Free Live Free

The Old Man

“Hello, Mr. Stubb,” Free said. “I hadn’t figured to see you in my kitchen this hour of the night, though you’re mighty welcome. Might I to ask what brings you here?”

“Hunger, sir,” Stubb told him. “Hunger and curiosity.”

The old man massaged his forehead with one big gnarled hand. “You’re seeking to shame me because we didn’t save you some of what Mr. Barnes brought this evening. You’re right to do it, and you’ve done it, Mr. Stubb. I’m most heartily sorry about that.”

Stubb waved the apology away. “From what I hear, it was the Serpentina woman’s money. Besides, you probably figured I ate somewhere else.”

“I didn’t figure, Mr. Stubb. That’s what it was. My mind was otherwhere, thinking about old times.”

“We all do that, sir,” Stubb said. “And I wasn’t trying to put you down when I said I was hungry. See, I got a little money tonight—I was able to help somebody out. The diner where I usually eat was closed, so I went to the all-night grocery and got a frozen TV dinner. It’s in your electric oven now. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans. If you’d like to split it with me, you’re invited to.”

“No, no. I’ve had my dinner, thanks to Madame Serpentina and Mr. Barnes. Heat feels good, howsomever, and I wish you full enjoyment, Mr. Stubb. You’re welcome to my tea, if there’s any remaining.”

The old man began to back out of the room, but Stubb halted him with a gesture. “There was one other thing, sir. Curiosity, I said. Remember?”

“And what’s that, Mr. Stubb?”

“When I was getting dressed to go out, I heard some peculiar noises.”

“Old houses like this make such creakings,” Free said vaguely. “Stands to reason.”

“On windy nights they do, yes, sir. And just about any house will creak and groan when it cools down. But they hadn’t shut off the gas then, and I’ve been out twice tonight and haven’t noticed much wind either time, though it was windy earlier this afternoon. No, Mr. Free, I listened to those noises for a while and eventually I decided it was somebody walking on the roof above my head.”

The old man nodded, and crossing to the kitchen table where Stubb sat, pulled out a chair and sat down.

“It wasn’t Candy Garth, because I’d just left her. It wasn’t Barnes either. His room’s right across from mine, and all I had to do was stick my head out to hear his chair squeak and his pen scratch; he’d been in there writing something almost ever since you people ate. It could have been the Serpentina woman—her room was dark—but I didn’t think she was heavy enough. That left you, so I took a peek in your bedroom downstairs before I went out. You ought to learn to lock the door when you’re not in there.”

“I’m gone sometimes,” the old man explained softly. “Every blamed thing in there worth stealing has been taken long ago.”

“I’ve heard people talk like that before, but it was always before they got ripped off. Not afterward. Anyway, just as I was about to go out, a tile almost beaned me. I know it was a tile because I picked up a piece and had a look at it when I got to the grocery. I don’t think anybody was laying for me, because I hadn’t stepped through the doorway when it hit. Just the same, I was damn near killed, and I’d like to know what was going on.”

“You were correct about me,” the old man said. “I have no doubt it was my steps you heard. But you were wrong concerning Madame Serpentina. She was with me.”

“Ah,” Stubb said. He took off his glasses, breathed on them, and put them on again as if waiting to hear more.

“I’m sorry about that tile, I really am. Had no notion anybody might be down there that time of the night.”

“You dropped it then, sir?”

“I’m responsible,” the old man said. “You’ve got it. I was trying to show that girl something.”

“Show her what?”

“I don’t mean to get you riled, Mr. Stubb, but I don’t believe that’s your affair. Besides, that dinner of yours is about cooked. You’re lucky they haven’t shut off the electric yet. Better take her out now.”

Stubb glanced at his bare wrist. “I suppose you’re right, sir. I left my watch upstairs.”

“Hope you locked your room. Anyway, she’s done. I wind her.”

Stubb turned off the oven and carried the foil-covered tray to the table. “Sure you won’t have any?”

The old man shook his head.

“Mr. Free, what you were doing up there isn’t my business, I admit. But I’ll make it my business—if you want me to.”

“They’re going to tear this place down. I told you about that.”

“Uh-huh.” Stubb selected a drumstick and bit into it.

“They shut off my gas an hour ago. Tomorrow the electric will go off too, and the wreckers’ll come. I want you to help me hold out. I told you about that.”

“I know you did,” Stubb said. “I will.”

“If we can keep the walls standing, that’s all the help I need. If we can’t, nothing’s going to do me good.” Free paused. “Reckon to die, but old Ben Free don’t die without a fight.”

“You love this place.”

“Suppose I do. Should it shame me, Mr. Stubb?”

“Everyone’s got to love something.”

The old man nodded. “That’s so, I believe. I love this country, I suppose, or I used to. Loved a wife and daughter once. What do you love, Mr. Stubb?”

Stubb chewed and swallowed. “I don’t know. My work, maybe, when I can get it. I haven’t got a woman or a house.”

“You’re a detective, I think you said?”

