“Wednesday morning at oh-five-hundred if I put a device in his hand by Tuesday night. After Tuesday, the play changes—interception on the road or, worst case, the wedding itself.”
I looked at the whiteboard. We had three names and a consultant’s casualty estimate. Cabot was inside the house at noon yesterday. Henry was in a body bag at the medical examiner’s office on Albany Street.
We knew what was going to happen, but we didn’t have enough for a judge to sign off.
Eamon excused himself and left. I went down the back stairs to the kitchen, needing another mug of coffee.
Wiley was at the counter beside Samuel with a bag of carrots and a paring knife. Samuel had a pan on the burner and was reaching past Wiley for the salt. Cabot was at the table with a bowl of soup in front of him and a piece of bread on a plate beside it.
“Tell him about the maple,” Samuel said.
Wiley shook his head. “He doesn’t want to hear about the maple.”
“He absolutely wants to hear about the maple. Stanley, do you want to hear about the maple?”
Cabot looked up from his soup. “What maple?”
“There is a sugar maple on the corner of our block,” Wiley said, “that the city has been threatening to take down for two years. Samuel has been writing letters.”
“I have been writing reports,” Samuel said. “Wiley calls them letters.”
“He sends them on Northeastern letterhead and signs themSamuel Conklin, MLA, Associate Professor of Landscape Architecture.They are letters.”
“They are reports with a signature block.”
Wiley turned to Cabot. “He had me drive him to the city archive in October to look up the original planting record. They planted the tree in nineteen thirty-one. There is a piece of paper in a basement on Washington Street with a man’s signature on it from before the Second World War. Samuel sent a photocopy to the city arborist with a note.”
“What did the note say?” Cabot asked.
“It saidPlease find attached the date of planting,”Samuel said. “That was the entire note.”
“He sent it from the archive,” Wiley said. “He stood in the basement on Washington Street and emailed it to a city employee at nine-forty on a Tuesday morning. I saw an expression of triumph on his face.”
“I was triumphant. They postponed the removal hearing until January. It is a magnificent tree,” Samuel said.
“I agree. It is an excellent tree.”
“It will outlive both of us if they let it be.”
Wiley resumed cutting the carrots.
I had been standing in the doorway long enough to be noticed.
“Dane,” Wiley said, “come in or leave. The doorway is for traffic, not loitering.”
“Unfortunately, I’ll have to leave as soon as I grab some coffee.”
“Take the bread with you. Samuel made too much.”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“Take it anyway.”
Samuel was already wrapping a slice in a square of parchment from the drawer beside the stove. He set it in my hand without ceremony.
“Eat it on the stairs,” Wiley said.
I was on my way to the front parlor when Michael called.