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/> “Did he ever have heart problems before this?”
“No” she replied.
“How was he when he came home from Caramore?”
“The same as at the hospital. He slept most of the time. He didn’t say much, he was always too sleepy” Angie answered.
“How many days was he home before it happened?”
“Two.”
“Who did you call when he had the heart attack?” Ed asked.
“The emergency and they took him to St. Anne’s. I knew he was gone when they got here, though.”
“Do you have the death certificate?”
“No” she replied.
“How do you know he died from a heart attack then?”
“Doctor House told me.”
“House!” Ed exclaimed in a loud, surprised voice.
“How did he know? Did you call him?”
“No, he called me, a little while after they took Al to the hospital” she answered.
“He’s a very nice man” she continued, “He even came here to see me and said how sorry he was, about Al.”
“Came here! To the house?” Ed said in amazement.
“Yes. he came the night Al passed away. He said he was sorry and he liked Al and he wanted to be sure that I knew how he felt.”
“You mean it was strictly a sympathy call?” replied Ed.
“Well, almost. He picked up Al’s medicine, too, the pills that were left.”
“He took the pills? Did he say why?”
“He said that Al had a rare disease and the pills were a special medicine, that he was working on and that they were very hard to make. That’s why he wanted the ones Al didn’t use back.”
“Can you get a copy of the death certificate tomorrow?” Ed asked.
“Where do I get it?”
“Call the funeral home, they’ll get it for you.”
“I’m suppose to pick up some papers from them later today. Maybe it’s one of them” she replied as her eyes began to well up with tears.
Ed could see, that the discussion was beginning to wear on her.
“Is Al’s cousin really making big barks, I mean bucks, in dog food or is it only chicken feed?” he said jokingly, trying to break the strain.
“I don’t know, but he’s been monkeying around with pet food for a long time, now” she quickly retorted, with a weak smile.
The cousin stuck his head through the door, for the fourth time, just as Angie turned and started towards it. Ed glanced at his watch and abruptly followed her, extending his hand and bidding each of the remaining guests, including the disappointed looking dog food king, a goodbye
.
Chapter IX

Ed left the house and went to his car. He sat there for a minute. The guy with the camera at the graveyard was on his mind.
“It must have been somebody hired to see who was at the funeral. I’m pretty sure that he got me. I was staring right into the lenses, before I realized what was going on. That means, that somebody’s probably thinking up more nasty shit for me, right now” he thought, soberly.
He started the car and drove back to his apartment. He hoped that he wasn’t too late; that no one was already waiting there.
He carefully surveyed the parked cars, along the street, as he pulled up to the curb, in the front of the building. Then, cautiously, he left the car and entered the lobby, unlocked the main door and walked up the three flights, to his apartment. He felt his stomach starting to quiver, as he slowly inserted his key into the lock and turned it. The door swung open slowly, under his gradual push, revealing a vacant hallway. He entered, reluctantly, not sure what to expect.
He looked into each of the three rooms, One by one. No one was there. Then, he went into the bedroom and took some papers from the upper desk drawer, stuffed some clothes into a suitcase, gave the place one last look and exited the apartment, as warily as he had entered.
He was a bit less anxious now. The task was almost over. He moved down the stairs, to the lobby and peered out at the waiting car. Everything looked exactly as it had been when he entered, not even one of the parked cars had moved. He quickly opened the door and walked briskly to the car, got in and drove off. He breathed a deep sigh of relief, as he did.
He went directly to the Downtown Saving and Loan and parked in its lot. He sat in the car and pulled the papers from his pocket, that he had taken from the desk drawer. Among them was his bank book. He opened it. Seven thousand, three hundred and thirty-six dollars, his life savings.
“Money for a rainy day. It’s not raining, it’s a monsoon” he thought and chuckled, sardonically.
He went into the bank and withdrew the entire amount.
It was two-thirty when he arrived at Mike’s office. He had stopped and filled the tank on the way. That was the least he could do and besides, he did keep the car a little longer than he had anticipated.
“Well, how did it go?” asked Mike without looking up from the papers on his desk.
“That depends on what you mean” Ed responded.
“It was pretty god damn depressing stuff.”
He went on to explain about the camera wielding cemetery worker and House’s visit to Angie. By the time he finished, Mike was listening intently to each and every detail of the bizarre occurrences.
“From what you’ve told me, I’d say your ass is back in the fire”’ he remarked.
“I can’t say that you didn’t warn me” Ed replied with a resigned tone, “But, I still can’t say that I’m sorry about what I’m doing. If you would have gone to that funeral and seen Angie and known, deep down inside of you, that there’s some one out there, to blame for the whole thing, you’d do the same thing as I’m doing.”
