In the Midst of Death by Lawrence Block Page B

came on the scene."

    "I might come over later, Elaine."

    "Business or pleasure?Let me reword that.Your business or mine?"

    I found myself smiling into the telephone. "Maybe a little of both,"
    I said. "I have to go out toQueens , but I'll give you a call afterward if I'm coming."

    "Call me either way, baby. If you can't come, call. That's why they put- "

    "Dimes in condoms.I know."

    "Awww, you know all my best jokes," she said. "You're no fun at all."

    MY subway car had been decorated by a lunatic with a can of spray paint. He'd had just one message for the world and he had taken pains to inscribe it wherever the opportunity had presented itself, restating his argument over and over again, working in elaborate curlicues and other embellishments.

    WE ARE PEOPLE TWO, he informed us. I couldn't decide whether the last word was a simple spelling error or represented some significant drug-inspired insight.

    WE ARE PEOPLE TWO.

    I had plenty of time to ponder the meaning of the phrase, all the way out toQueens Boulevard and Continental. I got off the train and walked for several blocks, passing streets named after prep schools.

    Exeter ,Groton ,Harrow . I eventually got toNansen Street , whereBroadfield and his family lived. I don't know how they namedNansen Street .

    TheBroadfield house was a good one, set a ways back on a nicely landscaped lot. An old maple on the strip of lawn between the sidewalk and the street left no doubt about what time of year it was. It was all on fire with red and gold.

    The house itself was two stories tall and thirty or forty years old. It had aged well. The whole block was composed of similar houses, but they differed sufficiently so that one didn't have the sense of being in a development.

    Nor did I have the sense of being within the five boroughs ofNew York . It is hard to remember, living inManhattan , just how high a percentage of New Yorkers inhabit one-family houses on tree-lined streets. Even politicians sometimes have trouble keeping this in mind.

    I walked up a flagstone path to the front door and rang the bell. I could hear chimes sounding inside the house. Then footsteps approached the door, and it was drawn open by a slender woman with short dark hair. She wore a lime-green sweater and dark green pants. Green was a good color for her, matching her eyes, pointing up the shy wood-nymph quality she projected. She was attractive and would have been prettier still if she hadn't been crying recently. Her eyes were rimmed with red and her face was drawn.

    I told her my name and she invited me inside. She said I would have to excuse her, that everything was a mess because it had been a bad day for her.

    I followed her into the living room and took the chair she indicated. Despite what she'd said, nothing seemed to be a mess. The room was immaculate and very tastefully furnished. The decor was conservative and traditional without having a museum feel to it. There were photographs here and there in silver frames. A book of music stood open on the upright piano. She picked it up, closed it, put it away in the piano bench.

    "The children are upstairs," she said. "Sara and Jennifer went to school this morning. They left before I heard the news. When they came home from lunch I kept them home. Eric won't start kindergarten until next year, so he's used to being at home. I don't know what they're thinking and I don't know what to say to them. And the telephone keeps ringing. I'd love to take it off the hook, but what if it's something important? I would have missed your call if I'd taken it off the hook. I just wish I knew what to do." She winced and wrung her hands. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice steadier now. "I'm in a state of shock. It's made me numb and jittery at the same time. For two days I didn't know where my husband was. Now I know that he's in a prison cell.And charged with murder." She made herself take a breath.

    "Would you like some coffee? I just made a fresh pot. Or I