The Man In Number 7 Page 3

  “I…was thinking I could wait a little more. I could clean the upstairs for you. Scrub the woodwork?”

  “Beautiful Apolline. I know you are scared. But we are here for you. You cannot stay in your room forever. Your daughter needs you to be there for her.”

  “I would not know where to look for a job,” Apolline wrapped her arms around herself, withdrawing into her safe shell. The idea of walking out the front door made her heart race with anxiety and her tiny palms sweat.

  “What sort of work can you do?” Petra put a cast iron skillet on the burner.

  “The only thing I know is waitressing. But who would watch Elizabeth?” Apolline sipped her coffee. Outside a chorus of lawn mowers began followed by the accompaniment of chirping birds.

  “Miren and Begone can watch the girl for now. They do not start back to school for a month or more.”

  “The teenagers in the house next door?”

  “Yes. We can check with Rosa about a job. If anyone knows anything, it is Rosa,” Petra chuckled as she tossed some chorizos in the pan. Apolline smiled at the sound and smell of sizzling spicy pork sausages. She was becoming an enormous fan of Basque cooking.

  “I like Rosa, she is so…mama hen-like. If my mama were still alive, I imagine she would be like Rosa,” Apolline smiled.

  “She will love you forever for saying that. But then Rosa loves everyone anyway. The kids call her a saint,” Petra leaned toward Apolline with one hand shielding the side of her mouth as if imparting a secret. “I call her a busy-body. Rosa loves gossip. She is the nosiest woman you will ever meet.” She straightened back up. “But she is a saint, though a woman truly born Basque tough, as my mother would say. She would rescue the world if she could.” Petra turned back around and flipped the sizzling sausages. The tang of garlic, cumin, oregano and thyme filled the room.

  Elizabeth bounced into the kitchen and into her mother’s lap. “Mama, I hungry,” the little girl said as she brushed the unruly hair out of her face.

  “Eggs and chorizos coming right up,” Petra smiled at Elizabeth. “How much did you grow last night? You look twice as big today,” Petra chuckled and pulled a plate out of the cupboard.

  “I am growing. I’m five and a half now,” Elizabeth boasted with her proud little chin in the air.

  Apolline wrapped her arms around her daughter and kissed her on the forehead. “And a very beautiful five and half you are.”

  “After breakfast, we are going to go pay a visit to Rosa.” Petra placed two plates of breakfast on the table, a large one in front of Apolline and a smaller one in front of Elizabeth. “Remember Rosa? The woman who lives on the corner?” Petra brought a third plate over and sat down with it.

  “The lady with the braided head,” Elizabeth struggled to cut her chorizo.

  “Here, let me do that for you, cher,” Apolline took her knife and fork and cut up the sausage on her daughter’s plate.

  Petra laughed after swallowing a bite of food. “Yes, the lady with the braided head.” She looked at Apolline. “If anyone knows the job market in this area, it is Rosa.”

  After chewing on a rather large bite of sausage, Elizabeth looked up at her mother. “But Mama, I don’t want a job. I want to go to the park.”

  “And so you shall. There is plenty of time for the park,” she looked to Petra with worried eyes.

  After breakfast, Apolline and Elizabeth waited at the bottom of the stairs while Domingo made his way down the narrow staircase. He smiled and nodded at Apolline, then kissed the tip of his index finger and touched it to Elizabeth’s nose. She giggled. Petra chattered to Domingo in Basque. He rolled his eyes as he swaggered into the kitchen.

  “Come, cher, we must get ready,” Apolline nudged her daughter up the stairs.

  “Ready for what, Mama?”

  “Get me ready to go find a job, and get you ready to go play in the park. Unless you would rather stay here all day?” At that, Elizabeth ran up the stairs and into their bedroom. Apolline let out a heavy sigh. She would rather stay here all day.

  “I want to ride the merry-go-round and swing,” Elizabeth giggled as she slipped out of her nightshirt and into a yellow and blue summer dress. The morning after their arrival in Boise, the ladies in the Basque block filled their arms with clothes and shoes, offering them to Apolline and her daughter. Now they had more clothes than ever before. This was more than a neighborhood. It was a family community.

