I knocked again.
Ill be damned. The door swung wide. Henrys blind eyes looked out on nothing. Let me take a deep breath.
He inhaled. I exhaled.
Holy Jesus, Henrys voice trembled like a candle flame in a soft breeze. Spearmint gum. You!
Me, Henry, I said gently.
His hands groped out. I seized both. Lord, son, you are welcome! He cried.
And he grabbed and gave me a hug, then realized what he had done and
pulled back. Sorry
No, Henry. Do it again.
And he gave me a second long hug.
Where you been, boy, oh, where you been, its been so long, and Henrys here in this damn big place they going to tear down soon.
He turned and wandered back to a chair and ordered his hands to find and examine two glasses. This as clean as I think it is?
I looked and nodded, then remembered and said, Yep.
Dont want to give you no germs, son. Lets see. Oh, yeah. He yanked a table drawer open and extracted a large bottle of the finest whiskey. You drink this?
With you, yes.
Thats what friendship is all about! He poured. He handed the glass to the empty air. Somehow my hand was there.
We waved our drinks at each other and tears spilled down his black cheeks.
I dont suppose you knew nigger blind men cry, did you? I know now, Henry.
Let me see. He leaned forward to feel my cheek. He tasted his finger. Salt water. Damn. Youre as easy as I am.
Always was.
Dont ever get over it, son. Where you been? Has life hurt you? How come youre here He stopped. Oh, ohl Trouble?
Yes and no.
Mostly yes? Its all right. I didnt figure, once you run free, youd be back soon. I mean, this aint the front end of the elephant is it?
Its not the back, either.
Near on to it. Henry laughed. Jesus, its good to hear your voice, son. I
always did think you smelled good. I mean, if innocence was ever put up in a pack, it was you, chewing two sticks of spearmint at a time. Youre not sittin. Sit. Let me tell you my worries, then you tell yours. They tore down the Venice pier, they tore up the Venice short-line train tracks, tear up everything. Next week, they rip up this tenement. Where do all the rats go? How do we abandon ship with no lifeboats?
You sure?
They got termites working overtime, below. Got dynamite squads on the roof, gophers and beavers gnawing in the walls, and a bunch of trumpeters learning Jericho, Jericho, practicing out in the alley to bring this tumbling down. Then where do we go? Not many of us left. With Fannie gone, Sam drunk to death, and Jimmy drowned in the bathtub, it was only a short haul before everyone felt put upon, nudged, you might say, by old man Death. Creeping melancholy is enough to clean out a rooming house in jig time. Let one sick mouse in, you might as well sign up for the plague.
Is it that bad, Henry?
Bad leaning into worse, but thats okay. Its time to move on, anyway. Every five years, just pack your toothbrush, buy new socks and git, thats what I always say. You got a place to put me, boy? I know, I know. Its all white out there. But, hell, I cant see, so whats the difference?
I got a spare room in my garage, where I type. Its yours!
God, Jesus, and the Holy Ghost coming up fast. Henry sank back in his chair, feeling his mouth. Is this a smile or is this a smile? Only for two days! he added, quickly. Got a sisters no-good husband driving from New Orleans to carry me home. So Ill get off your hands
He stopped smiling, and leaned forward. Armpits somewhere again? Out in that world? Not quite armpits, Henry. Something like.
Not too much like, I hope.
More, I said, after a beat. Can you come with me, right now? I hate to rush you, Henry. And Im sorry to take you out at night.
Why, son, Henry laughed gently, night and day are only rumors I heard once, as a child.
He stood, groped around.
Wait, he said, till I find my cane. So I can see.
Crumley and blind Henry and I arrived near the graveyard at midnight. I hesitated, staring at the gate.
Hes in there. I nodded toward the tombstones. The Beast ran there the other night. What do we do if we meet him?
I havent the faintest goddamn idea. Crumley stepped through the gate. Hell, said Henry. Why not?
And he left me behind in the night, on the empty sidewalk. I caught up with them.
Hold on, let me take a deep breath. Henry inhaled and let it out. Yep. Its a graveyard all right!
Does it worry you, Henry?
Hell, said Henry, dead folks aint nothing. Its live ones ruin my sleep. Want to know how I know this aint just a plain old garden? Gardens full of flower mixes, lots of smells. Graveyards? Mostly tuberoses. From funerals. Always hated funerals for that smell. Howm I doing, detective?
