sands.
'Suh?' he said dimly.
'Mr Jones,' I said, 'my name is Joshua Bigg and I — '
'Joshua,' he said. 'Fit the battle of Jericho.'
'Yes, sir,' I said, 'and I would appreciate it if we could share a drink and I might speak to you for a few moments.'
I proffered the stein of beer.
'I take that kindly,' he said, reaching. 'Set. Sal says you asking about the Knurrs?'
'Yes, sir,' I said, sliding on to the banquette next to him.
The ancient sipped his beer. He told me a story about his old army sergeant. He cackled.
'What war was that, sir?' I asked.
' O h. . ' he said vaguely. 'This or that.'
'About the Knurrs?' I prompted him.
'It was about '58,' he said, not bothering to tell me which century. 'On Sherman Street that was. Am I right?
Sherman Street?'
'You're exactly right, sir,' I said. 'That's the address I have. One-thirteen Sherman Street.'
'If nominated, I will not run,' he recited. 'If elected, I will not serve.'
'That's wonderful,' I marvelled. 'That you remember.'
'I still got all my nuts,' he said, nodding with satisfaction. He suddenly grinned. No teeth. No dentures.
Just pink gums.
'This was in 1958?'
'Nineteen and fifty-eight,' he said. 'Maybe long before.
I tell you something funny about that family, suh. They was all G's. Everybody in that family had a name with a G.'
'Goldie Knurr,' I said. 'Godfrey Knurr.'
'Zactly,' he said. 'The father, George Knurr. The mother, Gertrude Knurr. Three other tads. Two sons: 372
Gaylord Knurr and Gordon Knurr. Another daughter: Grace Knurr.'
'You've got an incredible memory, sir.'
'I sure do,' he said. 'Ain't nothing wrong with my nuts.'
'What happened to them'?' I asked. ' T h e Knurr family?'
' O h. . ' he said, 'the old folks, George and Gertrude, they died, as might be expected. The kids, they all went away, also as might be expected. Goldie, I hear tell, is the only one around still.'
It was not good news. If this old man's memory was accurate, Goldie Knurr was indeed the sister of my target.
'Mr Jones,' I said, 'how is it you know so much about the Knurr family?'
'Oh,' he said slowly, 'I used to do this and that around their house. Little jobs, you know. And my third wife, Emily that was — no, Wanda; yes, the third was Wanda — she was like a mother to the kids.'
'You don't recall anything about Godfrey Knurr, do you, Mr Jones?' I asked. 'One of the sons?'
'Godfrey Knurr?' he repeated, his eyes clouding. 'That would be the middle boy. Became a preacher man, he did.
Left town. Can't blame him for that.'
'No indeed.' I said fervently, 'I really can't. You don't remember anything else about Godfrey? Anything special?'
'Smart young one,' he said. 'Big and strong. Liked the girls. Played football. Something…'
He stopped suddenly.
'Something?' I prompted.
'I don't rightly recall.'
'Something good or something bad?'
He stared at me with eyes suddenly clear and piercing and steady.
'I don't rightly recall,' he repeated.
6
I opened my eyes Friday morning, bewildered for an instant before I recalled where I was. I rose, did a few halfhearted stretching exercises. I looked in vain for soap, washcloth, towel. I made do by sponging myself with a handkerchief dipped in water from my corner sink. As promised, it was running water. Cold. But invigorating.
I then dressed. My suit, of course, was badly wrinkled, but that seemed a minor consideration.
The owner-clerk was still in his wire mesh cage, drinking coffee from a cardboard container and reading a copy of Architectural Digest.
'When is checkout time, please?' I asked.
'Every hour on the hour,' he said, 'Oh, it's you.
Checkout time for you will be around eight or nine tonight.'
I stepped outside to find the rain had ceased, but the sun was hidden behind an oysterish sky. It put a dull tarnish on the world. I walked a few blocks. It took all my optimism to keep my spirits from drooping: block after block of mean row houses, a few scrubby trees.
I finally found a luncheonette that seemed to be doing a thriving business, went in, and had a reasonably edible breakfast. When I paid my bill, I got directions to Sherman Street.
Sherman Street was absolutely no different from any other in Athens: a solid culvert of row houses, jammed together, all of the same uninspired design, all three storeys high, either clapboard or covered with counterfeit brick siding.
I found 113 Sherman Street. I climbed the three steps to 374
the stoop, pushed the bell, heard it ring inside the house, and waited.
The door opened a cautious crack.
'Miss Goldie Knurr?' I asked, taking off my hat.
'I'm not buying anything,' she said sharply.
'I don't blame you, ma'am,' I said, smiling so widely that my face ached. 'Prices being the way they are. But I'm not selling anything. It's about your brother, Godfrey Knurr.'
The door was flung open.
'He's dead!' the woman wailed.
'Oh no,' I said hastily. 'No, no, no. Nothing like that. I saw him, uh, yesterday, and he's healthy and, uh, in fine shape.'
'Law,' she said, pressing a fist into her soft bosom, 'you gave me such a start. Come in, sir.'
She let me into a hallway, paused to lock, chain, and bolt the door, then turned to face me.
'You saw Godfrey yesterday?' she said in a voice of marvel: Robert Browning asking, 'Ah, did you once see Shelley p l a i n. .? '
'I did indeed, ma'am.'
'And he's all right?'
'As far as I could tell, he's in excellent health. He has a beard now. Did you know?'
'A beard?' she cried. 'Think of that! Did he give you a message for me?'
'Ah. . no,' I said softly. 'But only because I didn't tell him I was coming to see you. May I tell you about it?'
'Of course you may!' she said loudly, recalling her duties as a hostess with a guest in the house. 'Here, let me take your coat and hat, and you come into the parlour and we'll have a nice chat. A cup of tea? Would you like a nice cup of tea?'
'Thank you, ma'am, but no. I just finished my breakfast.'
