The Rock 'N Roll Detective's Greatest Hits - a Spike Berenger Anthology (17 page)

“Yeah. I saw ‘em a couple of times in LA before I moved here. Once they were on the same bill with Talking Heads. That was a great show.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Gosh, I was, what, eleven years old? My sister and I went to see them and it was fabulous.”

“Hey, how are your parents doing?”

“They’re fine. They still love Southern California. They keep asking me if I’m ever gonna move back there. I tell ‘em ‘no.’”

“I guess they weren’t too happy when you left home before you were eighteen, huh?”

“You can say that again. As soon as I finished high school, I was gone. Candy had already come east so I stayed with her in that ratty apartment she had in Brooklyn. Since I was staying with my sister my parents didn’t mind too much. Little did they know I went out and got that apartment in the East Village a month later. I guess my parents thought maybe Candy’d be a good influence on me.”

“Oh, right, I remember. You were a juvenile delinquent when you were a teenager,” Berenger said, smiling.

“Yeah, I was a really bad girl, can you believe it? I was always getting in trouble. I damn near didn’t finish high school. I wanted to drop out but the court wouldn’t let me. That was part of the terms of the plea bargain—I had to finish high school and straighten up my act."

Berenger shook his head. It was hard to imagine the smart, completely together woman beside him sitting in a jail cell—which is what happened to her when she was fifteen years old. A boyfriend had talked her into stealing a car and going for a joy ride with him. Drugs were involved and the pair was caught.

“Whatever happened to, what was his name…?”

“Jerry?”

“Yeah.”

“Hell if I know. Mom and dad wouldn’t let me see him anymore after we got busted. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s in prison somewhere. I was a bad girl at the time but he was a whole lot badder.”

“Well, Suzanne, I must say I think you turned out all right. Look at you now. You’re one of the nicest bad girls I know.”

She slapped him on the arm. “Oh, stop.”

On the way into Long Island, Berenger filled her in on his mother’s condition and what to expect.

“I’m sure it’s hard for you,” she said. “I’m thankful my folks are still okay.”

“When’s the last time you saw them?”

“I went to LA a couple of years ago, remember? But it’s been too long. I need to go see them more often. They’re not getting any younger.”

“How’s your sister doing?”

“Candy’s fine. I’ll need to head up to Toronto sometime soon too and see my new nephew.”

“How many does that make?”

“Two nephews and a niece. My sister’s the Fertile Goddess of the Yukon or something like that.”

“Do I detect a little bitterness in your voice?”

“What do you mean?” She looked at him sideways.

“Are you sorry you’re not married and having babies?”

“Are you out of your mind? I’m not ready for that. No way. The beauty of being an aunt is that I can hold the babies for a little while and then give ‘em back. That’s good enough for me.”

“Aw, Suzanne, you’d make a great mom,” Berenger said.

“Too late for that now, Spike. My biological clock stopped ticking a couple of years ago.”

“I don’t believe that. You’re, what, thirty-five?”

“Thirty-
eight
.”

“You could still get pregnant.”

“Why, are you volunteering or something?” She jabbed him in the side.

He shrugged. “I seem to remember us fitting together pretty good.”

“Yeah, but that was over ten years ago.”

“So? We haven’t changed that much.”

“What is this, Spike, are you flirting with me? I thought this was a business date.”

“It is. I’m just saying you could still go for motherhood if you really wanted it. Women a lot older than you have had healthy kids.”

“Okay, okay, now let’s change the subject.”

They spoke about numerous topics, including other employees at Rockin’ Security, the absurdity of the country’s foreign policy, the merits of the newest CDs they had purchased recently, and what current films were worth seeing. By the time they reached Franklin Village in Hempstead, they were on to whether or not Madonna would be as lasting a sex symbol as Marilyn Monroe.

Berenger led Suzanne inside the building, signed in, and followed the corridors to the Neighborhood, where his mother now resided. Betty Samuels caught up with them, saying, “Mister Berenger, I’m glad you made it before I left for the day.”

“Hello Mrs. Samuels. You remember my colleague Suzanne Prescott?”

The two women shook hands.

“How’s my mom?” he asked.

“She’s fine but I must warn you she’s a little agitated about the move. We brought her to the new room this afternoon after a leisurely walk through the mall. She enjoyed shopping, even though she didn’t buy anything nor showed any desire to do so, and we had a nice snack at one of the bakeries there. She kept talking about you, I’m happy to say, although she believes you’re still in college.”

Berenger chuckled. “I wish.”

“She also mentioned a dog named Birdie. At least I think it was a dog.”

“Right. Birdie was her Irish Setter she owned, gosh, when I was a kid.”

“Well, she kept asking about Birdie, wondering if she was all right.”

“Oh dear. Birdie’s been dead for thirty years.”

“I figured as much. At any rate, your mother did notice she was in a new room, even though it looks exactly the same as her old one.”

“Well, she’s pretty bright. I can’t believe the disease has progressed so rapidly that she wouldn’t realize she’d been moved.”

“Yes, that’s probably true. Anyway, it’s a lovely room. The only difference is she won’t have the run of the building now. She’ll get used to it.”

“I’m sure she will.”

