Читать книгу Out of Mind - Michael Burke - Страница 12

4

City Hall Park was a quiet oasis in the center of town, framed by most of the town’s administration: the Courthouse, Police Headquarters, and the Mayor Montgomery Office Building. A grand red oak grew in the center and provided welcome shade that shifted during the day with the angle of the sun. The benches across the street from City Hall were filled with the lunch crowd. I picked up a hot dog from the vendor at the corner covered with mustard and sauerkraut. The Park sloped down to the southeastern edge where the KittyLuv building was located. The only bench that overlooked that corner was inhabited by one of the Park’s semi-permanent residents, a bearded, graying man wearing an ancient, frayed serge suit, so oversized that it masked any evidence of his real shape. He wore a wide gold-and-blue striped tie that was chic in the fifties, and that doubled as a napkin. A strange unidentifiable aroma formed an almost visible cloud that hovered over him and added an exotic flavor to my lunch. Our town’s enforcers of moral cleanliness had tried many times to send him on his way, but he persevered and eventually they gave up. He was categorized on the police blotter as Male Loiterer Number Six, and ‘Number Six’ stuck as his name. He had gained a moment of notoriety when the local paper included him in an article about the decline of our morals, and then they forgot about him. I sat down beside Number Six, and gave him a brief “Hello.” He didn’t say anything, or even look my way; he was concentrating on the scene before him.

KittyLuv was headquartered in a classic nineteenth-century building, an elegant relic from the past. Four stories high but only as wide as a two-car garage. A marble arch framed the large, wooden double door at the entrance, and each of the floors above sported an ornate balcony. A massive American flag waved from a rod jutting out just below the peaked roof. A driveway led alongside the left wall of the building, then sloped down to a parking lot in back. A long black limousine sat at the curb in front of the building; a uniformed chauffeur—two rows of brass buttons, slick gloves, and a cap tilted confidently to one side—leaned against the front fender nursing a cigarette. Must be Samson.

KittyLuv’s staff was returning after their lunch break. Number Six suddenly sat upright, his interest aroused, and stared straight ahead.

I tried again. “Nice day, don’t ya think?”

No answer.

“Nice car,” I tried again, motioning toward the limousine.

Silence.

“Too nice!” Number Six suddenly growled. “Too damn nice!”

We sat for a while watching the people on the sidewalk come and go.

“Give money for kittens and look what they buy. What fucking kitten is that going to help?”

“Their brochure says they do good things.” I held out the brochure that Louella had given me.

“Where’d you get that?” Six finally turned toward me.

“It’s their public face. Apparently they give money to rescue homeless kittens in Africa and find them nice loving places to stay.”

“Yeah! Some cuddly, little, fucking home. Fat chance!”

“There’s pictures, look.” I opened the pamphlet to a picture of an adorable kitten, tenderly held by a young woman. “They saved this little kitten from a life of misery and loneliness. Just for, like, twenty dollars or something.”

“Fuck!” Number Six was getting worked up. “People gave money, and they bought that big-assed car. That’s what they did!”

Number Six had a point. It wasn’t really clear how the shiny limousine was helping baby cats.

“There she is.” Number Six suddenly perked up.

“There who is?” I asked.

“Who asked you?” he growled and continued to stare straight ahead.

A radiant glow of red hair sat atop a figure walking toward the front door of KittyLuv. With the August sun shining, the figure was a beacon, a siren, leading the weak to their destruction. I couldn’t make out her features, but I bet I’d just seen Vera Booby. Number Six had been waiting to spot her and now had fulfilled his goal for the day. He worked his way to a semi-upright position and shuffled off in the opposite direction. I called out a “see you tomorrow” and watched him shrink into the distance. Kathy and Number Six had both abandoned me today. I envied Number Six’s clear-cut vision of life. Come to the Park, wait for the red-haired vision, see her, then go off, satisfied, until tomorrow.