Boys Life

to bleach it out of his skin. “Does that tattoo mean somethin’?”
    Lee Hannaford let smoke dribble from the corner of his mouth. “It means,” he said, “that I don’t like people askin’ me my business.”
    Dad nodded. The first smolderings of anger were reddening his cheeks. “Is that so?”
    “Yeah, it’s so.”
    “Gentlemen, please,” Mr. Steiner said.
    “What would you say to this, hotshot?” Dad propped his elbows on the table and leaned his face closer to the younger man’s. “What would you say if I told you that ten months ago I saw a tattoo just like yours on the arm of a dead man?”
    Mr. Hannaford didn’t respond. His face was emotionless, his eyes cold. He drew cigarette smoke in and blew it out. “Did he have blond hair?” he asked. “Kinda the same color as mine?”
    “Yes.”
    “About the same build, too?”
    “I think so, yes.”
    “Uh-huh.” Mr. Hannaford leaned his chiseled face toward my father’s. When he spoke, the words left smoke trails. “I’d say you saw my brother.”
    “…and these cages must be kept scrupulously clean,” Dr. Lezander was saying as he pointed them out. They were empty right now. “As well as the floor. If you come in three times a week, I expect the floor to be scrubbed three times a week. You’ll be expected to water and feed all the animals in the kennel, as well as exercise them.” I followed along behind him as he showed me from room to room in the basement. Every once in a while I would glance up and see an air vent overhead. “I order my hay in bales. You’d be expected to help unload the truck, cut the baling wire, and spread out hay for the horse stalls. I can attest that cutting baling wire is not an easy endeavor. It’s tough enough to string a piano with. Plus your job will include whatever errands I need you to run.” He turned to face me. “Twenty dollars a week for three afternoons, say from four until six. Does that sound fair?”
    “Gosh.” I couldn’t believe this. Dr. Lezander was offering me a fortune.
    “If you come in on Saturdays, I’ll pay you an extra five dollars for… say, two until four.” He smiled, again with just his mouth. He drank his coffee and set the collie cup down atop an empty wire-mesh cage. “Cory?” he said softly. “I do have two requests before I give you this job.”
    I waited to hear them.
    “One: that your parents don’t know how much I’m paying you. I think they should believe I’m paying you perhaps ten dollars a week. The reason I say this is that… well, I know your father’s working at the gas station now. I saw him the last time I pulled in. I know your mother’s struggling in her baking business. Wouldn’t it be better for you if they didn’t know how much money you were coming home with?”
    “You think I ought to keep such a thing from them?” I asked, bewildered.
    “It would be your decision, of course. But I believe both your mother and father might be… anxious to share your good fortune, if they were to know. And there are so many things a boy could buy with twenty-five dollars a week. The only problem is, you’d have to be discreet about those purchases. You couldn’t spend it all in one place. I might even have to drive you to Union Town or Birmingham to spend some of that money. But couldn’t you think of a few things you might like to have that your parents can’t buy you?”
    I thought. And then I answered: “No sir, I can’t.”
    He laughed, as if this tickled him. “You will, though. With all that money in your pocket, you will.”
    I didn’t answer. I didn’t like what Dr. Lezander thought I would keep from my mother and father.
    “Secondly.” He folded his arms across his chest, and I saw his tongue probe the inside of his cheek. “There is the matter of Miss Sonia Glass.”
    “Sir?” My heart, which had settled down some, now speeded up again.
    “Miss Sonia Glass,” he repeated. “She brought her parrot to me. It died of a brain fever. Right here.” He touched the wire-mesh cage. “Poor, poor creature. Now, it happens that Veronica and Miss Glass are in the same Sunday school class. Miss Glass, it seems, was terribly upset and puzzled by questions you asked her, Cory. She said you were very curious about a particular song, and why her parrot had… reacted strangely to that song.” He smiled thinly. “Miss Glass told Veronica she thought you knew a secret, and might either Veronica or I know what it was? And there was