Laura Docherty
Ben wasn’t much help. He originally ran into Doc at the post office in Merchantville. He was there to check his post office box. Ben thought it strange that Doc had the box, but he didn’t ask any questions because his lesson plan about the wars was on his mind. When he found out Doc had been in Vietnam, Ben enlisted him to give a talk. Doc agreed but admitted to being nervous. The date for my talk was already set, so Ben invited him to attend.
Unfortunately for me, Doc had given his talk to Ben’s class while Walt and I were still up in Reading. Ben said it had gone well, but he assumed Doc’s success with the students had to do with his relative youth. He was close to their age and therefore knew how to talk to them.
Ben had no idea how to reach him or even what post office box might be his. I considered writing a letter and taking it to the post office to ask them to put it in the box, but a letter is easily ignored. I also didn’t know how often he’d check the box. If he was only using it as an address, the box might go unopened for a week or more. I resolved to write a letter and drop it, but only in parallel to my active search.
I asked Ben a broader question. “Do you know the family? I’d like to talk with them. Maybe they’ve heard from him.”
“Everyone in Merchantville knows the Docherty’s. I know the mother fairly well. I met her a few times and I’m sure I have her telephone number. I can reach out and make an introduction.”
“I’d appreciate it. I feel like a horse’s ass over the way I treated him. I need to apologize, preferably in person.”
“If she’ll see you, when should I say you can come?”
“Anytime that’s convenient for her. Walt’s still recovering, so we’re not keeping a schedule.”
“Perfect. I’ll let you know.”
I thanked Ben and made a little small talk, then finished the call. I wandered into the living room to find Walt asleep in front of the evening news. I went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. I barely entered the room when the phone on the wall rang in my ear. I snatched the receiver from the hook and tried to keep my voice low when I answered.
It was Ben. He’d spoken to Missus Docherty. She agreed to see me the next day at one in the afternoon. She hadn’t seen or heard from her son, but she’d see me just the same. I thanked Ben for his help and wrote the Docherty address on the pad by the phone.
Walt walked in as I returned the receiver to the hook. The ring woke him from the chair. I explained the call before he could ask. He invited himself on the trip. “I’ll go with you. If I stay here, I’ll wind up downstairs.”
I agreed to take him. He yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “I’m going to bed. Are you coming?”
The clock said it was almost nine. I hadn’t realized how long we’d been downstairs. “Go ahead, love. I’ll be along in a minute.”
* * * *
The next day, Walt drove us to Merchantville. I didn’t want to let him, but he was able to convince me. His reasoning was that we weren’t likely to hit traffic, it was broad daylight, and he liked to drive so the task wasn’t stressful. He also said he’d experience more stress in the passenger seat while I drove than if he drove us.
We arrived at a grand old house on its own block right on the main street of the town. It was a three-story colonial built of dark grey stone. A low stone wall surrounded the property and a stone carriage house stood at the back. Walt drove through the open wrought iron gates and parked in the curved drive. We were met by a deferential housemaid who took us to a sitting room. The woman of the house arrived a very short while later.
Missus Docherty breezed in like she was the main character of a stage play. Her trim figure was highlighted by a fashionable dress with European flair. The skirt and top were buttercup yellow, and she moved on white heels. She had a lot of chestnut brown hair that fell to her throat. The style looked simple but took a lot of time to cultivate. The ensemble didn’t quite come together for her. She looked like a parody of Jackie Kennedy.
She dismissed the maid with a very sharp, ‘that’s all, Helen.’ I remembered Doc’s description of his mother, that she was a terror to the help. I assumed she was also a vain woman. The math I had in my head told me she had to be around fifty, but she dressed like a woman in her thirties, and her hair didn’t show a trace of grey.
I offered my hand to our hostess. She shook it like a man. I introduced myself, then tried to feed her obvious vanity. “I’m sorry, but I expected the mistress of the house. It’s a pleasure to meet you, young lady. I wasn’t aware that Doc had a sister.”
She laughed with artificial delight. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Mister Edwards.”
I dismissed the formality of last names. “Please, call me Law.”
She grinned at the end of her laugh. “You may call me Laura.” She shook hands with Walt. “And who is this gentleman?”
“This is Walt. He’s my…uh, partner in…uh…in business. Your son helped save his life.”
Her eyes went wide. “Did he?”
Walt explained. “I had a heart attack a month ago. Doc was with me in an instant. He knew just what to do. He also kept Law company, so he didn’t worry himself to death while he spent the night in the waiting room at the hospital.”
She split a searching glance between us. “You were together when it happened?”
Walt didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t think it would do any harm to be honest. “Walt and I are also partners in life. We were just about in bed when the attack struck.”
She stared, then burst out laughing. Instead of the artificial titter she used before, she guffawed like a barmaid in a ginmill. She pointed a manicured nail between us. “You’re queens! My idiot son was shacked up with a pair of old queens. That’s rich. I can’t wait to tell his father! He’ll bust a gut!”
I heaved a sigh because I’d been wrong. I thought Laura Docherty was a human being, but she only resembled one. She was really a hyena in a polyester dress. I maintained my composure to ask the one question I cared about most. “Missus Docherty, I’d like to find your son. Have you spoken to him? Do you have any idea where he might be?”
