The Return(40)

He leaned toward Jim again. “I’m figurin’ he’s a salesman,” Jerrold shouted. “Maybe selling them women’s panties.”

I blinked, unsure whether to be offended, and suddenly remembered what Claude had told me.

“Tell him to talk to Claude,” Jim said with a wave. “I’m retired. I don’t need nothing from any salesman.”

“The hell you don’t,” Jerrold said to him. “You need a woman and one of them winning lotto tickets, if you ask me.”

“Huh?”

Jerrold leaned back in his seat with mirth in his eyes. “Women’s panties.” He cackled, clearly pleased with himself. “You sellin’ women’s panties?”

“No,” I said, “I’m not a salesman. I just wanted to speak with Jim.”

“About what?”

“About my grandfather,” I said. “And I brought Jim his lunch.”

“Then don’t just stand there.” He waved a bony hand at me. “Give it to him. Don’t be slow, now.”

I leaned down and handed Jim his lunch. As I did, Jerrold frowned, the grooves in his forehead so deep they could hold a pencil.

“Where’s my lunch?” Jerrold demanded.

I hadn’t expected the question but realized that I probably should have considered the idea they’d want to eat together. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. What would you like? I’d be happy to get you something.”

“Hmmmm,” Jerrold said, bringing a hand to his chin. “How about filet mignon with a lobster tail and lots of butter, with some of that rice pilaf?”

He’d pronounced it pea-laff.

“Do they serve that here?” I asked.

“Of course they don’t. You need to order it special, from one of them fancy places.”

I assumed he meant a different restaurant—a real restaurant—and I was caught off guard.

“Where would I order that?” I asked.

“What’s he saying?” Jim asked.

Jerrold leaned toward Jim again. “He’s saying he won’t buy me lunch,” Jerrold shouted. “And he says he’ll buy you a Cadillac if you’ll talk to him.”

I blinked, wondering how I’d lost control of the conversation. A Cadillac? Where did that come from? “I didn’t say that,” I protested. “And I’d be glad to get you anything the grill offers…”

Jerrold slapped his thigh, not letting me finish before suddenly locking eyes with me again. “Boy, you is dumb as dirt. A Cadillac! What on earth would he do with a Cadillac? He can barely drive as it is.” He shook his head, cackling. “A Cadillac!” he shouted to Jim.

Standing in place, I could think of nothing to say. Jerrold didn’t seem to need me to say anything; he was too happy with himself to care what I might be thinking. Jim, meanwhile, struck me as oblivious. I decided to seize the initiative.

“I was hoping to ask Jim about my grandfather, Carl Haverson.”

Jerrold reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag of snuff. After opening the package, he pinched a few of the leaves together before placing them between his lip and gum. His mouth made a few contortions and he settled back in the chair, looking like he had a tumorous growth in his jaw. “You’re telling me that you’re kin to Carl?”

“He was my grandfather,” I said again. “I’m trying to learn what he was doing in South Carolina. Claude said Jim and my grandfather were close and I was hoping he could answer some questions.”

“Might be hard,” Jerrold said. “Jim here, he don’t hear too well. And he wanders when he talks. Half the time, you don’t know what he means.”

I could say the same about you, I thought. “It’s important,” I said instead. “Maybe you can help?”

“Don’t know how.”

“Did you know my grandfather? Did you speak with him before he left?”

“Sure,” he drawled. “I got out here now and then and we’d talk. Not as much as Jim here, though. But then, one week, he wasn’t around, so it was just me and Jim. I was as surprised as anyone when I found out what happened to him. Carl was in good health as far as I knew.”

“How about the trip to South Carolina? Did you know anything about that?”

“He never mentioned anything about it to me.”

“Was he acting differently? Anything like that?”

Jerrold shook his head. “Not that I could tell.”

I rocked back on my heels, wondering if I was wasting my time. Surprising me, Jerrold slowly rose from the chair. He had to grip both arms and moving into the vertical position seemed both laborious and painful.

“You two go ahead and visit,” he said. “Maybe Jim knows something I don’t. He knew Carl better than I did. But talk loud, toward his right ear. It barely works, but don’t even bother trying with the left one.”

“You don’t have to leave,” I said.

“You’ll need my chair. He won’t admit it, but he needs to be able to see your lips moving so he can figure out what you’re saying. He’ll get about half of what you say, so just keep trying.”

“Where are you going?” Jim said.

“I’m hungry,” Jerrold shouted. “I want some food.”