Round Face said.

Nanny reached out and grabbed the muscle running from Ernie’s neck to his shoulder. He leaned his head into the pain. She looked at the two men, “You’re Bob’s buddies.”

“We’re private investigators.” Round Face stuck his right thumb in behind a suspender.

“Bull shit! You’re Lester,” she said to Round Face then pointed at baldy, “You’re Marvin. I bet the two of you are lookin’ for Bob and his money. I remember you tried to put the scare into me when my Judy ran away.”

“You’re crazy,” Lester said before glancing at his brother.

Nanny stepped toward them. “Where’s my Judy?”

“How the hell would we know?”

“I swore after you two and Bob messed up my family, I’d never let anyone do that again.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

“What can you do about it?” Lester’s smile revealed a gold crown.

“Ever seen what happens when fire and oxygen mix?” She moved a step closer to them.

They stepped back. “You always were a crazy bitch.” Lester put his hands out front to push her away.

“Still am.” She opened the cigarette package and lifted out a red lighter.

“We’re not afraid of you!” Lester said over his shoulder while backing away. “You and your wop grandson!”

“Come close to me or mine again and I’ll… ” she pulled the oxygen tubes over her head, dropped them to the ground, put a smoke between her lips and lit. “… burn the pair of you.”

Ernie and Nanny watched as the brothers hurried across the street and opened the doors of the Ford.

“Took me a while to figure out that the reason those two are always trying to scare other people is ‘cause they’re chicken.” She pointed the cigarette at the retreating pair. “When somebody like that is always trying to scare you, it means there’s a good chance they’re afraid.”

“Just like Bob,” Ernie said.

“That’s right.” She put the cigarette to her lips. “I’m gonna make a fresh pot of coffee. Want a cup?”