Harvey Porter Does Dallas (14 page)

“Yeah, I remember.”

“You remember those funny crinkly wrinkles on those old yellowed newspapers?”

“I remember. Why?”

“Well, your theory might be right,” she answered. “He might have gone there to hide out from his bosses, but he might have been … he might have been.… how can I put this? He might have been pleasuring himself down there.”

“Ya think?” asked Harvey. “Didn't I say that in the first place?”

“Okay,” she had to admit, “but let's think about it a minute. If Oswald went down there for that reason, he might have had his Kennedy assassination all plotted out. Maybe he thought he would get killed afterwards, or at least put in prison for a long time. Maybe he wanted to save some in a sperm bank.”

“You mean, like, for his wife? Did he have a wife?”

“Yes he did, and they had two kids before he died. Her name was Marina. A lot of the time they weren't living together. She was from Russia.”

Harvey was astonished. “Carmelita, how do you know so much stuff about this?”

“I already told you before. I went to regular schools all my life and—” she brought her face up close to his with her eyes open very wide open to add—“and
I did my homework
.”

Harvey decided it might be time to bring Victor completely into the fold. “What does he know?” asked Carmelita.

“He's seen the paper. He didn't know what to make about it. It was Victor who came up with the sperm bank idea.”

“Does he know about our trips up to sixth floor?”

“I've never told him about that. I didn't tell Oboe Meel about it either. But I showed him the list.”

“You showed the list to
him?
Are you crazy?”

“Maybe so. But Oboe knew the meaning of the list right away.”

“What is it?” asked Carmelita breathlessly. “Please, you've got to tell me.”

“I'll tell you,” said Harvey, patting her shoulder. “According to Professor Meel the list is a bunch of places where Lee Harvey Oswald lived. Either him or members of his family.”

“That's all there is to it?”

“That's all, but he also said if the list was really written by Oswald it would be worth a lot of money.
A lot
.”

“How much money?” she asked eagerly.

“We can't say for sure Victor put it on eBay to see if we could auction it there, but we got an e-mail back from them. They want to know if we can auth—authorize—auth—”

“Authenticate. Is that the word you're looking for?”

“Right! That's it! We have to have a way to prove Oswald wrote it.”

“That would take a recognized hand-writing expert, and he'd have to have a sample of Oswald's writing.”

Oh God
, Harvey thought.
Now I'll probably have to steal a glass cutter from somewhere and go up there and grab one of the letters from the exhibits
. But he said, “Wait here. I'll see if I can find Victor.”

He crossed the street and went inside the lobby. Victor wasn't hard to find, but then he never was. He was sitting in a lounge chair, reading the Al Capone book. He was very studious.

“Victor, take a break. I want you to come with me across the street. Carmelita and I have somethin' we want to talk over with you.”

“Carmelita Villanueva?” asked Victor, getting to his feet quickly and dropping the book on his chair.

“Yeah. We need to talk about this whole Oswald list stuff. We need to have all three of us knowin' the same stuff.”

“If you said Carmelita Villanueva, you don't have to ask me twice,” said Victor. He made a break for the door and actually got there much before Harvey.

Harvey filled him in briefly as they walked swiftly across the street. As soon as they got to the bench, Victor said to Carmelita, “You guys went up on sixth floor?”

“Yes,” she answered with a smile. “Two times actually. Pretty cool don't you think?

“It's
unbelievably
cool. It's even way beyond cool.”

“We even found a trapdoor with a hidden chamber.”

“You didn't tell me that part, Harv.”

“We were walkin' too fast. I didn't have time to tell it all.”

“Wow. Sixth floor. What was it like?”

“It was hot and dirty and dusty,” said Carmelita. “They don't have it cleaned up yet for the public.”

“That outside elevator won't be finished until the end of the year. I guess they're not in any hurry to get it polished up.”

“Even the glass on the exhibits was all dusty,” Carmelita added.

“President Kennedy's pictures were all dusty?”

“Not the pictures; just the glass in front of them.”

