The House on Alexandrine

Chapter 19

WENCEL'S "Cantata for Mixed Voices, Tape Recorder and Percussion" was to be performed Wednesday night, December 19. Although finished the previous summer, he was still working on the tape, removing certain sounds, changing a squeak to a squawk. Since October he had been rehearsing the soprano, alto, bass and percussionist until they were probably ready to quit. Wencel wanted every sound to be exact by Tuesday night which was the last rehearsal. Helen didn't go that night. Having heard the piece often, she decided to stay home. She was looking forward to a quiet evening. But at nine o'clock the telephone rang. It was a nurse at Ford Hospital. She said that Orlo had been admitted in critical condition. Wencel and Helen should come at once. Corbin was coming up the sidewalk with Isaac and Duane, when Helen came tearing out of the house. They had been to a restaurant in Greektown which Duane liked more for the green parrot in the window than for the food. Corbin had bought them dinner in an attempt to make up for Harvey Lyle. Helen told them about Orlo. "I've got to get Wencel right away." Corbin offered to drive and Helen accepted. It was a cold night, about fifteen degrees. Helen and Duane crowded into back seat. Isaac sat in the front. They all assumed that Orlo had had a heart attack. As Corbin drove over to the music building, Duane tried to be comforting, "Mr. MacDonald, he's a farmer in Glenorchy, he had a heart attack when he was plowing and he fell off his tractor and broke his arm, but he got better and now he's farming just like always or at least he was last summer. And my Dad, he's had a couple of heart attacks but he doesn't like people to know." But Helen wasn't so worried about Orlo's health as the effect it would have on the performance of Wencel's Cantata. Corbin thought she suspected 211 2 1 2 T H E H O U S E O N A L E X A N D R I N E Orlo of purposefully having the attack in order to draw attention away from her husband. Reaching the music building, Corbin double-parked and Helen ran inside. They had to wait about fifteen minutes since Helen hadn't wanted to interrupt the end of the rehearsal. The heater in the Volkswagen barely worked and Corbin's feet were freezing in no time. At nine thirty Wencel came hurrying down the sidewalk. He still carried his small white baton. Helen followed carrying his overcoat. Isaac got out and Wencel and Helen climbed into the back with Duane. Wencel had to fold up like a jackknife. Helen sat on his lap. Corbin drove as fast as he could. Ford Hospital was a tall imposing building set back from Grand Boulevard and surrounded by trees and shrubbery. The emergency entrance was around to the right in a dreary, one-story annex with large windows filled in with glass brick. It looked like a Third Avenue bar. Two armed guards stood by the entrance. Corbin parked and they went inside. The lobby of the emergency room had the clean smell of tidy machines. It was packed with people who kept being told they couldn't stand in this place or that place. Wencel tried to get information from a nurse at the desk. Corbin heard him saying, "But you called me, you called me." Seeing Duane, Corbin felt it had been wrong to bring him. He was pressed back against a green wall, staring around him. Apparently there had been a traffic accident. Two women were arguing about who was at fault. It was a long room, actually a wide hallway with little rooms off to both sides. A man and two women were lying on stretchers lined up along the right wall. The man's face was covered with blood. He was an elderly man and balding. The blood made it look as if he had red hair. He kept moaning and twisting back and forth. One of the women appeared dead. Her face had that pasty quality. She was overweight and middle-aged. Her hair was dark brown and piled high on her head in little curls, hundreds of little curls. She must have spent most of the day at the beauty parlour with only Ford Hospital as her...