I Is for Innocent

didn't extend to home cooking, I'm afraid. I snagged my shoulder bag and a jacket and headed up to Rosie's.
    I was somewhat taken aback to find the place just as busy as it had been the night before. This time, instead of bowlers, there appeared to be a softball team – guys in sweatpants and matching short-sleeved shirts that sported the name of a local electrical supply firm in stitching across the back. Much cigarette smoke, many raised beer steins and bursts of the sort of raucous laughter that drinking unleashes. The place looked like one of those beer commercials where people seem to be having a much better time than they actually do in real life. The jukebox was pounding out a cut so distorted it was difficult to identify. The television set at one end of the bar was turned to ESPN, the picture showing laps of some dusty and interminable stock car race. No one was paying the slightest attention, but the sound was turned up to compete with the din.
    Rosie looked on, beaming complacently. What was happening to the woman? She'd never tolerated noise. She'd never encouraged the patronage of sports buffs. I'd always worried the tavern would be discovered by the yuppies and turned into an upscale drinking establishment for business executives and attorneys. It never crossed my mind I'd be rubbing elbows with a bunch of Ben-Gay addicts.
    I spotted Henry and his brother William. Henry was wearing cutoffs, a white T-shirt, and deck shoes, his long tanned legs looking muscular and sturdy. William still wore his suit, but he'd removed the matching vest. While Henry slouched in his chair with a beer in front of him, William sat bolt upright, sipping mineral water with a slice of lemon. I gave Henry a wave and headed for my favorite back booth, which was miraculously empty. I stopped at the halfway point. Henry's gaze had settled on mine with such a look of mute pleading that I found myself opting for his table instead.
    William rose to his feet.
    Henry shoved a chair toward me with his foot. "You want a beer? I'll buy you a beer."
    "I'd really prefer white wine if it's all the same to you," I said.
    "Absolutely. No problem. White wine it is."
    Since I'd seen the two of them the day before, I could have sworn they'd regressed. I could almost picture them as they'd been at eight and ten years old respectively. Henry was all elbows and knees, conducting himself with a sullen-younger-brother belligerence. He'd probably spent his youth being victimized by William's fastidious and lofty manner. Maybe their mother had assigned Henry to his brother's care, forcing the two of them into unwanted proximity. William looked like the sort who would lord it over Henry, tormenting his younger brother when he wasn't tattling on him. Now at eighty-three, Henry looked both restless and rebellious, unable to assert himself except in clowning and asides.
    He was searching now for Rosie while William sat down again. I turned to William and raised my voice so he could hear me over all the ruckus in the place. "How was your first day in Santa Teresa?"
    "I'd say the day was fair. I suffered a little episode of heart palpitations...." William's voice was powdery and feeble.
    I put a hand to my ear to indicate I was having trouble hearing him. Henry leaned toward me.
    "We spent the afternoon at the Urgent Care Center," Henry yelled. "It was fun. The equivalent of the circus for those of us on Medicare."
    William said, "I had a problem with my heart. The doctor ordered an ECG. I can't remember now what he called my particular condition...."
    "Indigestion," Henry hollered. "All you had to do was burp."
    William didn't seem dismayed by Henry's facetiousness. "My brother's uncomfortable at any sign of human frailty."
    "Hanging around you all my life, I ought to be used to it."
    I was still focused on William. "Are you feeling okay?"
    "Yes, thank you," he replied.
    "Here's how I feel," Henry said. He crossed his eyes and hung his tongue out the side of his mouth, clutching his chest.
    William didn't crack a smile. "Would you care to have a look?"
    I wasn't sure what he was offering until he took out the tracing from his electrocardiogram. "They let you keep this?" I asked.
    "Just this portion. The remainder is in my chart. I brought my medical records with me, in case I needed them."
    The three of us stared at the ribbon of ink with its spikes at regular intervals. It looked like a crosscut of ocean with four shark fins coming straight at us through