The Underground Man

chapter 21

Along Mrs. Snow’s street the jacaranda blossoms hung like purple clouds caught and condensing on the branches of the trees. I sat in my car for a minute and rested my eyes on them. Brown-skinned children were playing in the yard next door.

The curtain over Mrs. Snow’s front window twitched like an eyelid with a tic. Then she came out and approached my car. She was wearing rusty silk that resembled armor and her face was blanched with powder, as if she was expecting an important visitor.

Not me. She said in controlled fury: “You have no right to do this. You’re persecuting us.”

I climbed out and stood with my hat in my hand. “That’s not my intention, Mrs. Snow. Your son’s an important witness.”

“But he doesn’t have to talk without a lawyer. I know that much – he’s been in trouble before. But this time he’s as innocent as a little newborn babe.”

“That innocent?”

She stood unsmiling, blocking the way to her house. The elders of the family next door, sensing the possibility of trouble, quietly came outside. They drifted in our direction like a forming audience.

Mrs. Snow gave them a long look, in which anger congealed into something very like fear. She turned to me:

“If you insist on talking, come inside.”

She took me into her little front room. The tea that Mrs. Broadhurst had spilled stained the rug like the old brown evidence of a crime.

Mrs. Snow stayed on her feet, and kept me standing.

“Where’s Fritz?”

“My son is in his room.”

“Can’t he come out?”

“No, he can’t. The doctor is coming to see him. I don’t want you getting him all upset, the way you did yesterday.”

“He was upset before I talked to him.”

“I know that. But you made it worse. Frederick is weak in his feelings. He has been since he had his nervous breakdown. And I’m not going to let you send him back to the nursing home if I can help it.”

I felt a twinge of shame, simply because she was small and female and indomitable. But she was standing in my way, and the lost boy was somewhere on the other side of her.

“Do you know Al Sweetner, Mrs. Snow?”

She compressed her lips, and shook her head. “I never heard of him.” But the eyes behind her spectacles were watchful.

“Didn’t Al come by your house last week?”

“He may have. I’m not home all the time. What was that name again?”

“Al Sweetner. He was killed last night. The Los Angeles police told me he escaped from Folsom Prison.”

Her dark eyes brightened like a nocturnal animal’s caught by a flashlight. “I see.”

“Did you give him money, Mrs. Snow?”

“Not much. I gave him a five-dollar bill. I didn’t know that he escaped from prison.”

“Why did you give him money?”

“I felt sorry for him,” she said.

“Was he a friend of yours?”

“I wouldn’t say that. But he needed gas to get out of town, and I could spare him five dollars.”

“I heard you gave him twenty.”

She looked at me without wavering. “What if I did? I had no change. And I didn’t want him hanging around until Frederick got home from work.”

“Was he a friend of Frederick’s?”

“I wouldn’t call him a friend. Al was a friend to no one, including himself.”

“But you knew him.”

She sat down, stiffly upright, on the edge of the platform rocker. I sat on a chair nearby. Her face was closed and intent. She looked like a woman who had taken a deep breath and submerged herself.

“I’m not denying I knew him. He lived with us here in this house for a while when he was a boy. He was already in trouble, and the county was looking for a foster home. It was either that or the Preston Reformatory. Mr. Snow was still living then, and we agreed to take Albert into our home.”

“That was generous of you.”

She shook her head abruptly. “I don’t claim that. We needed the money. We wanted to keep our home together, for Frederick, and Mr. Snow was ailing, and prices were sky-high in those days, too. Anyway, we took Albert in and did our best for him. But he was a hard case already – there wasn’t much we could do to straighten him out. And he was a bad influence on Frederick. We were trying to make up our minds what to do when he solved the question for us. He stole a car and ran away with a girl.”

“And Frederick was involved, wasn’t he?”

She drew in a long breath like a diver coming up for air. “You’ve heard about it, have you?”

“Just a little.”

“Then you probably heard it all wrong. A lot of people blamed Frederick for the whole thing, because he was the oldest. But Albert Sweetner was old beyond his years, and so was the girl. She was only fifteen or so but you can take my word for it, she was experienced. Frederick was easily led, like putty in their hands.”

“Did you know the girl?”

“I knew her.”

“What was her name?”

“Marty Nickerson. Her father was a construction man – when he worked. They lived in a motel at the end of this street. The way I got to know Marty, she used to help in the kitchen when Mr. and Mrs. Broadhurst had a party. I was keeping house for the Broadhursts at the time. Marty was a pretty little thing, but hard as nails. She was the real ringleader, if you want my opinion. And she was the one who got off scot-free, of course.”

“Exactly what happened?”

“They stole a car, as I said. It must have been Marty’s idea because they stole it from a man she knew – he owned the motel where she lived. Then the three of them ran off to Los Angeles. That was her idea, too – she wanted to be a movie actress and she was crazy to go and live in Los Angeles. They lasted three days and nights down there, sleeping in the car and scrounging for food. Then the three of them got caught trying to lift some goods from a day-old bakery shop.”

