I waited while she hung up my hat and coat on brass hooks projecting from an oak Victorian rack with a long, silvered mirror, lidded bench, and places for umbrellas with shallow pans to catch the dripping. Then I proffered my business card.
'Leopold Tabatchnick, ma'am,' I said, 'of New York.
Attorney-at-law.'
'He's not in any trouble, is he?' she asked anxiously, scarcely glancing at the card.
'None whatsoever,' I assured her, reclaiming my card.
'Please let me tell you what this is all about.'
'Oh, law,' she said, pressing a fist into her bosom again,
'I'm just so discombobulated. It's been so long since I've heard from Godfrey. Do come in and sit down, Mr — what was that name?'
'Tabatchnick. Leopold Tabatchnick.'
'Well, you just come right in and sit down, Mr Leopold,' she said, 'and tell me what brings you to Gary.'
She led me the way into the parlour. There were the bright colours missing from outdoor Gary. Red, green, blue, yellow, purple, pink, orange, violet: all in chintz run wild. The sofa, chairs, pillows, even the tablecloths were flowers and birds, butterflies and sunrises. Parrots on the rug and peonies in the wallpaper. Everything blazing and crashing. Overstuffed and overwhelming. The room stunned the eye, shocked the senses: a funhouse of snapping hues in prints, stripes, checks, plaids. It was hard to breathe.
Goldie Knurr was just as overstuffed and overwhelming.
Not fat, but a big, solid-soft woman, as tall as Godfrey and just as husky. She was dressed for a garden party in a flowing gown of pleats and flounces, all in a print of cherry clumps that made her seem twice as large and twice as imposing.
Sixty-five at least, I guessed, with that rosy, downy complexion some matrons are blessed with: the glow that 376
never disappears until the lid is nailed down. I saw the family resemblance; she had Godfrey's full, tender lips, his steady, no-nonsense brown eyes, even the masculine cragginess of his features.
Her figure was almost as broad-shouldered as her brother's, but softened, plumpish. Her hands were chubby. The hair, which might have been a wig — although I suspected she might call it a 'transformation' — was bluish- white, elaborately set, and covered with a scarcely discernible net.
She sat me down in an armchair so soft that I felt swallowed. When she came close, I smelled lavender sachet, sweetly cloying. I hoped she wouldn't take a chair too near, but she did. She sat upright, spine straight, ankles crossed, hands clasped in her lap.
'Yes, Mr Leopold?' she said, beaming.
'Tabatchnick, ma'am,' I murmured. 'Leopold Tabatchnick. Miss Knurr, I represent a legal firm on retainer to the Stilton Foundation of New York. You've heard of the Stilton Foundation, of course?'
'Of course,' she said, still beaming. Her voice was warm, burbling, full of aspirates. A very young, hopeful voice.
'Well, as you probably know, the Stilton Foundation makes frequent grants of large sums of money to qualified applicants in the social sciences for projects we feel will benefit humanity. Your brother, the Reverend Godfrey Knurr, has applied for such a grant. He desires to investigate the causes of and cures for juvenile delinquency. He seems well qualified to conduct such a research project, but because the amount of money involved is considerable, we naturally must make every effort to investigate the background, competence, and character of the applicant.
And that is why I am here today.'
She was dazzled. I was not sure she had quite understood everything I had thrown at her, but she did grasp the 377
fact that her brother might be granted a great deal of money if this funny little man in the wrinkled suit lost in her best armchair gave him a good report.
'Of course,' she gasped. 'Any way I can h e l p. . '
'I understand yours was a large family, Miss Knurr. Five children, and — '
'Five happy children,' she interrupted. 'And five successful children. Not one of us on welfare!'
'Most commendable,' I murmured. 'About Godfrey, could you tell me if — '
'The best,' she said firmly. 'Absolutely the best! We all knew it. There was no jealousy, you understand. We were all so proud of him. He was the tallest and strongest and most handsome of the boys. Star of the football team, president of his high school class, captain of the debating team, good marks in every subject. Everyone loved him — and not just the family. Everyone! You'll find that no one has a bad word to say about Godfrey Knurr. We all knew that he was destined for great things, and that's just the way it turned out.'
She sat back, smiling, nodding, panting slightly, pleased with the panegyric she had just delivered.
But I couldn't let it go at that. This was the woman who instinctively suspected sudden death when her brother's name was first mentioned, who asked if he was in trouble when she learned I was a lawyer, who apparently hadn't seen or heard from the favoured brother in years. It didn't jibe with the dream she had recalled.
'Then he was never in any, ah, trouble as a boy?'
'Absolutely not!' she said definitely, then decided to amend that. 'Oh, there were a few little things you might expect from a high-spirited youngster. But nothing serious, I do assure you.'
'He had friends?'
'Many! Many! Godfrey was very popular.'
'With his teachers as well as his peers?'
'Oh, law, yes,' she said enthusiastically. 'He was such a good student, you see. So quick to learn. The other boys, they talked about going into the mills and things like that.
But Godfrey would never be satisfied with that. He aimed for higher things. That boy had ambition.'
It was the unreserved love of a sister for a handsome, talented younger brother. I found it hard to break through that worship.
'Miss Knurr,' I said, 'about Godfrey's choice of the ministry as a career — was he very religious as a boy?'
Lucky shot. Up to that point her answers had been prompt and glib. Now she paused before answering. She was obviously giving some thought to framing her reply, and when she spoke the timbre of her voice had changed. I thought her uncertain, if not fearful.
' Well. . ' she said finally, 'ours was a God-fearing family. Church every Sunday morning without fail, I can tell you! I can't say that Godfrey was any different from the rest of us children as far as religion was concerned. But when he announced he was going to study for the ministry, we were all very happy. Naturally.'
'Naturally,' I said, 'and the other boys, Godfrey's brothers, did they really go into the mills?'
'No,' she said shortly, 'they never did. They were both drafted, of course, and Gaylord decided to stay in the army. Gordon owns a gas station in Kentucky.'
'And Godfrey became a minister,' I said encouragingly.
'Your church is in the neighbourhood?'
'Two blocks south on Versailles Street,' she said, pronouncing it 'Ver-sales.' 'It's St Paul's. The pastor then was the Reverend Stokes. He's retired now.'
'And who took his place?' I asked.
'Reverend Dix,' she said stonily. 'A black.' Then she brightened. 'Would you like to see our family album?
Pictures of all of us?' She rose briefly, left the room, and returned with the album. Then she sat down on a posy-379
covered sofa and motioned me to sit beside her.
What is it about old snapshots that is so sad? Those moments in sunshine caught forever should inspire happiness and fond memories. But they don't. There is a dread about them. The snapshots of the Knurr family weren't photographs so much as memento mori.
We finished the album and I turned back to the section devoted to photographs of Godfrey.
'Who is this he's with?' I pointed at a snapshot of two stalwart youths in football uniforms standing side by side, legs spread, hands on hips. The boy alongside Godfrey Knurr was a black.
