Day 16
Their day began with a sunrise jog along the Battery. They went at half pace and for only a fraction of the distance of their runs from earlier in the trip, in essence doing just enough to keep the guilt at bay. When they got back to the house Connor took Joplin for her morning walk. It was still early and few of the other dogs were out. However, they did see the Walking Man pass on the far side of the street. Joplin sat and watched him recede into the distance, then resumed her stroll.
Teri met him at the front door wearing a bikini.
“How about we go to the beach?”
“Well, we are on vacation. Why not?”
“Then I’m going to run to the store and get a few things. Do you need anything?”
“Some breakfast.”
“Yeah, yeah. When you get out of the shower, try to find a cooler. I’m sure Pete has one around here somewhere. He has everything else.”
“I understand and accept my assignment.”
Teri ran upstairs and threw denim shorts and a tank top over her bikini, grabbed Connor’s keys and wallet from the dresser and skipped out the front door. Connor began the hunt for a cooler.
He was sitting on the front porch when she returned, a cup of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. Joplin sprawled out next to him. When she heard Teri’s voice she roused herself and slithered down the steps to meet her. Connor went to meet her also and took one of the shopping bags from her.
“I found this great little place on Meeting Street. Really good fresh bread, nice deli. And these are money.”
She reached into the bag and pulled out a pastry and held it out to him. His hands were full, so he took a big bite while she held it. Then she took a bite.
“Almond croissant,” she said. “Just wonderful. I ate two on the drive back. Did you have any luck?”
“I did.”
They went straight to the kitchen. Connor had actually found seven coolers of varying sizes and arrayed them on the floor in front of the table.
“Wow. Okay, let’s use these two. Put those back and then I’ll need your help.”
Connor began munching another croissant before he started his chore. When he returned she was cutting thin slices of french bread for sandwiches.
“Cut those oranges for me,” she nodded toward the fruit and a cutting board on the far end of the counter. “Two into wedges. They go in the ziplock for snacks. The others into ¼ inch slices and they go in there.” She pointed to the half-gallon sized drinking cooler Connor had found. She had washed it out and left it to drain on a paper towel by the sink. “Then cut up those peaches. In case you haven’t guessed, it’s sangria day.”
Meanwhile she made little sandwiches of prosciutto, fresh mozzarella and spinach with a drizzle of olive oil, a tomato salad with cheese and fresh basil and fruit salad of cantaloupe, strawberries and blueberries. She had everything finished and packed neatly in the cooler before Connor finished mangling the peaches.
“All right, slowpoke,” she said. “Why don’t you go get ready and I’ll finish this. My recipe’s kind of a secret anyway.”
“I keep tempting fate with this knife, my blood may be the secret ingredient.”
“You’re not exactly Wolfgang Puck, are you? Maybe we’ll have a little culinary 101 some day soon, at least get your knife work out of the danger zone. You’re liable to be cooking for one for quite a while.”
“Ouch.”
Connor went out and rummaged through the garage until he found two beach chairs and a frisbee. He carried them to the car, then went inside and packed the beach bag with towels and magazines. He changed into his swim trunks and pulled a pair of baggy shorts over them. When he returned to the kitchen Teri was dumping a bottle of wine into her sangria concoction.
“I’ve run out of things to do. I’m ready to go.”
“I’m almost there.”
“Oh, while you were out I called my guy.”
“Your guy?”
“With the Florida place. It’s empty and ours if we want it.”
“That must’ve been hard for you. Making that call.”
“You’d’ve been proud of me. I even hinted that I might go into business for myself.”
“And?”
“And he said he was, quote, always interested.”
“See, it might not be as scary as you think.”
“Maybe. Anyway, he’s gonna fedex the keys to us here.”
“Perfect.”
“He said we should watch the weather. Apparently there’s a little storm brewing, but it’s supposed to head toward Bermuda.”
“That’ll be good. We’ll make our way down there, spend a few days, then I think we should start heading home.”
“We don’t have to go any farther. If you want to turn around.”
“No, I don’t. But by then we’ll have been gone close to three weeks and I don’t want to run out of money. I think we both will still have bills to pay when we get home.”