She was talking with a kind of unconscious gusto, as if the adventure had been hers as well as her son’s. The feeling became conscious, and she repressed it, forcing iron disapproval on her face.

“The worst of it was, Marty Nickerson turned up pregnant. She was underage, and Frederick admitted he had carnal knowledge of her and the judge and probation people gave him a hard choice. He could stand trial as an adult and take his chances on going to the pen. Or he could plead guilty in Juvenile Court and get probation with six months in forestry camp. The lawyer said we shouldn’t try to fight it – they bear down hard if you fight them in Juvenile Court – so Frederick went to forestry camp.”

“What happened to the others?”

“Marty Nickerson got married. She married the man she stole the car from, and they never even took her into court.”

“Where is she now?”

“I don’t really know. The man had a business in the northern part of the county, and for all I know she’s still living with him there.”

“What’s her married name?”

She considered the question. “I don’t remember. I can find out if it’s important. She sent Frederick a Christmas greeting the first year, which took some nerve on her part. I think he still has it in his keepsake drawer.”

“What about Al?”

“Al is another story. It wasn’t his first offense. He was already on probation, and they sent him to Preston until he was of age. I remember when he got out. It was fifteen years ago this past summer, and the jacarandas were starting to bloom. He came here to pick up his things. I’d kept them for him in a carton – some schoolbooks and a blue suit that the county had bought for him to go to church in. But the blue suit didn’t fit him any more, and he wasn’t interested in the books. I gave him a good meal and a little money.”

She shook her head as if I had spoken. “It wasn’t generosity on my part. I wanted to get rid of him before Frederick got mixed up with him again. Frederick was working for the Forest Service at that time, and I didn’t want Albert interfering with his job. But it happened anyway.”

“What happened?”

“Albert lost him his job and gave him a nervous breakdown into the bargain. I don’t want to go into the gory details. What’s past is past, and Albert didn’t set foot on my doorstep again until he showed up last week. Now you tell me he’s dead.”

“He was murdered in Northridge last night. We don’t know who did it, or why. But it might help if you tell me what happened fifteen years ago. How did Albert give Fritz a nervous breakdown?”

“By getting him in trouble. It’s always the same old story.”

“What was the trouble?”

“He took Frederick’s tractor and went joyriding in the hills. But of course it wasn’t Frederick’s, and that was the point. The tractor was U.S. Government property, and Frederick could have been sent to federal prison along with Albert. As it was, they threw him out of his job, and it was all Albert’s fault.”

I was getting restless. “May I talk to Frederick, Mrs. Snow?”

“I don’t see any point in it. I’ve told you everything you asked. And I can tell you anything he can tell you.”

“But there may be things that you don’t know and he does.”

“I’m afraid you don’t understand,” she said with a faintly superior look. “Frederick and I are very close.” But after a moment she said: “What sort of things do you mean?”

“I’d prefer to talk to him about it. You’re his mother, and you’re naturally defensive.”

“I have to be. Frederick doesn’t stand up for himself. Ever since he had his breakdown and lost his job with the Forest Service, he blames himself for everything. You should have heard him crying in his room after you cross-questioned him yesterday.”

“He didn’t say anything incriminating to me.”

She gave me a skeptical look. “What did he say?”

“I don’t think I should tell you. He’s a grown man.”

“You’re wrong. He’s a boy in a man’s body. He’s never been the same since he had his nervous breakdown.”

“Which happened fifteen years ago, is that correct?”

“That’s correct. It was the summer Captain Broadhurst went away.”

“Was Frederick fond of the captain?”

“He worshiped the ground he walked on. Captain Broadhurst was like a father to him. He idolized the whole Broadhurst family. And it broke his heart when the captain ran off. It was like his own father dying on him all over again. I’m not making that up. Dr. Jerome said it himself.”

“Is he the doctor who’s coming to see Frederick?”

She nodded. “He should be here any time now.”

“Is he a psychiatrist?”

“We don’t believe in psychiatrists,” she said flatly. “Dr. Jerome is a good doctor. He’s Mrs. Broadhurst’s doctor, which means he has to be good. When Frederick had his breakdown she got him Dr. Jerome and paid the bills, including the nursing home. And when he got out of that place she gave him a job herself, in her own garden.” Mrs. Snow smiled dimly, sifting what cheer she could from the memory. “But now I’m afraid he’s going to lose that job, too.”

“I don’t see why he should, if he’s done nothing wrong. As a matter of fact, I don’t understand why he lost his job with the Forest Service.”

“Neither do I. Albert took the key to his ’dozer without his permission. But the district ranger didn’t believe my son. It all goes back to what happened in Juvenile Court three years before. Once a boy gets into trouble, he’s lost his good name for all future time.”