Off the Grid by P. J. Tracy

steer his feet. Shit. What do you think? Cancer or druggie? They look kind of alike when they hit the end stages, you know?”
    Magozzi had been seven years old when Uncle Marvin came for a visit. It was weird, that he would come without Aunt Mabel, and weirder still that he didn’t look one bit like the last time little Leo had seen him at his Ohio farm. He was real skinny, and his pants hung down over the black shoes that had walking creases in the tops and holes in the soles.
    What’s the matter with Uncle Marvin? He doesn’t even want to play dominoes. Remember when he used to play dominoes with me all the time?
    He’s sick, Leo.
    Oh. You mean like a cold or something?
    It’s a little worse than a cold. Your dad and I are going to take him down to Mayo a few times so he can get better.
    What’s Mayo?
    It’s a special hospital. A really good one. And it’s real close to us, which is why he’s going to stay with us for a while.
    Will they fix him so he wants to play dominoes again?
    That’s what we’re hoping. In the meantime, he hurts all over, and he’s pretty weak. So if he asks you to help him to the bathroom, or get him a glass of water or something, you’ll do that, won’t you?
    Sure, Mom. Uncle Marvin gave me a ride on the pony whenever I wanted one.
    I remember.
    Does he still have the pony?
    Yes. Aunt Mabel is taking care of him now.
    His mom and dad went to pick Aunt Mabel up at the bus station one day, and Leo was feeling pretty good about staying at the house with Uncle Marvin alone, like he was a babysitter or something and really grown up.
    That was the first time he’d helped Marvin to the bathroom, and the first time he’d seen a grown man’s pee-pee, and it was amazing. “Jeepers, Uncle Marvin, you’ve got the biggest ding-a-ling I ever saw.”
    Marvin sat down on the toilet then and laughed so hard that tears squirted out of his eyes, and Leo thought that was pretty cool. “You want me to help you up?”
    “No, Leo, goddamnit. Grown men don’t need help. Remember that.”
    Later he peeked around the kitchen door and saw his uncle trying to cross the room when he dropped the newspaper he’d been carrying. He just stood there watching, because grown men didn’t need help, but he felt guilty when he heard Marvin groan as he bent over, fumbling for the paper like it was the brass ring of his life. He couldn’t make himself rush over to help, because Uncle Marvin wouldn’t have liked that.
    Magozzi closed his eyes as he bent over the dead man on the sidewalk, still pissed because his mother had never told him how much pain Marvin had suffered. He’d died that night, pooping in his sheets, and Leo thought for years it was because he hadn’t helped him pick up the newspaper.
    “Cancer,” he said to Gino.
    “Either way, Riverside probably has a record. He’s either a patient or a frequent flyer at the ER looking for a hit. Dig for some ID before Crime Scene gets here all possessive.”
    Magozzi put on a fresh pair of gloves and found a wallet in the dead man’s jacket pocket. “You got a bag?”
    “I do.” Gino looked at the name and picture on the driver’s license. “Joseph Christopher Hardy. Jesus, Leo. The poor guy looks a hundred, but he was only thirty-two.”
    “Cancer will do that to you.”
    “He doesn’t live too far from here if this address is current.” Gino started thumbing through the mass of papers guys always tuck in the bill section of their wallets. “I got an IN CASE OF EMERGENCY card. Contact is Beth Hardy, and I’m guessing this is her.” He held out a small photo of a pretty woman standing in front of a waterfall. “There’s a doctor’s card in here, too. Oncology at Riverside.”
    “That’ll help.” Magozzi glanced down at the weapon laying loose in the dead hand. “He brought a gun, Gino. Why the hell would a cancer patient bring a gun to the hospital?”
    “Are you kidding? Look around. I’d bring a weapon to have lunch in this