The Body Of Jonah Boyd - By David Leavitt Page 0,35
really thinking that far ahead, at your age?”
“It’ not that far ahead! Besides, soon enough, Dad will want to retire. They’ll want a smaller place.” Daphne lay back, besotted by her own vision. “There’ so much I’d do if this house were ours! For a start, paint the kitchen. And fill in that stupid barbecue pit.” She propped herself up on one elbow. “Oh, Denny, I don’t know how well you know Glenn, but he’ really the most wonderful... so smart and insightful. And an amazing lover. I mean, he really knows how to fuck—oh, have I shocked you?”
“Of course not.”
“Good.” Daphne sounded disappointed. “Tonight was the most marvelous night. May I tell you about it?”
“Sure,” I said. “Tell me everything.”
“Okay,” she said.
And then, for almost an hour, until the sun coming through the windows roused Dora to yowl for her breakfast, she did.
Eight
THAT MORNING NANCY hustled me out of bed early. As it turned out, she had already called a tow truck for my car, and it was on its way. I only had time to guzzle down a cup of coffee and ask that she give the Boyds, who were still in bed, my regards, before the truck arrived; with great speed and dexterity, the driver hooked my poor car to its tail, like some enormous fish. At last I climbed into the cab, and he gazed at me in frank bemusement: a woman wearing last night’ makeup, in a wrinkled blouse and too formal skirt. He gave me his phone number, though, and proposed that I call him if I had any free time over the weekend.
For the rest of the day the logistics of auto repair consumed me. The world shrunk to a narrow island consisting of my apartment at one end and at the other the local Dodge dealership, with only a stretch of freeway I had no means of navigating in between. Gaskets, oil filters, and catalytic converters became the stuff not only of my conscious life but of my dreams. I had trouble sleeping; even wearing earplugs I could not block out the noise of the freeway—an invasive noise, so different from the soothing hum of Florizona Avenue. The dishwasher was noisy too; everything in that apartment was gimcrack, assaultive, and I woke up in the morning with a headache. I wanted breakfast, and had no food. I wanted to get out, and couldn’t, which was probably why, when Nancy phoned around ten-thirty, I could barely contain my delight. “I’m sorry to bother you,” she said, “I know you’re busy with your car, but I need some help. Can you come over? I’ll pay for a taxi.”
“Of course,” I said, trying not to sound too overjoyed. “But what’ wrong?”
Something crunched in background. “It’ better if I explain once you’re here. It’ really quite—oops, I’d better go. Oh, and Denny—thanks.’’
I arrived half an hour later. Nancy was on her knees at the foot of the staircase that climbed to the kitchen, rifling through the contents of an overturned garbage can.
“I got here as fast as I could,” I said. “But what are you doing?”
“Oh, hi.” She was inserting a rubber-gloved hand into the morass of turkey parts and soiled paper towels. “I’m really so glad you’re here, Denny. I’m afraid there’ been some trouble.”
“What happened?”
“Jonah Boyd’ lost his notebooks.”
“But I thought they were leaving this morning.”
“They did leave. Two hours ago. But then about an hour after that, I got this frantic phone call from Anne. They were on the interstate, and they’d pulled over at a rest plaza. It seems that once again Jonah had one of his feelings, just like on the way from the airport, and so they pulled over to make sure the notebooks were still in his briefcase. And they weren’t.”
“Oh, no. Where could he have left them?”
“That’ just it, no one knows. They might be here in the house, or they might not. Because yesterday he took Ben down to the arroyo, and he definitely had the notebooks with him then. And then we all met up at a Chinese restaurant—they came in the rental car, Ernest and I drove Anne from the house—and he might have had them there, too. The problem is, he can’t remember when he last saw them. It’ so exasperating! Oh, what’ this?” She fished out a box that had contained some frozen Parker House rolls. “No, nothing here.”
“But they shouldn’t be that hard to find. I mean, there are four of them,