Let me guess. You’re a Pez-head designer. No, a sign spinner for discount plastic surgeons. I could use one of those by the way.”
He knew better than to acknowledge her cosmetic surgery remark. Honest answers to conversations beginning with “Am I pretty enough?” and “I’m thinking of getting work done” had never gone well with Georgia. “I’m a fraud investigator.” There was a more complicated title, and his job went beyond the scope of that, but this answer usually earned him a less puzzled reaction. “It’s no big deal.”
“Like a cop?”
“Sort of. More like a private eye. Loss prevention, things like that.”
“It sounds very important, Harry. You must be very brilliant.”
The door opened, and some people stepped outside. Harold turned toward the noise, glad she didn’t see his face. He was surprised at his own reaction to her praise. Ruddy complexions were like skywriting, a girl in high school had told him once. The message may appear slowly, but everyone can see it for miles around and remember it for days. “I have to get back to work.” He gathered up his trash and headed for the can. When he turned around, Pepper was standing close, nose to his chin. “Tell Glenda hello.” Before he could go, she grabbed his arm.
“Harry, I really mean it. I am glad I saw…what I saw. Where did you get it again? Could I get one like it, or is that a one-of-a-kind thing?”
He told her about the encounter in the park with the homeless man. “It’s a mystery why he picked me.” He pictured the day of the handoff, the police hurrying the old guy away before he could explain himself. The police responding to his own complaint about the vagrants camping out. She was the first person he shared this with.
“You have been given much responsibility in many areas.” With that, she stood on tiptoe and pecked him on the cheek. “You have been given a gift. Thank you for sharing your magical looking-piece with me.”
“Um. You’re welcome. And thanks.” He demurred, dropping his hand from her grip. “But I don’t believe in magic.”
“A man of science and numbers, I get it.” She tipped her head sideways, considering him. “The mysteries of the universe reveal more than we see with our eyes or hear with our ears. If we slow down and really absorb what it’s trying to teach us, we might be surprised and delighted.” She poked a slender finger at his chest. “I choose to keep my mind open to the possibilities. What about you, Harry?”
****
The next morning, Harold defied tradition and passed the coffee cart in the park without stopping, eliciting a surprised glance from Morrie. He stepped around a mud puddle, then cut a beeline for the oak tree. Harold was done with whatever game this guy was playing with him. He had lost sleep and fallen behind on work. He had to know more about it, and why he was supposed to be in charge of its powers. Or curse. Whatever it held. It was time to get rid of the thing so he could concentrate on preparing for the interview.
He stopped short. The ground beneath the oak tree was raked clean, no bodies lined up swaddled in hills and valleys of cast-off blankets. Even their hijacked market carts weren’t around. A police chopper whumped the sky, crisscrossing the park’s valley set in the midst of the high rise buildings.
“They’re gone,” Morrie told Harold when he wandered over, confused what to do next. “Remember, they were carted off?”
“Where did they go?”
“I heard they were taken downtown. St. Bartholomew’s has some rooms.” Morrie pulled back the handle to fill a cup. “Local church only offers free meals. Besides, it’s going to be torn down.”
“Where is St. Bart’s?”
“Heck if I know.” Morrie accepted Harold’s coins and studied his face. “Why?”
It would take two bus rides for Harold to get all the way downtown, or he could splurge on a cab. He’d had little trouble adjusting to the pedestrian lifestyle when