The Barker Street Regulars

villain remember my car? Probably not. He’d seen it for only a few seconds. Outside the restaurant, it had been Kevin, not me, he’d recognized. Would he know my face again? Maybe. But Lower Norwood Road was dark. I hoped that no one had repaired the broken gas lamp. I certainly hoped that no one there was giving a party. And Rowdy and I wouldn’t go all the way to the end of the street; we’d just reconnoiter and backtrack.
    As soon as Rowdy and I began to stroll up Norwood Road, I discovered a new and powerful reason to object to the damned inadequate, elitist gas lamps. It was one thing to be unable to read a street sign, quite another to be virtually unable to see Rowdy. Now, in the fog and darkness, when subtle changes in Rowdy’s body language were supposed to signal the presence of Simon’s spectral stand-in, I could see little more than a burly, white-faced mass with a plumy white tail. Running my hand down Rowdy’s neck and back, I felt no sign of hackles. Trotting along, he paused now and then to lay casual territorial claim to a tree trunk in the name of the Sovereign Nation of the Alaskan Malamute. We reached the fork in the road without incident and turned left onto Lower Norwood. The dim glow of a gas lamp showed a sidewalk stretching along the left-hand side and, on the right, the kind of wide strip of grass and tall shrubbery I’d seen at Ceci’s. The map of Newton had shown me that Lower Norwood Road was only one short block long. The few houses facing it were on the left; on the opposite side were the ends of large lots like Ceci’s with addresses on Upper Norwood. The deadend road was even darker and more deserted than the last time I’d seen it. In addition to the gas lamp near the fork, two others were visible, one on the right, then one on the left. The broken one I’d noticed near Ceci’s still hadn’t been fixed. On my previous visit, the house opposite Ceci’s lower gate had been dark. The carriage lamps and other bright lights of the brick Tudor next to it, I now realized, had been the principal source of illumination for the street. Ceci had remarked that its owners must be home from Florida. Maybe they’d gone back. How was I supposed to reconnoiter when I couldn’t see anything?
    But if I couldn’t see, I couldn’t be seen, could I? Especially if I avoided the small circles of gaslight. Crossing to the right-hand side of the road, I hoped that local dog walkers carried plastic bags and invariably cleaned up after their dogs.
    I stopped for a moment. In the house across from me, a glowing first-floor window suggested a television. The house beyond it had a car parked in the driveway and a bright window on the second floor. I listened. Prosperous suburbs are supposed to be peaceful and quiet. In the daytime, all year long, they are, in fact, cacophonous. As soon as snow vanquishes the din of lawn-service equipment, snow blowers start roaring. Furthermore, house-proud people with money are always renovating, putting up additions and garages, or having driveways and sidewalks deafeningly repaved. Politicians eager for reelection make sure that the streets get swept, plowed, and newly blacktopped by machines obviously designed by hearing-aid manufacturers bent on causing mass hearing loss and thus generating business for themselves. Face it: This kind of noise is beyond the reach of the poor. Even now, Newton was far from silent. In the distance, traffic swept along the Mass. Pike. I heard a plane overhead. Blocks away, cars and trucks rumbled. To avoid the gaslight, I crossed to the left-hand side, stopped to listen again, and went on. Rowdy gave no indication of sensing the presence of another dog. Reaching the last illuminated gaslight, we crossed back to the dark side. Opposite us was a deserted-looking house. Beyond it was the Tudor with the carriage lamps set on big pillars. The last house looked as empty as on my first visit. With the exception of the car I’d seen in a driveway, there wasn’t a single vehicle in sight. No one else was walking a dog. It was easy to imagine that a nuclear attack had destroyed all the people, but left their houses and possessions intact. I’d intended to glance down this street. According to my plan, if I found it dark and empty, I’d return to my car and drive back here with the headlights on high beam. Just as I was about to make an about-turn and carry out the plan, Rowdy quit sniffing the ground. I couldn’t see the expression