  Apolline looked in the oval mirror that sat at the top of the dresser as she pulled on a pale mint-green summer blouse. The swelling was gone from her face. The bruises on her high cheek bones were starting to fade in color. More green and yellow instead of purple now.

  When they came downstairs, Miren and Begone, the two teenage sisters from next door, were waiting in the living room. “Come on little Lizzy, you are coming to the park with us,” Miren chirped as she picked the young girl up in her arms.

  “We should not be long,” Petra said as she brushed the hair out of her face. “We are going over to Rosa’s first.”

  Begone opened the door for Miren. “Nobody gets in and out of Rosa’s in a short amount of time.” The two sisters snickered and skipped out into the bright sun. Miren put Elizabeth down on the sidewalk and held one hand, while Begone held the girl’s other hand. Every other step they lifted Elizabeth up, swinging her forward as she squealed in delight.

  “Again!” Elizabeth cheered. “Again!”

  Apolline stood on the sidewalk watching the girls and her daughter walk away. Panic prickled the back of her neck, down her spine and into her chest.

  “Do not worry, she is in good hands,” Petra touched her arm.

  “But I do worry. A dark cloud follows us. And safety is a long ways off.”

  “He will not find you here,” Petra murmured.

  But it was more than that. More than Jules. Apolline felt a storm coming and danger waiting around every corner. She made her best attempt to smile at Petra as they turned the opposite direction and headed down to the house on the corner, where Rosa lived. The four houses between the corner and the alley were all identical. Two story stucco homes with basements, a small square covered porch and narrow yards. Rosa Ansotegui stepped out her front door with an area rug in her hands. She repeatedly slapped the rug against the short porch railing and coughed from the cloud of dust that emerged with each whack.

  “Rosa, we came to see if you could help,” Petra said as she and Apolline strolled up to the front step of Rosa’s home.

  Rolling up the rug, Rosa tucked it under her arm and waved the women into her home. “Of course, I will do whatever I can. Coffee?” The large woman with braids that crisscrossed back and forth across her head, stepped into the house. Apolline and Petra followed her in.

  Rosa dropped the rug on the floor behind them and lumbered into the kitchen to pour three cups of coffee. “How do you take your coffee, Apolline?”

  “Black for me, merci,” Apolline sat down at the small round wood table in the dining area beside the living room. Rosa and Petra sat down on either side of her. The walls of the small dining room were covered with a floral wallpaper and a large wooden crucifix hung in the center of the wall.

  “Apolline is in need of a job,” Petra poured some sugar into her cup and stirred.

  “What sort of work?” Rosa sipped the coffee that was as black as her eyes and hair.

  “I’m a waitress. A good one,” Apolline said, her voice full of hope.

  “I told her if anyone knows of an opening, it would be you,” Petra winked at Rosa.

  Rosa stared at Apolline for a moment and tilted her head. “Waitress, huh? I know of places to check.”

  “I told you,” Petra chuckled looking sideways at Apolline. “Rosa knows everything.”

  “It would have to be close, I do not have a car.”

  “You living with Petra and Domingo?” Rosa asked.

  “Yes, until I make enough money to get my own place. Job first, home second,” Apolline sighed.r />
  “Did you wear your walking shoes?” Rosa sipped her coffee. “We will check out the neighborhood. You know the boarding houses might need someone.”

  “Boarding houses?” Apolline tilted her head and raised an eyebrow.

  “They are mostly for the Basque, but they have a few employees there. It is a good place to start.” Rosa stood up and turned off the burner under the coffee pot. “Come ladies, it is a good day for a walk.”

  They strolled west on Broad Street past a few older homes. The house on the corner of 5th and Broad was a modest home with delicate lattice work on the eves surrounding a screened in porch dark with age. Rosa pointed at the house as they walked by. “You want to steer clear of that house, the young couple that lives there are not friendly at all.”

  “You mean they do not talk to you,” Petra said and winked at Apolline. “Rosa likes to know everything about everyone. If they do not talk to her, she does not like them.”

  “That is not true,” Rosa persisted. “I have talked some to the young lady there. Her husband works at the lumber mill and is out of town a lot. She does not talk to me much because I know what she does when he is away,” Rosa huffed. “Now old lady Tonka lives in this house,” Rosa continued to talk about who lived in each house as they walked across the street and turned right on 4th Street. She had a story to tell about each and every one.

