Little Boy Blues. Mary Jane Maffini
I actually went.
But if I was going to get a life, I couldn’t think of a better place to find it.
Three
By the time I got downtown, my T-shirt was stuck to my back. The Bermudas chafed my thighs. My feet smelled, and my head hurt. I clutched my iced latte from the Second Cup and finally pushed open the door of Justice for Victims. A rivulet of sweat trickled between my shoulder blades. But I was alone, gloriously, wondrously alone.
I decided to get in the mood for the funding proposal by whipping the in-basket into shape. I started with the stack of bills. Quite a few of them had a telltale red strip on the return envelope. Apparently Alvin had been distracted during the previous three months. Half an hour later I confirmed it. JVF was in great shape, if you didn’t count the hydro, the business tax, the photocopier rental and the insurance. Our phone bill, now two months late, had an entire sheet detailing collect calls from Alvin’s mother in Sydney.
Then I found the note from the landlord outlining what to expect if we didn’t ante up the rent, pronto.
To offset the bills, I had practically no income and, unless I was wrong, I had missed our deadline to file for several key grants that keep organizations like Justice for Victims from going down for the third time.
Never mind. I was alone and loving it. With a song in my heart, I answered the phone. The song faded when the automated voice asked if I would accept the charges for a long distance call from someone called Ferguson. I had a damn good reason to press one for yes.
“Mrs. Ferguson,” I said, before she could say a word, “Alvin, as you should be aware, does not work here any more. I suggest you direct your calls to his new place of business. I will be happy to provide you with that number.”
“Hello? Allie?”
I rubbed my temple.
“Who is this?” the voice said.
“Let me make my point again. Alvin does not work here. Not that he ever really did. You can find him at Gadzooks Gallery. Goodbye.”
“I need to speak to Allie.” You couldn’t mistake the hysteria in that crazy woman’s voice. No wonder Alvin was always so distracted.
“Sorry. Alvin doesn’t work here any more.” I enjoyed hanging up.
When the phone rang again, I was ready to press two for no, nay, never. But this time it wasn’t a collect call. It wasn’t Alvin’s mother either.
“Miss MacPhee?”
“Yes.”
“This is Tracy Ferguson. Alvin’s sister? We are so sorry to bother you, but we don’t know what to do. We know Allie has a new job, but we need your help.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I think it was because Tracy Ferguson was someone’s sister, and yet, she sounded gentle, nervous and utterly inept. My sisters are more like the offensive line for the Argos. Jump out of their way, or you’ll get grass up your nose.
Unless I was wrong, Tracy was the sister who taught elementary school. I could hear her speaking urgently to someone in the background. “It’s all right, Ma, you lie down now. I’ll talk to her. Okay?”
I tried being reasonable. “As you know, Tracy, Alvin started his new job this morning. Let me get the number for you.” I flipped through my desk for the Gadzooks Gallery cards that Alvin had thoughtfully deposited around Justice for Victims during the final three weeks of his employment.
“But that’s it, Miss MacPhee. Alvin isn’t at the gallery.”
“Well, he isn’t here. He should be at Gadzooks.”
“But he isn’t.”
“It’s an art gallery. They don’t answer their phones before ten.”
“But they did answer the phone, and they said Alvin wasn’t in.”
I found myself massaging my temple again. “Well, I don’t think you have much to worry about. He’ll drift in to work in his own sweet time. Trust me.”
“Miss MacPhee?”
“Look, um...”
“Tracy.”
“Why don’t you try him at home?”
“He doesn’t answer his phone.”
“Well, he is probably on his way to Gadzooks.” How could an entire family be so stunningly irritating?
“But he wasn’t at his apartment. We started calling last night. We left about ten messages.”
Okay. Tracy might sound like she was ten years old, but we all had to grow up sometime. “Perhaps Alvin spent the night with a friend.”
“Oh.”
“Right.”
“It’s urgent. Because of my little brother, Jimmy. We can’t find him anywhere.”
Unless I was wrong, Alvin’s little brother was twenty-one.
“My mother is really upset. We need to find Jimmy soon.”
“News flash, Tracy. Sometimes young men get distracted and forget about their mothers. He’ll be able to look after himself.”
“But that’s just it. Jimmy couldn’t.”
Not my problem. I thought someone should tell Mrs. Ferguson to let her baby boy grow up. “Everything will work out.”
“It won’t!” Tracy’s voice rose. “He can’t look after himself.” She said something else, but I missed the rest in an explosion of nose blowing.
“Biss BacPhee?”
“Maybe Jimmy felt like a bit of a break.” And no wonder. “He left his medication.
He needs that, or his seizures will start again. He doesn’t have his puffer. And he left Gussie on the road. He’d never do that.”
“Who?”
“Gussie. He loves that dog. He’d never leave her to fend for herself downtown in the traffic. Jimmy has disappeared. He’s absolutely vanished. Now we can’t find Allie, and we need to tell him.”
She had me. Whatever Alvin’s flaws, ignoring his large family wasn’t one of them.
I couldn’t concentrate with incessant calls from the Fergusons. I had no clients scheduled because of the quasi-holiday. Plus the inside of Justice for Victims by this time was one hell of a lot hotter than the Ottawa streets.
“Okay. I’ll do what I can.”
“Thank you. You know Allie thinks the world of you, Miss MacPhee.”
Ah, shit.
• • •
The phone rang as I reached the door. On the off chance it was Tracy calling to say Jimmy had shown up or Alvin calling to apologize for the inconvenience, I shot across the desk and grabbed the receiver.
“I know I am breathtaking, and it’s time you realized it, Tiger.”
My friend P. J. Lynch sounded too cheerful for a reporter who’d been yanked back from a big-time assignment in Charlottetown to deal with his mother’s heart attack.
“How’s your mom?” I asked.
“False alarm. They boosted her meds, she’s home again, ready to rumble.”
“That’s a relief. I’ll send her flowers.”
“Don’t worry about it. Listen, I have terrific news.”
“It is terrific news, P. J. But I’ve got to tear off and find Alvin.”
“Find