The Birthing House

'Knock yourself out.'

Conrad went to the kitchen. 'Grum residence.'

'Yeah, where's Nadia?' The guy on the other end sounded startled, out of breath. His was the panting of a wired, anxious little man.

'Who's calling?'

Nadia padded in and poured orange juice. The carton said NO PULP! 50% More Calcium!

'I said who's calling, please?'

'Chuh!' The spitting sound of incredulity. 'Who's this, the neighbor guy?'

'My name is Conrad.'

'Where is she?'

'If you tell me who's calling, I'll see if she's home.'

'Eddie. I know she's there.'

'Okay, Eddie, please hold.'

Conrad held the phone out. Nadia shook her head slowly.

Conrad experienced a ridiculous, eleventh-grade thrill. 'I'm sorry, Eddie, she is unavailable. Can I take a message?'

'She won't talk to me?'

'She's not available, Eddie. Would you like me to tell her you called, or is there some other message?'

Eddie breathed into the phone. 'Are you f-f-fucking her now?'

Conrad resisted the urge to laugh. The boy's emotionally induced stutter induced pity and he did not want to be cruel. Well, not in front of her.

'You know, Eddie, I realize at your age that must be the most important thing in the world. But girls don't like it when boys talk out of school. So what do you say, guy, think you can rise above it?'

Nadia frowned and Conrad made a 'chill, it's under control' wave of his hand.

'Oh, you f-f-fucker,' Eddie moaned. 'Y-y-you are! And if you aren't, you're t-t-tryin' to! You f-f-fuckin' asshole!'

Something banged in the background and Conrad pulled the phone away from his ear. 'Hey, hey. That kind of language is uncalled for. Now it's none of my business, Eddie, but if you two aren't exactly best friends these days, this temper of yours might be part of the problem, you know what I'm sayin'? If she wants to talk with you, she'll call. Personally, I'll advise her not to, but she's a big girl. She can make up her own mind.'

Eddie's breathing filled the line before he cranked up again. 'PUT NADIA ON THE PHONE, YOU MOTHERFUCKER! ' Sans stutter. 'I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU IF YOU DON'T PUT HER ON THE PHONE!'

Nadia reached for the phone, but Conrad waved her off. He wanted to own this little shit now. Reach through the phone and break his skinny red neck.

A repeated banging sound on Eddie's side.

'Eddie?' Conrad said. 'You want to stop pounding your fist into your trailer wall for a minute?' The pounding stopped. 'You're taking out your frustrations on your wall because it's that cheap wood paneling they put in doublewides like yours. That's right, I know where you live. You make a threat like that, normally it's none of my business. But the Grums hired me to watch out for their things while they're away and Nadia happens to be one of those things. So for a few more days, guess what, it is my business.'

'Asshole, asshole, asshole--'

'Now I want to give you a piece of advice. Are you listening? Eddie, are you listening?'

'Yes!'

'Good. Now, when you make a threat. The first thing you have to do is stay calm. Because when you sound like a hysterical little bitch, no one takes you seriously. The person you're yelling at thinks, no, this guy sounds like a girl, he's just blowing off steam, he ain't gonna do anything. Are you with me, Eddie?'

'Yes.'

'Rule number two. Make sure you know something about the person you're threatening. This is very important because the last thing you want to do is make a threat you can't deliver on. Now, I haven't exactly kept my fighting weight over the years, but I'm capable, Eddie. Last asshole who threatened me, in front of my wife? Well, I plumb went sideways, Eddie. Put his head through a window at Ruth's Chris in Westwood. Paramedics had to pull glass out of his neck. Why do you think I had to leave LA? The stress, Eddie.'

This was fiction, of course. But it seemed to be working. Eddie was silent. Nadia watched him with her arms crossed.

'B-b-bullshit.'

'Now see, you just skipped ahead to rule number three, Eddie. You gave yourself away by hesitating. And you never hesitate when you make a threat. It's too late - the other guy knows he's got you.'

'You can't threaten me! I'll call the cops!'

'Yes, you call the cops, Eddie. File a report if you like. Do whatever makes you feel like a man, Eddie, so long as you stay away from Nadia. Because here's what will happen. Are you listening? If you come around here again, if you drive by and maybe decide to poke your nose into the Grums' house or make any more threatening phone calls or do anything other than mind your own sad business, I will come to your house and I will beat you silly with a cinder block. I'll drop it on your chest, Eddie. I will leave you bleeding and alone, unable to jerk off with your two broken arms. Now, is that what you want?'

Eddie was crying. It couldn't be from this speech, either. There was a lot more behind it. Most likely a broken heart. Conrad's stomach lurched.

'Let me know you understand what I'm telling you, Eddie.'

'C-C-Can I please! S-S-s-speak with Nadia?'

Unbelievable. The kid had crossed over from stupid to pathetic and brought stupid with him along the way.

'Eddie, give it up. The girl is gone. Gone gone gone. Now please, for everyone's sake, go away.'

'She's a whore! Tell the whore that the father of her--'

Nadia reached for the phone and Conrad clicked off.

'Sorry, he had to go.'

She yanked the phone away. 'Asshole!'

'What? Are you telling me you still like this creep?'

'You don't know him!'

'What's to know?'

She stormed upstairs. Conrad stood in the kitchen and finished his coffee, staring at the IN USE light on the phone's cradle. The light was off. Unless she was using a cell, she did not call Eddie back.

Time to go. He'd done enough work for one day.

He went to Dick's and bought some groceries. More iced tea and one of those sun tea bottles to brew it on the deck. He paused in front of the newsstand and flipped through baby magazines. Threw three in the cart for Nadia. He paid for his groceries and drove around front to wait for them to be loaded - they had a number system and you just sat there while the kid in the apron filled your trunk. No tips allowed.

The front door was unlocked. He made a mental note to start locking it. He was halfway to the kitchen when he noticed the blood and shattered glass on the floor. The frames were broken, three of Jo's matching mirrors from the front living room destroyed. Leading out of the glass shards, the paw prints.

When had he last seen the dogs? Had he fed them this morning? He could not remember.

'Alice! Luther!'

He ran yelling their names as he searched the house, at once hoping and fearing that the perpetrator was still in the house.

25

His dogs were bleeding, and had been bleeding for some time judging by the paw prints and smudges and stripes of blood on the floors, walls and couch. He ran calling their names into the dining room and made a U-turn into the front parlor. The TV room. The kitchen.

No dogs.

Conrad's pulse went off the chart. If something has happened to my dogs, he thought, if someone hurt my first and only real babies, I will simply run amok.

He'd hung the mirrors high on the walls. No way the dogs jumped up and dragged them down - and why would they? Someone was here, broke them, and left the dogs to cut themselves. Or worse. Someone - Eddie! That little fucking shit, Eddie! - broke in and went fucking nuts and maybe there was a struggle. Maybe the dogs attacked him and he had pulled the mirrors down, scaring them before--

When he had checked the entire first floor, he circled back to the front stairway.

'Alice, Luther! Daddy's home!'