She laughed again. “My son…my idiot son. He left here to go to war and he never came back. He took all the opportunities we gave him and shoved them back in our faces. I don’t have a son anymore. To hell with him, and to hell with you. Maybe he found another pair of old queens to shack up with. You must be jealous.”
I opened my mouth to shout in Doc’s defense, but spent my breath on a ragged exhale instead. There was no point in saying anything. I touched Walt’s shoulder and jerked my head toward the door. We started to leave.
Laura yelled at our backs with cutesy baby talk. “Awww, did I hurt the old queen’s feelings? I’m sorry.”
I didn’t slow my steps, but Walt stopped. He turned smoothly to face our hostess. “Jackie Kennedy said that one should always dress like a marble column. You, Missus Docherty, look like a cement block.”
Her laughter died in her throat and was replaced by strangled rage. Walt turned again and stalked out. I hurried after him and slammed the door behind us.
Helen the housemaid met us by the front door. “Leaving so soon gentleman?”
I answered. “We’ve had quite enough of Laura’s company. You’ll have to let me apologize, because we left her in an ugly mood.”
She waved her hand in the air like it made no difference. “I gave my notice at the beginning of the week. Tomorrow is my last day. She could shout herself blue in the face and it wouldn’t bother me. It’s just as well. I’m tired of commuting from the city.”
As if to make Helen’s point for her, Laura Docherty shouted. “HELEN!”
The maid didn’t even flinch. She rolled her eyes and shook her head as if the sound was nothing but the wind. I asked if she had another job lined up.
“No, but I couldn’t stand it here for one more minute.”
The mistress of the house shrieked again. “HELEN!”
I waved toward the noise. “I can’t imagine what would make you leave all this.”
She chuckled daintily.
Walt entered the discussion. “Would you mind if I asked why you’re working here if you live in the city?
“I don’t mind at all. I had a job at a restaurant and it wasn’t paying very much. My girlfriend is in private service and she filled my head with how nice the work can be and how much more I could make than what I did before. I listened and applied for a position here. I even spent my little savings on a used car to commute because I thought it would be an investment against future earnings. After six months, I can tell you the math just doesn’t work. Between maintenance on the car and gas back and forth and tolls for the bridge and all the extra time, it just doesn’t make sense. Now I suppose I’ll have to sell my little sedan and look for another job in a restaurant.”
Walt wanted more information. “What restaurant did you work for?”
“The North American on Market Street right next to Wannamaker’s Department Store.”
“Where do you commute from?”
“I’m on Race Street between Logan Circle and Hahnemann Hospital, right across from the Friends Meeting House. Why all the questions?”
Walt shook the maid’s hand and introduced himself. “My name is Walt Whitman Stack. I own Walt’s Special. It’s a restaurant on North Broad and Vine, which is just a block and a half from your home. Do you know it?”
She nodded. “I know it. Everyone who has any taste knows Walt’s Special.”
“We need a new hostess, someone to show people to their tables and take reservations and help guide the wait staff in the ways of dignity. It’s a demanding post because the wait staff needs to be watched sharply, but if you think you’re up to it, come up next week and see a man named Owen. He’s running the place now.”
She promised to do as he asked, then curtsied and thanked us both. I was shocked. I hadn’t seen a curtsy in years. Any woman who still knew how certainly knew the ways of dignity. We took our leave and went out to the car.
Walt got in the driver’s seat and started the motor. I got in and poked his shoulder. “You’re getting as bad as me collecting strays.”
“Who’s a stray? Helen? She’s a lady, much more of a lady than her mistress. Plus, she worked at the North American. That’s as fine a restaurant as there is in the city, besides mine. She could be an asset to us. We need to get a replacement for Julie. I love her for filling in, but Owen said it’s hard for both of them to work nights because they’ve got their kids at home. Your sister, Millie, has been looking after them in the evenings, but Owen always has to walk her home at night and it’s wearing them all out.”
“I had no idea.” I shrugged to set the matter aside. “If Walt’s Special gets a new hostess out of the deal, then I’m glad we came here today. We didn’t accomplish another damn thing. No wonder Doc ran away to Vietnam with a mother like her.”
Walt frowned darkly. “I’d have run. Vietnam might not have been far enough for me.”
I smirked at the memory of our conversation. “Did you say she looked like a concrete block?”
“I said cement.”
“What’s the difference?”
“No idea. I hope cement is uglier.”
“She really got to you, huh?”
“Just when I think it’s getting better, I run into someone like her and she destroys my illusions. I’m not even mad at her. I’m mad at the world for allowing her to exist.”
I didn’t allow myself to be as angry as he was. “She’s lowlife in a hundred-dollar dress. Her outfit is like putting a Churchill band around a nickel cigar. Don’t waste your anger because there will always be people like her. I’m proud of the way you knocked her off her perch. That was probably the best insult I’ve ever heard in my life.”
He allowed himself to smile. “I was rather proud of it when it popped in my head.”
I patted his shoulder. “She’ll stew over that one for a long while. I bet she’s looking in the mirror right now. I almost feel bad for Doc’s old man. She’s going to make his evening hell.”
“Serves him right for marrying her.”
I patted Walt’s shoulder again. “Let’s find the post office so I can drop my letter. We may as well go back over the bridge after that. We’ve got to stop at the police station to see about Malcom and his brick. We’ve also got to get home in time for the man from the market to deliver the trees.”
He agreed and put the gear shift in ‘DRIVE.’
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