  The morning air was fairly cool as a westerly breeze rustled the leaves. The three ladies strolled down Grove Street and talked with the people in two boarding houses, three small coffee shops and even the Lamppost fine-dining restaurant in the old Hotel Boise. But no one had a job opening at present. Apolline’s shoulders began to slump forward in disappointment.

  “It is lunch time and I am hungry, what about you?” Rosa rolled her shoulders back and smiled at Petra. “Have you eaten the chicken at Murray’s? It is almost as good as mine,” she laughed.

  “Down on 8th Street?” Petra asked.

  “That is the one. It is a good place to go next.”

  Murray’s diner sat on the corner of the block. One side of the building was a dine-in and the other was a drive-in. Girls in shorts zipped out to the cars on their roller skates to deliver hamburgers and malts. And the best broasted chicken in town, according to everyone but Rosa. A couple came out of the diner and the man held the door open for Rosa and the other two ladies to enter. They each smiled and gave him their thanks. It was cool inside, and the three ladies slid into a booth next to the wall.

  Apolline leaned close to Petra and whispered, “I have no money for food, Petra.”

  “Shush, do not give it a second thought,” Petra reassured her.

  Rosa waived over a young Mexican man to the table. “Carlos, is Steve in today?” Carlos, a busboy wore a white apron over his stiff-looking blue jeans and pale blue shirt.

  “Yes, Mrs. Ansotegui, would you like me to get him for you?” Carlos asked.

  “Yes, thank you,” Rosa adjusted herself on the red and white vinyl booth. After Carlos left she leaned forward and spoke in a lower voice to Apolline and Petra. “Carlos lives in the old apartment house on the corner of 5th and Myrtle. Remember the large old mansion I pointed out? Carlos is a nice young man, works here when he is not studying at the junior college across the river.” She leaned back and straightened the napkin in her lap.

  Steve Crump came out from the kitchen and wiped his dirty hands on a once-white apron. He was medium height and round as a barrel with a wicked brown comb-over on the top of his head. The middle-aged man pulled a chair away from a table and sat on it at the end of their booth. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Steve smiled at the ladies, baring his yellow crooked teeth. It made Apolline rub her tongue over her own teeth.

  “Steve Crump, this is a dear friend, Apolline. She is a qualified waitress looking for work. I do not suppose you know of any?” Rosa tilted her head toward the man and narrowed her eyes.

  “Are you good on roller skates?” Steve asked, peering into Apolline’s sable brown eyes.

  “No, I am okay, but not good,” she replied.

  “No worries, I can always use a good waitress in here. It’s shift work though, we’re open long hours,” Steve looked at Rosa and smiled as she gave him an approving nod.

  “I can work any hours. I am a hard worker, I…” Apolline said.

  “It’s okay, doll. If Rosa Ansotegui vouches for you, that’s all I need. Can you be here at six in the morning?”

  “Yes!” Apolline’s stomach fluttered with nervousness. She was conflicted with joy for having a job, yet scared of being found. And what would become of Elizabeth then? But Saint Rosa had pulled some strings and gotten her a job. She gulped and tried to pace her breathing. She had to believe it would be for the best. At least, that’s what she told herself.

  “Wear comfortable shoes.” Steve stood up and slid the chair back over to its rightful place. He nodded his chin to Rosa and smiled. “Ladies, enjoy.” He chatted with a few customers on his way back into the kitchen.

  “Excellent, that was taken care of even faster than I thought.” Rosa ran a hand along her braids, shoving a stray hair back into the tight weave. She turned and nodded to a waitress to come take their orders.

  “I’ll have the chicken lunch. In fact, we all will.” She turned to Apolline. “What do you want to drink, dear?”

  “Water is fine with me,” Apolline said in a soft voice.

  “Well I want a chocolate malt,” Petra blurted out. “That’s something I don’t get very often.”

  “Chocolate malts all around,” Rosa added. And the three of them laughed.

