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Hints of Darkness to Come
One morning as I scrambled for my car keys, to go fetch Dave the day’s set of newspapers (New York Times, Burlington Free Press, local Caledonian-Record, maybe the Washington Post if it looked good), I laughed and said to the Boss, “It’s like you are Nero Wolfe and I’m your Archie Goodwin!”
He didn’t think it was funny. Wouldn’t even answer me, except for a growl into his mug of fresh coffee.
A casual onlooker might have guessed Dave took offense from my mention of a classic overweight and brilliant sleuth who sent a skinny tough guy out to do his NYC errands on the way to solving any crime. Managing life at over 450 pounds made the route to breakfast into a challenge for Dave; even getting dressed could capsize him.
But the reality? I’d mentioned a crime fiction series that didn’t interest him. Nobody Jewish in it, and not anywhere near dark or violent enough. I’m no “shrink” but the contrast of this loving, courteous, insightful man with the novels that obsessed him could have triggered a noir investigation all on its own.
