Strange Inheritance by Bob Biderman

Author:Bob Biderman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Apollo Press / Germinal Prdouctions Ltd
Published: 2011-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

Harlem blues

‘RISE AND SHINE, lazy-bones! It’s after ten!’

Joseph looked up and saw her cheerful puppy-like face smiling down at him. He had half a notion to feel her nose to see if it were moist. ‘You always did wake up happy,’ he said. ‘I never understood how you could do it.’

‘There’s coffee for you on the table,’ she sang. ‘It’s hot now, but I can’t guarantee it will be for long. I also have a surprise for you.’

He sat up and rubbed his head. The world was always a blur when he awoke whether it was just the breaking of dawn or late in the afternoon. ‘A surprise?’ And then he remembered the other day. ‘Please, no surprises,’ he groaned.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘Then I’ll just send the bagels and lox back to the deli.’

‘Wait,’ he said. ‘Let’s not be too hasty . . .’

Bagels, lox, and the New York Times. That’s what dreams of the Big Apple were made of. The bagels were slightly stale, the lox was a bit too salty, and the Times still gloried in its liberal dilemma of guilt and pretense of objectivity. But still, it had some substance and it tasted good to boot.

‘What are your plans for today?’ she asked him.

‘No plans,’ he said, ‘and few aspirations . . .’

‘How long are you staying?’ She was dressed in a colorful smock. And she wore a pink beret jauntily pulled down on one side of her head.

‘I don’t know,’ he said. And then he looked over at her. ‘Am I in your way?’

She shook her head. ‘No. Stay as long as you want. If you can put up with me, I can put up with you.’

He laughed. ‘It’s come to that, has it?’

She came over and kissed him. ‘I’m glad you’re here. Really. Take this extra key. That way you can let yourself in if I’m not around.

‘Thanks.’

‘I’m going back to work,’ she said. ‘Just help yourself to anything . . .’ And then she went over to her painting area and closed the curtains.

Joseph read the paper, drank his coffee and ate his bagel, and when he was done he took out his address book and pondered the notation he had made next to the name ‘Carmen Jones - Harlem Books’. Then he went over to the telephone and dialled the number.

‘Harlem Books,’ said a male voice.

‘Yes, I’d like to speak to Ms Jones, please.’

‘Who is this?’

‘Joseph Radkin.’

There was a brief pause and then another voice came on the line. ‘Yes?’

‘Am I speaking with Carmen Jones?’

‘You would have been if this were ten years ago. You’re speaking with Shanti now. Who are you?’

‘My name’s Joseph Radkin. I’m trying to find the daughter of Zachariah Jones.’

‘What do you want?’

‘I want to talk with her. Was he your father?’

‘What do you want to talk about?’

‘My Dad sailed with Captain Zac during the war. I’m doing some research about that period and . . .’

The voice cut him off. ‘My father wrote a little book about his life.

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