Harvey interrupted. “Victor, Carmelita thinks your sperm bank theory might have somethin' to it.”

“Well,” said Vice, frowning and thinking, “Maybe Oswald had his assassination all planned out, but he knew he could die when it happened or spend lots of years in prison.”

“That's just what Carmelita said!” exclaimed Harvey.

“Actually, it's even kind of logical.”

“So what d'we do?” Harvey asked.

“I'd say we better check the yellow pages for sperm banks.”

16. ASA BARNACLE'S APOTHECARY SHOP

They went about the search on Monday afternoon, the next day. In the lounge, they searched the yellow pages for “sperm banks”. There were three listed. One was at the Baylor University Medical Center.

“That's out on Gaston Avenue,” said Victor. “Probably about the 3000 block.”

“How do you know that?” asked Carmelita.

“He knows where everything is,” Harvey told her. “He's really good with directions.”

“There's another one at St. Paul Medical Center,” said Harvey.

“That's way out on Harvey Hines Boulevard.”

The third listing was the weirdest. It was called Barnacle's Apothecary & Notions shop. “What's
apothecary
mean?” Harvey asked.

“It's an old fashioned name for drug store.”

“Okay, so what does
notions
mean?”

“It's kind of like a gift shop,” said Carmelita. “You know, things like small gifts, knick-knacks, jewelry, that sort of thing.”

“Oh great. That's just great.”

“Hey,” she said, “I like that kind of stuff.”

“But why,” Harvey asked, “would it be here under sperm banks?”

Victor was shaking his head. “I have no idea. It just sounds nuts.”

Harvey used Victor's cell phone to make the first call, to the Baylor University Medical center. When a woman answered the phone, he said, “I would like to talk to the sperm bank.”

“Please hold while I transfer your call.”

Another woman picked up and said, “This is Nurse Gould. How may I help you?”

“Have you got a list of your donors?”

“Well, we have all of our holdings in our computer system.”

“I'd like to come out and have a look at your list. How would that be?”

“For what purpose?”

“I'm just curious I guess.”

“Young man, are you over 21?”

“Who, me? Not even close. Why?”

“Then I'm afraid I can't show you anything. This is a certified sperm bank, not a baseball card shop. All of our information in our system is strictly private.”

“Okay, what if I was 21? Then what?”

“Even then you'd have to fill out an application form that meets with our staff approval.”

“That's it, then?”

“I'm afraid so,” said Nurse Gould, hanging up.

Harvey reported the conversation to Carmelita and Victor. “That's about what I expected,” said Victor.

“It's a bummer though,” said Harvey. Then he called the St. Paul Medical Center. The conversation was nearly identical to the one he'd had with Baylor. He turned off the phone. “I think we're at the dead end,” he said.

“But what about Barnacle's shop?”

“That just sounds crazy.”

“I'd still like to see it,” said Carmelita. “Even if it's not what we want.”

“It's not far,” said Victor. “It's just over here on Grand Avenue.”

“Let's go, Harv, come on.”

“Oh okay. But it sounds like lost-cause city, know what I mean?”

“Well, it wouldn't take long to find out,” Victor pointed out.

“Oh good! Maybe I can find a necklace or a ring.”

“What the hell?” said Harvey. “Maybe they'll even tattoo you.”

“I've already got two tattoos, I don't intend to get any more.”

“Where are they?”

“In places you'll never see,” she smiled.

God help me
, Harvey thought.

In the comfort of the Lexus, they glided all the way to Barnacle's Apothecary and Notions shop. It was in a very old brick building which was also narrow. There was an alley next to it.

They pushed the front door open, which caused a bell to ring. It was dark and musty inside, because no lights were on and the small windows were too filthy to let in much light. The crooked old floorboards were worn. They were even wavy. Display cases were dusty.

Right away, Carmelita started looking at the woven handbags and the stained-glass sun catchers. “What are those?” asked Harvey.

“They're sun catchers,” she answered. “Haven't you ever seen them before?”

