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"I think we'll all miss him in here, Laila," he said, "and I know you will, too. You and everybody working here treated him like a human being." He smiled and paid his tab.
Then I heard Ronald Larch’s voice again. "Hey, Jacob, you won't let any other hobos sleep on your doorstep again, will you? It's really not good for business. Anyone's business." He was losing his audience but apparently still had more to say on the subject. I wondered what he did for a living.
Just then, Walter Schubert and his lady friend walked past Larch's table on his way to the register. "Say, Ronald," Walter said, "didn’t you know John personal
ly? I could have sworn you did."
Walter apparently didn’t ask the question to get an answer. He winked at me after saying that, and then paid his check.
Larch scowled deeply, but once again had no response. He turned his face toward the window and pretended to study the activity on the street. The back of his neck was as red as fire. The man who had enjoyed an espresso with him stood up to leave, and the look he threw at Larch bordered on disgust.
I started to ask Walter what he'd meant by that remark to Larch, but he placed his finger on his lips and shook his head no. "See you again soon, Laila," he said, and he and the woman with him turned to go. Walter stepped back and opened the door for her, and then they were gone.
Chapter Four
After my shift, I clocked out and drove home. Thor bounded to the door as soon as I inserted my house key, and I thought once again about how lucky I was to get a homecoming like that.
The Doberman was more than ready to play ball. I changed into jeans and a t-shirt and we went to the back yard, where first he raced back and forth on his own for a while and then tried to take the worn-out yellow tennis ball out of my hand. I threw the ball, and he would race to get it and happily bring it back to me so I could throw it again.
The idea crossed my mind that Thor was so happy to see me because he wanted to play, and not so much because he was glad to see me personally – but I still hoped that at least a little of that enthusiasm was really for me.
Once back inside, Thor waited expectantly while I filled his food dish. I rinsed out and refilled his water bowl, and with the dog taken care of, I opened my refrigerator door to see about something for me to eat.
Nothing jumped out at me fully prepared. I ended up pulling out some slightly wilted lettuce along with a tomato and half a cucumber to make a salad. I discovered leftover tomato soup and decided that soup, salad and a few crackers would do it.
Then I remembered the chocolate scones I'd brought home from Roasted Love the other day. Oh, yeah. Dinner was complete.
While I ate my soup and salad, I found my thoughts wandering back to John.
I remembered hearing Walter say that some time ago, he had tried to help John but that John had disappeared for a while soon after that. And that had been before John started sleeping at night outside of Roasted Love.
I was curious about where he would have gone. Since he had a brother, he may have stayed someplace with him – assuming this was before Steven had been sent to prison. It seemed highly unlikely that John had a family home to go back to. Or, even if there was one, he may not have been welcome there.
Then I gradually became aware that my cell phone was ringing. I pulled it out of my jeans pocket and answered it.
"Laila," said Daniel, "I was told by Leo Swenson that the autopsy report on John should be back soon. Have you found out what his last name was?"
I swallowed a quick spoonful of tomato soup. "Not yet, but I haven’t had much time to look into it. But yeah, I’m pretty curious about his name and about his life in general. He didn’t strike me as someone who'd lived on the streets for a long time – I don't think it was more than a few years at the most. And I know he said he'd gone to college for a while."
"It’s too bad people end up like he did," said Daniel. There was something in his tone that said he could have easily dismissed the situation if I hadn’t asked for the autopsy report. But in his line of work, I guess, you have to sort of harden yourself to the things you see every day.
"Do you get a lot of calls to treat people on drugs?" I asked him.
He sighed. "More than I can count," he said. "Resuscitating drug users is pretty common. We see it in bars, streets, motel rooms, and even homes. Emergency rooms get their fair share, too."
"Are you ever called to resuscitate people who live on the streets?"
Daniel hesitated. "We are, Laila, but in most of those cases the person is already dead before we even get the call. There isn't usually anyone around who can dial 9-1-1 before it's too late."
I had another question for him. "Do you ever know their names? I mean, the names of the ones who are homeless."
He paused. "My job is to keep them alive, Laila, if I can. Once in a while I know their names, but you know that I can't tell you – or anyone – who these people are. Besides, most of those calls are from a seedy part of West River. And knowing you, you'd go right down there to see if any of them knew John."
"Oh, I have other ways of finding out John’s last name. That’s all I want to do." I paused. "I wonder where he'll be buried."
There was no way I'd tell Daniel that he was right. If it meant going to the bad part of town to find out more about John's death, I would do that. Though I had to admit that I had no idea where the seedy area Daniel talked about was located.
I was aware of some older areas on the far side of West River, New York, but they were neighborhoods where the working poor lived. Children and families could be seen socializing with one another. People sat on the front porches of homes that they cared for as best they could. Daniel and I drove through that area whenever we went into New York City. We both enjoyed the theatre and had seen several Broadway shows in the past.