Swell, but Crumley moved us out of the light. If we stand here long enough, someonell think we need burying and do the job. Hup!
Crumley walked swiftly away among a thousand milk-white tombstones.
Beast, I thought, where are you?
I looked back at Crumleys car and suddenly it was a dear friend I was leaving a thousand miles back.
You havent told yet, said Henry. Whyd you bring a blind man to a graveyard? You need my nose?
You and the Baskerville Hound, Crumley said. This way.
Dont touch, said Henry. I got a dogs nose, but my pride is all cat. Watch out, Death.
And he led the way between the gravestones, tapping right and left, as if to dislodge big chunks of night or strike sparks where sparks never struck before.
Howm I doin? he whispered.
I stood with Henry among all the marbles with names and dates and the grass growing quietly between.
Henry sniffed.
I smell me one big hunk of rock. Now. What kind of Braille is this?
He transferred his cane to his left hand while his right hand trembled up to feel the chiseled name above the Grecian tomb door.
His fingers shook over the A and froze on the final T.
I know this name. Henry spun a Rolodex behind his white billiard-ball eyes. Would that be the great, long-gone proprietor of the studio across the wall?
Yes.
The loud man who sat in all the boardrooms and no room left? Fixed his own bottles, changed his own diapers, bought the sandbox, two and one half, fired the kindergarten teacher age three, sent ten boys to the nurse, age seven, chased girls at eight, caught em at nine, owned a parking lot at ten, and the studio on his twelfth birthday when his pa died and left him London, Rome, and Bombay? That the one?
Henry, I sighed, youre marvelous.
Makes me hard to live with, admitted Henry, quietly. Well.
He reached up to touch the name again and the date underneath. October 31st, 1934. Halloween! Twenty years gone. I wonder how it
feels, being dead that long. Hell. Lets ask! Anyone think to bring some tools?
A crowbar from the car, said Crumley.
Good Henry put out his hand. But for the helluvit His fingers touched the tomb door.
Holy Moses! he exclaimed.
The door drifted open on oiled hinges. Not rusted! Not squealing! Oiled! Sweet Jesus! Open house! Henry stood quickly back. You dont mind,
since you got the facultiesyou first.
I touched the door. It glided further into shadow. Here.
Crumley brushed past, switched on his flashlight, and stepped into midnight.
I followed.
Dont leave me out here, said Henry.
Crumley pointed, Shut the door. We dont want anyone seeing our flash I hesitated. I had seen too many films where the vault doors slammed
and people were trapped, yelling, forever. And if the Beast was out there now?
Christ! Here! Crumley shoved the door, leaving the merest quarter-inch crack for air. Now. He turned.
The room was empty, except for a large stone sarcophagus at its center. There was no lid. Inside the sarcophagus there should have been a coffin.
Hell! said Crumley.
We looked down. There was no coffin.
Dont tell! said Henry. Lemme put on my dark glasses helps me smell better! There!
And while we stared down, Henry bent, took a deep breath, thought about it behind his dark glasses, let it out, shook his head, and snuffed another draught. Then he beamed.
Shucks. Aint nothin there! Right? Right.
J. C. Arbuthnot, murmured Crumley, where are you? Not here, I said.
And never was, added Henry.
We glanced at him quickly. He nodded, mightily self-pleased. Nobody by that name or any other name, any time, ever here at all. If
there had been, Id get the scent, see? But not so much as one flake of dandruff, one toenail, one hair from one nostril. Not even a sniff of tuberose or incense. This place, friends, was never used by a dead person, not for an hour. If Im wrong, cut my nose off!
Ice water poured down my spine and out my shoes.
Christ, muttered Crumley, why would they build a tomb-house, put no one in, but pretend they did?
Maybe there never was a body, said Henry. What if Arbuthnot never died?
No, no, I said. The newspapers all over the world, the five thousand mourners. I was there. I saw the funeral car.
What did they do with the body then? Crumley said. And why? IThe tombhouse door slammed shut!
Henry, Crumley, and I shouted with the shock. I grabbed Henry, Crumley grabbed us both. The flashlight fell. Cursing, we bent and knocked heads, sucked breaths, waited to hear
