Weed

  Chapter 35

  Ah arrived in Atlanta on an early flight, rented a car and spent the mornin' readin' the reports at the police station. They was kind enough to give me a desk. Seems this Werner Oerschott was some kinda cousin of our Hans von Oerschott. He dropped the von a while back.

  In the afternoon Ah drove by 1417 Brille Drive. A run down house in a run down neighbourhood. Talked to the neighbours. They jest heard screams and phoned the police. Too noisy, they said. Ah figured Oerschott was screamin' 'cause of the Dermafix. Police photos showed the stuff hangin' off the tub. Ah figure he was tryin to wash it off, got scared, startin' in screamin'.

  Ah drove to the morgue and saw the body: jest like Hans von Oerschott. Ah figured he might escape, jest like Hans, but they assured me thet he was real dead.

  By six Ah figured Ah had all the info Ah could git. Why'd Ah come to Atlanta? Coulda got all the information through official channels, jest like Ah told Miss Fleetsmith. Ah looked at mah watch. Ah was gettin' mighty hungry. Mebbe Ah'll jest wait awhile afore eatin'. Two hours till eight. Kin Ah wait till then? Miss Leslie. Mebbe she don't eat till late. Mebbe we kin git us somethin' 'n' eat together. She's dog tired, workin' all day, eats alone as usual. She'd like the company. She'd smile. "Why Mister Boone, how nice. Y'all brought something to eat. But first let me change into something more comfortable." She trots off, comes back in somethin' yuh kin see right through. "Hungry?" she says. "What would y'all like to eat first? Me?"

  Ah kin see it all now. Now Ah knows why Ah came to Atlanta.

  At eight Ah gits to Miss Leslie's: a big old apartment building right in the middle o' town. Parkin' is round the back so Ah leaves the car there, takes the box o' goodies and bottle, heads fer the front. Inside, they's a list o' names on the wall and JEFFREY is there. Ah ring.

  A voice says, "Mr. Boone, is that you?" Jest as sweet as buttermilk and honey.

  "Yes ma'am," Ah says.

  "Please come up. Apartment 301."

  The door buzzes and Ah push through with mah backside, mah hands full o' victuals. When Ah gits to the third floor the elevator door opens and they's a fat gal standin' there, waitin' to git in. She takes up the entire width of the elevator opening. Ah 'scuses mahself, pushes by and heads down the hall.

  "Mr. Boone?"

  Ah stops, looks round and sees this fat gal grinnin' at me.

  "Mr. Boone," she says ag'in.

  "Leslie?" Ah says. "Ms. Leslie Jeffreys?"

  "You got it," she says.

  Ah got it but Ah don't want it. Ah look round to see if'n they's a place Ah kin dump the box and bottle.

  "What's this?" she says, touchin' the bottle. "Looks like red wine. How nice." She takes me by the arm and drags me to an open door. Ah hangs back a bit and she goes into the apartment, into the light. She's short as a sow, thick as a log, round as a pumpkin, with jeans and heavy sweater thet's stretched past critical, lumps 'n' bumps, rolls 'n'—

  "Please have a seat. Can I call you William?" she says, pointin' to a sofa.

  Ah slides on, holdin' the victuals on mah knees and she slides 'longside.

  "Now, William," she says, "what did you have in mind?"

  Mah mind was a blank. "Well, ma'am , Ah thought mebbe—"

  "And what do you have there?" she says, puttin' her hand on the bottle. Ah clap mah knees together and the bottle rolls and she grabs fer it, slippin her fingers between mah legs. "Oh," she says, "careful. It could break and we wouldn't want that, would we?"

  "Break?" Ah says. "No ma'am, won't do thet." Ah gathers the box 'n' bottle and heaves to, gettin' outta the couch. "Haven't had no dinner. Jest thought y'all might like to eat—"

  "I always like to eat," she says and Ah believes her. She leans outta the couch, reachin' fer the bottle. "That was very thoughtful of you." She takes the stuff from between mah legs and waddles to the other room. She's gonna change into somethin' comfortable, somethin' yuh kin see right through. Ah looks to the door, to escape.

  "I'm ready!" she calls. "Come and get it!"

  Ah kin hardly git mah breath. Ah head fer the kitchen. When Ah gits to there she's already eatin'. Somehow, mah hunger's gone.

  Miss Leslie ate most of the steaks-on-a-bun and drank most of the wine. Ah jest watched. Then she says, "Maybe we should get down to business." Ah could feel mah heart sink.

  "Business?" Ah says. "What'd y'all have in mind?"

  "Didn't you come to ask about Werner Oerschott?"

  "Oh, yes ma'am, but Ah spent the day investigatin', right here in Atlanta. Ah thinks mebbe Ah got all mah questions answered."

  She takes a swig right outta the bottle. "Let's go into the other room. More comfortable. You can tell me about the Canadian cases." She gits up from the table, stares once at the bottle then puts it under her armpit, sorta swingin' it up and under like she’s done this before. "Follow me," she says and heads fer the other room. She sets on the couch, puts a chubby hand beside her. "Shit," she says, then giggles, then says, "'scuse me. I mean sit." Ah looks 'bout but they ain't no other chairs, so Ah sets beside her.

  "Now, give it to me straight," she says.

  "Beg pardon, ma'am?" Now Ah's gittin' scared.

  She giggles. "The cases in Canada, silly," she says.

  So Ah starts right in tellin' her 'bout Hans von Oerschott, Betty Hansen, Gary Felman, Roy McIvar, the Dermafix affliction, Ms Fleetsmith's theories, changes in the genes. She jest listens, suckin' on the bottle which seems like it's stuck in her jaw.

  "Love jeans," she says, then giggles ag'in.

  "Genes, ma'am," Ah says.

  They ain't no more to say, so Ah was about to git up 'n' leave. She's starin' into the empty bottle, sad. When she sees me gittin' up she grabs my pants and pulls me down.

  "Shtay," she says, leanin' ag'in my shoulder. "Been a hard day," she says. "You undershtand. Police work. Hard." She raises the empty bottle, places it ag'in my chest. "Dead shoulder," she giggles. She lets it drop and Ah snap mah knees together but it's too late. She's got her hands in between, gropin'. She giggles. "Hard," she says ag'in. Ah don't hardly think so. Then she pushes herself up, rollin' to her feet.

  "Wait here," she says. "I'm gonna change into something comfortable."

  Jeesuz! That's what Ah bin dreadin'. When she leaves Ah, quick as a roadrunner, heads fer the door, runnin' all the way to mah car. Ah kin see her in mah mind's eye, comin' back to the couch: a turnip, in tissue paper.

  When Ah gits to mah hotel they's a message in the box.

  It's short. It says: So sorry. It was signed: Leslie.

  PART THIRTEEN