Touch and Go. Литагент HarperCollins USD
Hermanos saw to that. Leonie had to show anything she got to Mrs Hermanos before going home.
‘Those Hermanos,’ I says, ‘they’re OK to work for now the lady’s gone?’
‘She’s all right, I guess. Never did see much of him. Calls himself a butler …’ She giggles at that. ‘I ain’t never seen a butler ’cept in the movies and he sure don’t act like them.’ She’s quiet for a bit, then she says: ‘They fight, the Hermanos … and when they don’t fight they hardly speak.’
I pretend surprise. ‘Hey, I heard they were a nice middle-aged couple that cared for the lady ’fore she died.’
‘She cared all right, Mrs Hermanos. I’ll give her that … Why, only the other day I see her crying her eyes out in the lady’s bedroom while she was sortin’ out the clothes that’s to go to some big cancer charity. Crying her eyes out, she was, all over that nice rug Mrs Probert used to take in the cab when she went to the hospital. I guess the death just got to her …’
I said Leonie’s a slow talker and it’s heavy going getting anything from her but I’d made sure we’d walked a fair ways so’s we’d have to take a bit of time getting back. So, the girl likes the attention. Probably not much had happened to her before she got the job at Mrs Probert’s apartment and, though she’s no fast thinker, she’s kept her ears and eyes open.
‘They was all lovey-dovey at first, the Hermanos … They’d not been married long. Guess she thought herself lucky to get a man at all. She’s forty if she’s a day, and he’s a handsome spic if you like that kinda thing.’
I’d put Leonie down as Spanish-American herself but didn’t like to say so. Anyways, what she’s getting at is José Hermanos is part-Mexican which in Leonie’s book is spic.
‘Love’s young dream can start at any age, Leonie,’ I says, ‘Mebbe the dream didn’t last. When did the quarrels start?’
She had a long think, and finished the bagels. ‘When the lady was near to dying. Mrs Hermanos was with her a lot in the bedroom. I wasn’t never let in there ’cept to carry trays and clean up, and get the bedsheets for washing. Nothin’ went to the laundry. Mrs Hermanos said all the bedlinen had to be done by us, laundries make it too stiff for sick folk … Anyways, one day I’m in cleaning the bathroom and I could hear Mrs Probert got angry.’
‘So, she was sick. Sick people get irritable.’
‘Mrs Probert weren’t like that. She weren’t the complaining type. I’d never heard her raise her voice like she did then. I heard her say, Is it true, Florence? That’s what she called Mrs Hermanos. Is it true about José? That’s what I heard her say. I never did get to hear what Mrs Hermanos said because she rousted me out that bathroom quick like she didn’t want me hearing no more.’
I says it must have been embarrassing for a nice girl like her to hear the Hermanos quarrelling in front of her.
‘It was Mrs Hermanos that got embarrassed, he just carried on like I wasn’t there.’
Leonie’s turning things over in that slow mind of hers, and it’s coming out like a dripping tap.
‘He says to her once to forget the damn jools, that wasn’t the job they were there for. He started to throw plates about. I could hear him from upstairs. Then the nurse went down, and that stopped him.’
So I says: ‘Did Mrs Probert have a nurse?’
‘Only for the nights that week she died. Mrs Hermanos didn’t like it but the doctor insisted. He always passed the time of day with me when he came, never ignored me like some. Polite, he was …’
‘And the nurse, was she polite?’
‘So-so. Never had much to say to anyone. Anyways, she were on nights when I’d gone home. I’d clean her room in the mornings when she was with the lady but she always left it tidy, nothing lyin’ about.’
Leonie sighs. ‘’Spose that’s how nurses get to be. Tidy. They don’t leave no mess around for other folk to clean up. When I goes to clean her room it’s like nobody’s ever been in it. If I’d the education, I’d sure like to be a nurse …’
So I tells her she’s meant for better things than cleaning up after people. I’m trying to get around to whether she’s seen any papers being burnt, but I’m careful, so I says, ‘like emptying out their dirty ashtrays and such …’
‘You gotta be joking. There ain’t nobody allowed to smoke in that apartment. Mrs Probert, she never smoked even when she was well and sat in the living-room reading or watching TV. When she got real sick she kept to the bedroom. That chemical stuff they did to her at the hospital, you shoulda seen the hair that come out on her brushes, the poor thing! There’d be nothin’ but hair in the trash can when I’d empty it.’
‘Guess cancer treatment’s worse’n the disease,’ I says, going along with her notion. ‘Pretty nasty for you, tho’, clearing up after a sick person.’
‘Wasn’t what you’d think ’cept for the washing. Kept that bedroom neat’s a pin, Mrs Hermanos did. She was in and outa there all day ’specially the last two weeks, hardly left the lady save when she were asleep.’
‘Guardian angel, huh? But Mrs Probert must have known she was near her end. Most folks be preparing for it … Making their wills and so on …’
‘Weren’t anything like that to do. Was all settled with the lawyers, Mrs Hermanos told me once. That’s why the lady didn’t have to worry her head about such things when she got so ill. There weren’t no papers like that I ever saw, and anyways all the writing stuff’s in the desk in the living-room and Madam hadn’t been in there in weeks. All that furniture just lay around gatherin’ dust.’
So we’re walking down our block by now and I’m not getting any more from Leonie Rojas so I stop at the Hotel door and say, ‘See you around, babe,’ at which she looks hopeful, poor kid. As instructed, I let two-three days go by before I takes her for another stroll in Central Park. She tells me she’s got another job, waitressing in a glitzy restaurant over on Broadway. I know who’s arranged that for her but I just say I’m glad, and mebbe I’ll be in touch. Unlikely; she’s too young, and she’s not my type but I’m not closing the door in case I get the word to call on her again. I get the message: my way’s been cleared to approach the next two subjects, Mr and Mrs Hermanos.
Report by Bernard Shulman. July 16
I’d shaved off my moustache which was temporary as my doorman’s job and I call at the late Mrs Probert’s apartment with a card from the rental agency. I’m wearing my best suit, custom-tailored slubbed silk with the pale green stripe, and black tasselled loafers that cost me a fortune. I guess I look the part OK, young businessman on the up-and-up seeking property to rent for my Momma and Poppa about to arrive in the Big Apple to share my good fortune.
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