“I’m an operative, sir. To be a private detective, I’d have to be licensed. As it is, licensed private investigators hire me to do the work they’ll bill their clients for. If you think of a doctor and the clerk who sells you the aspirin he tells you to take, you’ll about have the right idea.”

“I believe I’d be clearer thinking about a farmer and his hired man. The farmer, he owns the land. He says, ‘Time to plow for winter wheat,’ and the hand, he plows and sows. He takes his wages and the farmer takes the crop.”

“You’ve got it, sir.”

“Thought I had.” The old man pushed back his chair. “I’ll make you some tea to go with your dinner.”

“I’d be finished before you could get the water hot, Mr. Free. I’m all right.”

“I’ll get you a glass of water anyhow. I was a hand once myself.” Free chuckled. “A hand for a bunch of letters.”

Stubb nodded politely.

“Up in the High Country, that was.” The old man waved at the ceiling. “That’s where I come from to start with.”

“Uh huh. How’d you get here, Mr. Free?”

“Oh, by my own doing. Come here and many another place too. Nobody made me. I’ll let it run for a minute, so it’ll be cold.”

“Fine.”

“You’ll say I was a fool. Well, you’d be right, too.”

Stubb swallowed again. “I’ve done some pretty dumb things myself.”

“Adventure, that’s what I wanted. Save the world. I come up here looking for a new world, but in all them years I never caught the sight of it, and now I guess I wouldn’t hardly care to. Danger? Plenty of that, here and there. Love? I got some, but not enough to pay, if you catch my meaning. Pain, lonesomeness. Plenty of each. I’d like to go back, but it’s too late. I’m old.”

“A bus ticket doesn’t cost much, Mr. Free.”

“I have my ticket, Mr. Stubb. There won’t no bus take you there, but I have my ticket. I saved it and I’ll save it still, though it can’t do me any good. It’s still where I left it, there in the wall.”

“In a wall?”

Free nodded. “I was fearful I’d lose it, you see, and I hid it there. Listen to me, Mr. Stubb, and I’ll tell you what don’t many know. Most of them that went lost theirs. Some used them and went back. I’m the only one I ever got the smell of that didn’t do either. ‘Cept you could say I lost mine too, ’cause I can’t use it now.”

“I haven’t got the slightest idea what the hell this ticket is, sir,” Stubb said. “But if you want me to, I’ll try and help you find it.”

The old man sighed and put a glass of water on the table. “Maybe you could. If they don’t tear the place down, we’ll see.” He leaned on the back of his chair, supporting his weight on his arms.

“And if the Serpentina woman’s giving you some kind of trouble, I’ll do what I can to help you with that. All you have to do is ask.”

“She’s more like you than you think, Mr. Stubb. I believe she’d help too, in her way.”

“Serpentina’s a good name for her, if you ask me, sir. If she bit a rabbit, it would die. I know the type.” Stubb took a swallow of water and began to scrape up what remained of his mashed potatoes with his fork.

“Where I come from there was rabbits all over,” the old man said softly. “Bears too, and deer. Here, I’ve never seen a one. Or any other wild creature, ’cept maybe a pigeon or a rat. You people don’t know how poor you are.” He straightened up, squaring shoulders that were still wide. “The creatures are all gone now, Mr. Stubb, as I soon shall be. Murdered.”

Stubb leaped up. By the time he reached the door, the parlor beyond it was empty. So was Free’s bedroom.

Returning to the kitchen, he removed his glasses and produced an almost clean handkerchief. When he had wiped the lenses thoroughly, he took a notebook and an automatic pencil from his shirt pocket and, twisting his face in a laborious grimace, wrote something in an almost microscopic hand. That done, he scanned the earlier pages, tearing out some and wadding them into balls he dropped into the empty tray.

The task complete, he carried the tray and its load of paper and chicken bones to the garbage container. A mouse ran from behind it as he dropped the tray in. Stubb froze; the mouse stopped to contemplate him, sitting up like a little kangaroo. Slowly, Stubb fished out a penknife and opened a blade at each end. The second clicked as it sprang into place, and the mouse resumed its dash for safety. Stubb threw, but missed by a foot.

Outside, new snow sparkled under the stars. He kicked it to find the shards of tile, then turned up his collar and walked, occasionally halting to peer upward.

The woman behind the register looked up and smiled when he came in. “My best customer.”

“Right. Am I the only one tonight?”

“The only soul. Leastways, there hasn’t been nobody in since you was here last. Need somethin’ else?”

“Forgot to get a paper,” Stubb said.

“These’s yesterday’s now. You want to wait twenty minutes, the new ones’ll come.”

“Maybe.” Stubb picked up a paper.

“How ’bout some coffee? On the house.”

“Sure, it’s cold outside.”

“The company gives it to us so we can give it to the prowl-car mens. Havin’ them come in for it keeps the place from bein’ stuck up so much. We get to drink it ourselves and give it out, only we’re not supposed to make the first pot till after midnight. What you lookin’ for?”

“Story on the new freeway,” Stubb told her.