The Accidental Pallbearer by Frank Lentricchia

sent me over. Didn’t realize you were still working here.”
    “How are you, Mr. Conte?”
    “Pretty well. You?”
    “Just fine, thank you. To what do I owe this delightful surprise?”
    “Strictly business, and I’m afraid it has nothing to do with Hawthorne and Melville.”
    “Oh? Would it be detective work?”
    “I’m afraid I’m here in a professional capacity and need to ask you to keep our conversation in strictest confidence, if you wouldn’t mind.”
    Janice feels the thrill of adventure. When did she last? Perhaps she’ll help this impressive man pursue a criminal investigation? Be his affectionate sidekick – he looks to her like he could use some affection.
    “I fear that I’m interrupting your work, Janice –”
    “Not at all. Please come in and sit down.”
    “Good. I’d like to jog your memory about a tenant you took in fifteen years ago, who stayed with you for eight years, I believe. Jed Kinter.”
    “Really? Why, he was so quiet. No trouble at all, but I suppose those are the people – what has he done?”
    “As far as I know, nothing at all. I’m interested, if you can remember, in the impression he made on you.”
    “Well, quiet, as I stated. No trouble. Nothing interesting, shall we say, Mr. Conte. Nothing impressive to make an impression.” She resists a wink on “interesting.” She finds herself suddenly witty and attractive. “He was taking night classes over at Mohawk Valley Community, they must have been journalism classes, because he got that job at the paper. No, that’s not right. Come to think of it, he had that job at the paper when he moved in.”
    “Did you ask for a reference?”
    “He gave us a name in Providence, Rhode Island. Please sit, Mr. Conte! A phone number, which I called. A man with an Italian name, I can’t remember it, and a cold voice, I remember that, who said that Jed was a serious person, a man of honor, who could be trusted. That was good enough for me. He seemed nice enough and we needed the money at the time because my husband – oh, I won’t speak ill of him.”
    “Did he have visitors?
    “I don’t think any except for one, not long after he moved in. I’m sure of the time frame.”
    “Why is that, Janice?”
    “Jed moved in August first in that record heat wave, you recall that, I’m sure. You don’t!? Over a hundred degrees every day for sixteen days and the old folks without A/C dropping like flies. How could anyone forget, unless you didn’t live around here then?”
    “I lived here, but at the time I was in Austria, for the Salzburg Festival. I heard about the terrible heat upon my return around the first of September.”
    Conte remembers something else about that record hot August. While in Austria, he’d missed the biggest moment in Utica history since George Washington stopped through. Jed Kinter, with his Philadelphia-Providence pedigree, a serious man of honor, the voice had told Janice, was in Utica when the infamous action went down.
    “A whole month in Austria listening to the sound of music! The hills are alive and whatnot! How nice for you!”
    “It was sublime, Janice.”
    “What did you enjoy most?”
    “They did lots of Mozart and Strauss, which I like well enough, but that production of
Don Carlo
–”
    “Verdi’s
Don Carlo
?”
    “The very, Janice, but if you wouldn’t mind, could we get back to that visitor? Forgive my officiousness.”
    “Of course! Let’s follow the scent, Detective! I’ll tell you why this visitor was unforgettable. Here it was, one hundred and eight degrees, and he comes out of Jed’s apartment dressed in a black suit! That’s mentally strange, if you ask me. Did he think, the fool! that black would ward off the sun and heat and humidity? I can see him like it was yesterday.”
    “Can you describe him?”
    “That’s easy! I see him in contrast to Jed, who I recall as slight, short and with a very fair complexion, and nice looking in a risky way, whereas this man dressed