“Maybe you’re right, but I just hope you’re not really sorry before it’s all over” Mike added.
“Do me one more favor” asked Ed, “Give me a ride over to Frelinghusen Avenue.”
“I don’t think it would be too smart for me to stay in my apartment” Ed said, as they rode past dilapidated store fronts and burned out buildings of downtown Newark.
“That’s one of the first intelligent things you’ve done in weeks” commented Mike, sarcastically.
“I cashed in all my chips at the bank, this afternoon and I’ve got my suitcase in the trunk. I’m gonna find another place to stay for a while. As soon as I do, I’ll let you know where.”
“You can stay at my place” volunteered Mike.
“Now who’s being stupid. That’s the of the first places somebody would look. All I want you to do is either go over yourself or send somebody to get my mail and look everything over” Ed replied and dug into his pocket to obtain his keys. He detached two of them from the ring and handed them to Mike.
“Here’s the keys, I’ve got another set.”
Suddenly, he pointed out the window.
“Pull over here.”
A hand lettered sign, in chrome yellow spray paint read, “Used Cars - Ridin’ Beats Walkin’ Come on in and do Some Talkin’.” It hung over a small, paper littered lot, filled with an assortment of cars ten years old and older.
A windowless building, not much bigger than an outhouse, stood in the center, with its rusty metal roof and deteriorated, fiberboard siding. Smoke streamed from the crooked, galvanized pipe that protruded through one of its sidewalls.
Ed left the car, walked to the house and knocked on its unsteady door. It opened, instantaneously, to reveal an obese, black man, wearing overalls and a dirty, red ski hat.
“Doc Ed, how you been?” he bellowed in a horse deep voice. He squeezed himself through the narrow doorway of the shack and stumbled down the make shift, cinder block step. He waddled towards Ed with an out stretched hand.
“I heard there’s a lot of nasty shit been happenin’ to ya, Doc” he continued.
“What did you hear, Harold?” Ed replied.
He was sure that Harold had heard everything there was to know. News of that kind travels at the speed of light down here and Big Harold probably knew the whole story, before Ed got his first jailhouse meal. He listened patiently as Harold commiserated with him through all the details of his arrest and incarceration, in slow drawling tones.
Ed knew Harold almost from the time he started the clinic. He had saved his girlfriend’s baby, when the kid got pneumonia and since then, Harold viewed him as a minor deity. Ed tried to explain to him several times, that the miracle was in the penicillin, but he found it easier to pay homage to a person, than a vial of white, milky liquid. Eventually, Ed relented and accepted the accolades, without comment.
As Big Harold’s rehash of Ed’s encounter with the police ended, he spoke.
“I need some wheels. What have you got that runs pretty good and won’t cost me my bank book?”
“Doc, I got a real braggin’ wagon for ya. Price can’t be beat, no where. Cost ya nothin’.”
Ed wouldn’t take anything from him for free, that was for sure, but he wasn’t going to argue that point now. He followed Harold between the rows of parked cars in a zigzag path, watch him twist and squeeze through one space after another; puffing loudly as he did. Finally, they reached a dull, red eighty-three Ford sedan. It had dents and a little rust here and there, but so did every other car in the lot and most of them were much worse.
“This one’s the best I got” and he pointed to the front wheels of the car.
“Them’s brand new recaps on the front and good tires on the back. Let me get ya the key” and he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring of about fifty keys, many of them for cars long since gone. He thumbed through the ring until he found the right one and handed it to Ed.
He opened the door, got behind the wheel and turned the engine over.
“You gotta pump that pedal. This sucker ain’t been cranked for over two weeks” Harold advised.
Ed followed his instructions and the car sprang to life. The tick, tick subsided after a minute or two and it quieted to a low, healthy rumble. He shut off the motor.
“I’ll take it, how much?”
“Nothin’, man. like I told ya nothin’” snapped Harold indignantly.
The haggling back and forth began with Ed’s refusal to take the car without some payment. It ended with Harold’s reluctant acceptance of three hundred dollars.
“I need some plates for it. Do you have any old ones laying around?” Ed asked.
“Lemme see, I most likely got somethin’” replied Harold and he waddled back towards the shanty.
Mike, who was standing beside Ed, began to walk towards his own car.
“I’ll see you, Ed. I’m not suppose to see this kinda stuff” he said over his shoulder with a grin.
“I’ll get back to you as soon as I get settled” said Ed as Mike started his car. Ed took his suitcase from the trunk and walked back to the car.
Harold
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