“I don't think so. What are they good for?”

“Well, you use this suction cup here and stick it on one of your windows. When the sun shines through the stained glass, it's real pretty.”

Harvey didn't have much interest. An old pudgy woman with her white hair tied in a bun came bouncing up. She was small, but very bouncy. “Those are all hand-made,” she told Carmelita, “by actual Indians. Most of them come from over around Nacogdoches.”

“Oh yeah?” Carmelita replied with a smile.

Harvey asked her, “Are you Mrs. Barnacle?”

“I am.”

“Well it said in the yellow pages this place was a sperm bank.”

“We used to be in that business too,” answered Mrs. Barnacle, whose first name was Nelda. “I don't know why they keep listing us there. About 20 years ago, the state of Texas came up with a whole new set of rules and regulations. We just didn't have all the money the big hospitals have. The rules and regulations were too expensive; there's no way we could have afforded it. You'd have to talk to my husband to get any more information on that.”

“You mean Asa?” Victor asked. He was looking through an old book. On that side of the store were huge book cases filled with old, worn-out looking books.

“Yes,” said Nelda Barnacle with a smile as well as a look of surprise. “How did you know that?”

“Well, his name is right there in the yellow pages, Asa Barnacle.”

“Of course,” she laughed. “I should have known. But do come back and meet him. Maybe he'll have better information about the sperm bank history.”

What's the point?
Harvey asked himself.
If they're out of the business, why should I talk to Asa?
But he followed her anyway, as she bounced her way to the back of the store. It was even darker here, but Asa Barnacle had a desk lamp on. He was doing some paperwork. He was old and thin and very white.

“Asa, this young man would like to talk to you about our old sperm bank. What's your name, young man?”

“Harvey Porter.”

“Harvey, meet Asa.” Asa Barnacle pushed his glasses back up on his nose before he stood up to shake Harvey's hand. The hand was cold. Asa was old and tall, but he kind of hunched his shoulders. He had the habit of rubbing his long white hands together as he spoke. His voice was soft. He said, “I suppose Nelda told you why we were forced out of that business.”

“Yeah, she did.” The longer Harvey looked at him, the more he looked like an older, male version of Ingrid Finch. Except he was low-key when he talked, and most important of all, he smelled good. He smelled like incense.

Nelda left them to go back to the front of the store where Victor and Carmelita were still examining jewelry and old books. She figured if there were any actual buyers in this group, it would be these two and not Harvey Porter.

Asa Barnacle told Harvey, “We just couldn't afford to meet all the new state regulations. I've only got a couple of dozen vials left, and they're down the basement.”

“You have some left?” asked Harvey.

“It's like I said. Just a few.”

“Do you have a list of the donors?”

Asa rubbed his hands a little faster. “No, but all the vials are labeled with names. They're even dated.”

“Oh yeah?” Harvey was only slightly interested.

“If you'd like, I could take you downstairs and show you.”

Harvey shrugged. “Oh well, why not? It couldn't hurt.”

Asa pulled on an overhead light chain so they could see their way. Harvey followed him slowly, since that's how Asa was walking. When they got to the bottom of the stairs, Asa pulled another light bulb chain so they could find their way.

It was the basement Harvey expected: Cool, damp, clammy, and lots of mildew on the walls. The floor was uneven, dirty concrete. On the far wall was a chest-style freezer. He noticed there was another pull-chain light bulb just above it. You practically had to fight your way through all the cobwebs.

“Were you looking for anything in particular?” asked Barnacle as he headed across the room.

“Well, yeah,” Harvey admitted. “But it's kind of like, well,
embarrassing
, know what I mean?”

“Oh don't be embarrassed,” said Barnacle, smiling for the first time. He had a lot of missing teeth. “I'm kind of embarrassed for hanging on to these things over so many years. Just tell me what you were looking for.”

“Okay,” said Harvey, and he just blurted it out: “I was lookin' for a Lee Harvey Oswald specimen. I know that sounds pretty bogus.”