Nonno rolled onto his side and spat a mouthful of muddy water. There was more mud in his nostrils. He smeared the black across his cheek. He opened his hand, a muddy paw, revealing the orange pearl within.
Ernie laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Nonno picked mud out of his nose.
Ernie put his hands around his belly. He imagined the old man’s nose cutting a furrow in the grass. A plow, with a woman behind, skirts billowing, dropped seeds into the furrow and folded the soil over with her toe. Ernie felt the tears rolling out of the corners of his eyes.
“What you laughin’ at?”
Ernie pointed at the shadow trail his grandfather’s body had painted in the silver tipped grass.
“I got the ball.” Nonno rose to his feet in stages. He looked toward Nonna sitting in the golf cart. “I know the boy needs me.”
“Okay.” Ernie rolled to his feet.
“I know, you say I’ve only got a little time left.” He stuffed the ball into the pocket of his trousers and bent to wipe his hands on the grass.
“What do you mean?” Ernie looked at his grandfather and then at Nonna. This is nuts, he thought.
Nonno’s eyes were deep in their sockets; a pair of brown buttons melted into waxy flesh. He stepped closer and Ernie felt the back of his grandfather’s hand on his cheek. The old man embraced him. Ernie caught the ever present scent of wine.
“She says I’m out of time.” Nonno nodded in the doll’s direction.
“Out of time?” Ernie fought his way out of the old man’s arms.
“That is the life.” Nonno shrugged.
Ernie looked at the doll. A breeze pushed strands of blond hair into her ever open eyes.
Nonno climbed in behind the steering wheel and patted Nonna’s knee. He smiled at her and turned to the boy. “Pick up your club.”
Ernie bent and gripped the driver. “How could she know what’s going to happen?” He slid the club into the bag at the back of the cart then perched on the rear bumper.
“One more hole and we’re finished,” Nonno said.
Ernie absorbed the acceleration with his arms and legs.
The cart’s motor whirred.
Nonno turned right.
“Hey!” Ernie leaned and held on.
Another cart slipped out of the bushes about five meters ahead. MARSHALL was written in red letters, low down, across the Plexiglas windscreen. The driver wore a white hard hat, white golf shirt and a cigar. Smoke puffed out the side of his mouth.
Nonno stamped his foot down on the accelerator. “Hold on, Ernie!”
The Marshall pulled the cigar out of his mouth. “Stop!”
Ernie’s knees absorbed another bump in the fairway. The clubs rattled and bounced. He looked over his left shoulder and saw the Marshall turning to follow.
“Hey!” the Marshall said.
“We’ll skip the last hole!” Nonno said.
“What the hell are you doing?” Ernie said.
Nonno glanced over his shoulder. “Always wanted to do this ever since he called me a stupid wop!” Nonno grinned as he took his left hand off the wheel to shake his fist. The cart veered right. Nonno straightened out and said to Nonna, “I’ve been waiting a long time to get even!”
Ernie looked over his shoulder as they climbed the fairway to the clubhouse at the ninth hole. The cart gradually lost speed. The Marshall was less than six meters behind. “He’s catching up to us!”
“What’s he gonna do, ban me from golfing for life?” Nonno roared with laughter and looked at Nonna. “Now, Ernie’s never gonna forget our last day together. Perfect!”
They skirted the ninth hole and accelerated along the paved path leading to the clubhouse. Nonno hit the brakes.
The Marshall pulled alongside. The tip of his cigar glowed. He swung his legs out of the cart to stand staring at Ernesto who walked around the front of his machine. The Marshall pulled the cigar from his mouth and said, “Only two golfers to a cart!”
“Grab the clubs, Ernie.” Nonno stepped between Nonna and the Marshall.
Ernie eased the bags out of their carriers.
“If you wanna golf on this course, you gotta obey the rules!” The Marshall pointed his cigar at Ernesto.
Nonno turned his back to the man, lifted the doll over his shoulder. A puff of wind lifted the doll’s dress revealing her perfect, naked backside.
“She’s a doll!” the Marshall said.
Nonno pulled the hem of the dress down over the backs of her knees. “Come on Ernie, we gotta go to the mall. Your grandmother needs underwear.”
CHAPTER 17
Lane backed off of the Chevrolet’s accelerator before turning right into Queen’s Park Cemetery. The shade trees on either side of the road took the edge off the morning’s heat. He pulled in and parked on the north side of the squat green and white Cemetery Office.
A grey/brown jackrabbit scooted out from under a parked car.
Closing his car door sounded a little too loud in the quiet. Lane felt the pace of life slow. He looked right at the white Customer Service Center with a Fresh Cut Flowers sign out front. Next to the sign sat a yellow City of Calgary tractor with a bucket up front and a backhoe behind.
Lane opened the door of the cemetery office. A stone bench squatted to the left of the door. Beyond the counter sat a man wearing a green ball cap. He reminded Lane of a Marlborough man.
“I’m looking for the grave of Helen Rapozo.” Lane leaned his elbows on the counter top.
“You know Ernesto?” The man behind the desk stroked his chin.
“Yes.”
“Police?” He pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
Lane looked down to check if the butt of his pistol was poking out from under his jacket.
“Saw you drive up.” He lifted the peak of his ball cap.
“It’s supposed to be unmarked.” Lane smiled.
“Police cars have a look. Hard to explain, but they definitely have a look.” He flipped open the cigarette pack and pulled out a red plastic lighter. “Name’s Ray in case you were wonderin’.” Ray’s chair creaked as he leaned back.
was his only option. “I’m investigating the disappearance of Robert Swatsky.”
“And you think he’s hiding out here?” Ray raised his arms to form a ‘V’.
“Haven’t found him any other place.” Lane smiled till he felt like he was in a toothpaste commercial.
“One thing’s for sure, he’s not anywhere close to Helen. There’s only one open plot near her. Ernesto reserved that one a long time ago.” Ray hesitated for a moment, then added, “What’s Ernesto got to do with this?”
“Swatsky is related to Ernesto’s grandson.”
Ray leaned forward, “And?”
“Look, I can’t tell you all the details.” Lane lifted his hands as if he were ready to surrender. Getting tough with Ray will get you nowhere, he thought. “I’m just checking out a lead.” Lane waited. An unwritten code meant city employees were obliged to help one another out.
“She’s in Section D Block 19.”
“There are thousands of graves here, how’d you know that one?”
“Helen’s special. Just about all of us like Ernesto. He worked here for a long time. He told us all about her. I never met her, yet I knew and liked her.”
“Family?”
“I can’t expect you to understand,” Ray said.
“Try me.”
“She died of cancer. Ernesto got a job here a few months after she was buried. A time or two, when he didn’t know I was close by, he’d lean on her gravestone and talk to her.”
Lane waited for Ray to fill up the silence.
“He kept flowers on her grave. A fresh batch every week, even in winter. Weeds never got a chance to take root anywhere near her. He still comes back two or three times a week to talk with us and check on her. And we keep an eye on her for him. It’s hard for anyone who doesn’t know Ernesto to understand.” Ray stood up, picked up his cigarettes and lighter, “Come on, I’ll show you where she is.” Outside, Lane stood and waited while Ray lit a smoke, took a long drag and stuffed the pack back into his shirt pocket. “You wanna drive or walk?”