Blues and Trouble by Tom Piazza

Author:Tom Piazza
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: University Press of Mississippi
Published: 2022-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

It took twenty minutes after the Tappan Zee to find the place of the delivery, a boarding school just outside of Nyack. Kiezlow said nothing the whole way, and Schneider felt completely adrift. The town itself, which they passed through, was pretty and contained, and it reminded Schneider, pleasantly, of college. He admired the little shops and luncheonettes and cafés, as the truck shouldered its way through the narrow, dappled streets. They passed a stationery store, called Bogart’s, with a long window full of black cat and witch cutouts. He wanted things to be okay again.

“Everything is Halloween up here,” he said, hoping to break the ice.

“What’s the name on the order form, at the school?” Kiezlow replied, pointing to an envelope on the dashboard.

Schneider looked at it and said, “Mrs. Ziebarth.” Kiezlow was not going to let go, Schneider thought. He wished he could erase it and just enjoy being out of the city. But if Kiezlow was going to be that way, he thought, there was nothing he could do. He felt himself sliding deeper into gloom.

They found the school, a small compound five minutes outside of town. Kiezlow pulled the truck over, swung himself down from the cab, slammed the door and started for the main building almost in one motion, holding the order papers in his hand. Schneider, slower getting out, followed. The grounds were very quiet.

The school’s main building was two stories high and looked to Schneider to have been built in the 1950s. They entered through the industrial blue doors at the end of one of the building’s three wings, which formed a giant T on the grounds. The hallway they entered was darkened; its glazed cinderblock walls reflected pale light from the open doors of empty classrooms. Kiezlow strode purposefully down the hall, and Schneider hurried to catch up, saying, “Where are we going?”

“We’re going to find the office.”

“Maybe we should ask somebody.”

“Do you see anyone to ask?”

The hallway ended in a T, and Kiezlow turned right, leading the way. This hall opened out shortly into a wide lobby with polished terrazzo floors, well lit by the sunlight from outside. They found the office, opposite broad doors that opened into an auditorium, walked in, and stood at a waist-high reception desk.

“Where is everybody?” Schneider asked.

A short woman with gray hair stepped tentatively out from a door that led to another room; her expression was perplexed, quizzical. “May I help you?” she said in a small, reedy voice.

“Are you Mrs. Ziebarth?” Kiezlow said.

“No, sir,” the woman said. “I’m Mrs. Holley. Mrs. Ziebarth is on vacation. Is there anything I can do for you?” She looked from one of their faces to the other; her head shook just a little. Her gray hair was carefully permed, and thinning, and she wore a nubby red blazer with a marcasite cat pinned to the lapel.

“We’re delivering six beds from Handle With Care furniture.”

The woman frowned, raised her eyebrows, looked down at the desk for a moment as if she had just misplaced something, then back up at them.

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