“There’s really no need to bring that up.”
“I know. Let me run upstairs and we’ll get going.”
Driving back from the beach, a little tight from the sangria and from the sun, Connor had the music up loud and they were signing along to Journey’s “Faithfully.” Just as they turned onto Broad Street, he reached over and tapped Teri on the thigh. He pointed back over his shoulder. “There he is again,” he said.
Walking Man was striding down the sidewalk in his usual head down posture, the backpack slung over his shoulder.
“He sure gets around.”
“But what’s he up to?”
“About eight miles a day, looks like. Why are you so curious about him?”
“I have no idea. Seems like there is something going on.”
“Like he’s homeless, or nearly so, and spends his days wandering around?”
“Like he wants to appear homeless.”
“Why would anyone want to appear homeless?”
“My point exactly.”
“Let’s just get home, can we please? Nature’s calling and I want to take a nap.”
“A nap? Since when?”
“Since the beach made me tired.”
“And grumpy.”
“No, that was you.”
When they got home, Connor tried to settle down. He showered, made a drink and went outside to sit with Joplin. Between the ceiling fan and the breeze coming off the harbor it was a pleasant afternoon. However, even for an afternoon in the middle of the week, the neighborhood was quiet. He waited for someone to walk down the street so that he could at least wave to them. He was bored and he knew not what to do about it. He tried to rouse Joplin, but she just rolled over and invited him to scratch her belly. So he did. Then he was bored again. He considered waking Teri but feared the consequences. He considered going for a run but he was drinking. Then he got the bright idea to find and confront Walking Man. He tossed back his drink, went inside for flip flops and keys and, buoyed by an invigorating sense of purpose, bounded down the steps to his car.
The search began with a troll along the Battery, the most consistent sighting location for Walking Man sightings. When it became clear that he would not be so lucky as to immediately stumble upon him, Connor backtracked to the section of Broad Street where they had seen him on their return from the beach. From there he drove the north-south streets between Broad and Market and worked his way toward East Bay. Halfway down King Street he spied him coming out of the Library Society building but they were heading in opposite directions. So Connor raced to the end of the block and circled back. He trailed him at a safe distance until they reached Queen. At the stoplight he tapped the horn, but got no acknowledgement.
“Hey,” he shouted. “Hop in. I’ll give you a ride.”
No response.
“Come on, I know you hear me. Get in.”
Walking Man slowly cocked his head toward the car.
“I don’t want a ride. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Me neither. But get in anyway. Come on, man, I’m holding up traffic here. Look, I want to know about the dog.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. Get in. Take a load off. You’ll do plenty of walking tomorrow to make up for it.” He pushed the passenger door open.
At that Walking Man laughed and approached the car. He threw his backpack into the floorboard and eased into the seat. As soon as he reached for the door, Connor hit the gas and the car lurched forward. Just as he did so, a series of horns chimed from behind them. Walking Man fumbled for the seatbelt and gave Connor the eye.
“Sorry. The natives were getting restless.”
“If you’d just mind your business. . . .”
“So, I know you recognize me from the dog walks in the morning. My friend and I are staying at Pete’s place for a few days while he’s out of town. That’s why we’ve been walking Joplin.”
Connor paused but elicited no response.
“And it’s obvious, even to me, that the dog has some attachment to you. Given your appearance, you know what I mean, questions naturally arise. For some reason that I can’t explain I want an answer to the question.”
Still nothing. He was staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched, his eyes unblinking. Connor kept one eye on him and one eye on the road. They were only a few blocks from the house, and even though Connor’s frustration was increasing by the block he never thought to abort this strange and impromptu mission.
“Okay,” he said. “We’re playing hardball.”
He accelerated and raced into the neighborhood. He was meticulously reckless, racing around corners and running stop signs, until to jerked to a stop in front of Pete’s house. As he expected, Joplin was laying on the front stoop. She perked right up when the car came to stop out front.
“I think you probably know that if you don’t get out she’ll come here and find you. So you might as well come in. Meet my friend Teri. She’s the good one.”