  Chapter 4

  Winnemucca, Nevada

  It was a Tuesday evening when Julien Gale Dubois stepped off the Greyhound bus in Winnemucca. He made a sour face and spit on the dirt at his feet. It smelled empty. No salty sea air, no spicy gumbo aromas, nothing. Just dust and dry desert air. It smelled of death to him. He didn’t like this place. Why would his brother move here? Intentionally! He threw his faded denim jacket over his shoulder and cantered up to the station window.

  “Where da best place ta get a bite ta eat ‘round here?” Jules asked the woman on the other side of the glass. Her brown hair was pulled tight in a bun on top of her head and her face looked pinched. She eyed him up and down with a confused look on her face.

  “You look familiar, don’t you work at…” The bus terminal clerk narrowed her eyes.

  “Yeah,” Jules played along in a sly tone, “yeah, ya’ll looks familiar too,” he let out a hollow laugh like the scattering of dry sagebrush.

  “You go on a trip?” the clerk asked.

  “Yes ‘um. I went home ta N’Orleans ta see some famly. Ya know, my famly mean a lot ta me. Say, where I seen ya’ll in town?” The corner of his mouth twitched in a slight sneer.

  The clerk rubbed her acne-ridden chin and raised an eyebrow. “Probably at the Ranch House. Isn’t that where you work?”

  Doing his typical little dance, he swayed back and forth and chuckled. “Dat’s it, dat’s where I seen ya. Da Ranch House.” Julien nodded at her and lit a cigarette as he strolled to the corner and looked to the small town city lights, and the Ranch House.

  He had a way of walking that looked more like he was skating on ice. Jules swayed into the dining room of the Ranch House Restaurant and took a seat at the counter. He pulled an ashtray close and flicked the end of his cigarette in it.

  “Where have you been?” a skinny waitress with dirty blond hair and bags under her eyes asked. “Boy, you gonna’ have some explaining to do. You want some coffee?” her bony fingers wrapped tight around the coffee pot handle.

  “Patti,” Julien read the name tag above her flat chest. “Yes on da coffee. What goin’ on?”

  She grabbed a cup, filled it, and slid it in front of him. Patti put the pot back on the burner, placed a hand on her hip and leaned over the counter to talk real close. “Bill’s pissed as hell. No word from you or Apolline for a week. You don’t answer you
r door, even though your truck sits right outside of your place. He said you was avoidin’ him and that made him more pissed.” Patti looked around then leaned even closer to his ear. “Where you been? Why haven’t either of you showed up for work or at least called?”

  “It be complicated,” Julien sipped the black coffee.

  “It better get uncomplicated if you want to keep your job here.” Patti stepped back and stared hard at Julien’s face. “You look like you been to hell and back. Even your voice sounds a little different, deeper, somehow. You ain’t sick are ya’?”

  Julien raised one eyebrow and rubbed his stubble-covered chin. “Tell Bill I show up fo’ work tomorra. What time I gotta’ be here?” he tried as much as possible to sound like his brother.

  “Six in the mornin’ as usual. You know your shift’s never changed. He needs you on the breakfast line. I’ll tell him, but that don’t mean he ain’t still gonna’ be pissed.” She glanced behind her, then back at Julien. “And where’s Apolline? We’re shorthanded as it is right now.”

  “Yeah, ma wife, see she…uh, not been feelin’ well. She be back soon.”

  Julien finished the coffee and tossed a dime on the counter. “Take care, cher. See you in the mornin’.” He lifted his jacket off the back of the chair and sashayed out the door and winked at two young ladies he passed on the way.

  Standing on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, Julien inhaled the dry air of the desert. He already missed the salt spray on the wind and the smell of the Gulf. But he had business to do. “Old truck,” Julien muttered under his breath as he strolled down the street. “He still got dat ol’ truck. Dat be easy ta find.” He lit a new cigarette and moseyed past a casino.

  Chapter 5

  Boise, Idaho

  First day of work on a new job was like a first date, only without the kiss. Apolline brushed her dark wavy hair and touched up her red lipstick. Stomach full of butterflies. Excitement. Hopefulness. She smoothed the skirt of her waitress uniform and trotted down the stairs. She let her nose lead her into the kitchen to the smell of sausage and biscuits. Petra swiftly assembled a breakfast sandwich at the kitchen counter.