B Is for Burglar

walker in front of her like a clothes rack.
    "She hasn't a faculty left," he said to me over his shoulder. "Pees on herself half the time. I had to move every stick of dining-room furniture out and put her bed in there right where the sideboard stood. I told her I'd outlive her the day I married her. She gets on my nerves. She did back then too. I'd just as soon live with a side of meat."
    "Who's at the door?" she said insistently.
    "Nobody. I'm talkin' to myself," he said.
    He shuffled into the hallway behind her. His hovering had a tender quality about it in spite of what he said. In any event, she didn't seem aware of his aggravation or his minor tyrannies. I wondered if he'd stood there and timed her for the forty-six minutes while she struggled with the broom-closet door. Is that what marriages finally come down to? I've seen old couples toddle down the street together holding hands and I've always looked on faintly misty-eyed, but maybe it is all the same clash of wills behind closed doors. I've been married twice myself and both ended in divorce. I berate myself for that sometimes but now I'm not sure. Maybe I haven't made such a bad trade-off. Personally, I'd rather grow old alone than in the company of anyone I've met so far. I don't experience myself as lonely, incomplete, or unfulfilled, but I don't talk about that much. It seems to piss people off – especially men.

Chapter 8
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    Mr. Snyder returned to the living room and sat down heavily on the couch. "Now then."
    "What can you tell me about that fire next door?" I asked. "I saw the place. It looks awful."
    He nodded, preparing himself as though for a television interview, staring straight ahead. "Well now, the fire engine woke me up ten o'clock at night. Two of 'em. I don't sleep good anyhow and I heard the siren come right up here close so I got up and went out. Neighbors was runnin' from ever' which way. Black smoke outen that house like you never saw. These firemen, they bashed their way in and pretty soon flames et up the front porch. Whole backside got saved. They found Marty, that was Leonard's wife, layin' on the floor. It'd be right about over there," he said, pointing toward the front door. "I never seen her myself, but Tillie said she was charred head to foot. Just a bunch of stumps, like a piece of wood."
    "Oh really. Tillie didn't mention that to me."
    "She seen the smoke and called right up. Nine-one-one it was. I was sound to sleep. Woke up when the fire engine come blastin' down the road. I thought they'd go right on by, but then I seen the lights and I got up and put a robe on and went out. Poor Leonard wasn't even home. He drove up about the time they got the fire out. Collapsed right on the street when he heard she was dead. I never saw a man so tore up. My wife, May, she never woke up at all. She'd tooken a pill and she's deaf as a broom anyway. You've seen that yourself. Fire broke out here, she'd been roast pork."
    "What time was it when Mr. Grice got home?"
    "I don't know the exact time. Fifteen, twenty minutes after the fire engines come as best I recollect. He was out to dinner with his sister as I hear tell and he comes home to find his own wife dead. His knees give out and down he went. Right on the sidewalk with me standin' not this far away. Turned white and dropped like a big hand had give him a thump and knocked him out. It was the awfullest thing you ever saw. They brought her out zipped up in a plastic sack –"
    "How'd Tillie happen to see her?" I interrupted. "I mean, if she was zipped up in a body bag?"
    "Oh, that Tillie, she sees everything. Ask her. She prob'ly pushed through when the door got bashed in and seen the body for herself. Makes me sick to think of it."
    "I understand Leonard's been staying with his sister since then."
    "That's what I heard, too. Her name is Howe. Lives on Carolina. It's in the book if you want to get in touch."
    "Good. I'll try to see him this afternoon. I'm hoping he can tell me something about where Mrs. Boldt might have gone."
    I got up and held out my hand. "You've been a big help."
    Mr. Snyder struggled to his feet and shook my hand, walking to the door with me.
    I looked over at him with curiosity. "What do you think your wife was referring to when she mentioned the hammering that night? Do you have any idea what she meant?"
    He waved impatiently. "She don't know what she's talkin' about. She got that all confused."
    I shrugged. "Well, I hope Mr. Grice is doing all right at any