Mrs. Samuels showed him how to punch in the special code on the keypad to get into the Neighborhood—a precaution to keep the residents inside. They found Ann Berkowitz in the television room, where she and three other residents were watching
Chicago
on video.

“Hi, mom,” Berenger said. “How are you this evening?”

She looked up and said, “Spike! You finally came!”

“Sure, I told you I’d come this evening.”

“You have to get me out of here. Something’s different. Nothing’s the same.”

“They moved you into a new room, mom. Don’t you like it?”

“No. None of my things are in there.”

“What do you mean? All your stuff is in there. They moved everything you have into the new room. Hey, you remember Suzanne? She came to see you too.”

“Hi, Mrs. Berkowitz,” Suzanne said. She leaned down and gave the woman a kiss on the cheek.

“Of course I remember my daughter-in-law,” the woman said. “How are you, dear? How are the children?”

“Mom, Suzanne’s not your daughter-in-law. Suzanne’s a colleague of mine. She works where I work.”

“Oh? Does that mean you’ll be getting married soon?”

“No, mom. Suzanne’s a friend.”

“Dear me, what am I thinking? I’m being silly. You’re already married,” Mrs. Berkowitz said.

“Nope, mom, wrong again. I used to be married but that was a long time ago. Linda was my wife but we got a divorce.”

Mrs. Berkowitz shook her head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t remember things like I used to.” She looked at Suzanne and proclaimed, “I graduated in the top ten of my class!”

“That’s very impressive, Mrs. Berkowitz,” Suzanne said and smiled at Berenger.

“So are you going to get married again?” Mrs. Berkowitz asked her son. “It would be nice to have some grandkids.”

“You do have grandkids, mom. Michael and Pam. Remember? They’ll be coming to see you soon, I’m sure. And don’t forget Judy, Bill, and Davey—Carl’s kids. They live in California. They’re your grandkids too.”

“Oh, yes, Carl. I haven’t seen Carl in the longest time. I’m going to have to tell Abe to take me to see Carl.”

Berenger and Suzanne exchanged looks. Uh oh.

“Where is Abe?” Mrs. Berkowitz asked. “Isn’t he supposed to pick me up soon?”

“Mom, Abe died, remember?”

“But I just talked to him on the phone. He’s supposed to pick me up. We’re going to the theatre.”

Berenger decided to try something. “Mom, do you remember
my
dad? Daniel?”

Mrs. Berkowitz scrunched her face. “Daniel. The name sounds familiar. You say he was your father?”

“Yeah. You were married to him before you were married to Abe.”

“I was?”

“Uh huh. That’s how come you’re my mom!”

She laughed at that. “Oh, you’d still be my son no matter who your father is. How is Daniel?”

Sheesh, Berenger thought. “Well, Daniel died, too.”

“My, my, we’re dropping like flies. At least I still have Abe.”

It was hopeless. They tried to steer her onto other topics and eventually got her to show them the new room. Mrs. Samuels was right—it looked exactly like the old one. Berenger made sure his mom had plenty of toilet paper in the bathroom and checked to see that her laundry had been done. Then they sat in the room for a half-hour and looked at old photo albums. Mrs. Berkowitz kept going back to pictures of her Irish Setter.

“Birdie was a good dog,” she said. “I hope she’s happy.”

“I’m sure she is, mom.”

After a while, Mrs. Berkowitz showed signs of being tired. One of the staff nurses came in to help her get ready for bed, so Berenger and Suzanne said good night.

“I’ll be back to see you soon, mom,” he said. He gave her a hug and a kiss and quickly walked out of the Neighborhood. Suzanne quickly said goodbye and had to rush to catch up with him.

Outside, Berenger wiped a tear from his face.

“Spike, are you all right?” Suzanne asked.

“Yeah. Sorry. It’s just hard to believe she could have deteriorated so quickly.”

“I know. It’s a horrible disease.”

Suzanne gave him a hug and he squeezed her like a bear. When he finally released her, Berenger said, “Come on. It’s time to rock ‘n’ roll.”

They walked to the Altima and drove back to the city in silence.

M
ortimer’s was a relatively new club in West Greenwich Village, a rock ‘n’ roll venue established to compete with the older, more well-known jazz clubs like the Blue Note and Village Vanguard. The acts ran the gamut from unknowns and local groups to big name talent. Mortimer’s opening night featured none other than Eric Clapton. The place had rapidly become a hot spot and tickets were difficult to come by even when no one famous was playing there.

But Berenger had connections. The owner, Matthew Eisenberg, was a temperamental but savvy promoter who poured his life savings into creating the club and it paid off. When Berenger managed bands in the eighties, he had worked with Eisenberg on several occasions to book his groups in the New York area. Eisenberg nearly lost his shirt when he tried to put on a festival
a la
Woodstock and Berenger had helped bail him out with a loan and providing some acts at the last minute when a headliner cancelled. Eisenberg was forever in Berenger’s debt.

“Spike! Suzanne!” the entrepreneur shouted when he saw them. Eisenberg was bald, thin, and wore glasses with dark, thick frames. Despite the nerdy appearance, Berenger knew the man to be sharp and unscrupulous in his business dealings. He was well respected in the industry.

Eisenberg gave Berenger and hug and a slap on the back and then pecked Suzanne on the cheek. “You should have let me know you were coming! The place is packed.”