"Everywhere That Mary Went" - читать интересную книгу автора (Scottoline Lisa)

11

Ifreeze. Did I leave without locking the door this morning? Is that possible?

I feel my senses heighten. I strain to hear something from inside my apartment, but there isn’t a sound. The air smells vaguely of cigarettes, but then it always does, since my landlords are smokers. The door is open wide and it looks dark inside. Alice is nowhere in sight. I can’t believe this. Someone could be in there, right now.He could be in there.

I have to get out and away. I have to call the cops. I will myself into moving. I back slowly down the staircase, easing my back along the wall, my eyes riveted to the door. If he comes out, if anybody comes out, I’ll scream like hell. I inch painstakingly downward, trying not to make any noise. The plastic bag rustles slightly as I move, and I curse having bought the answering machine.

My apartment door grows smaller and smaller at the top of the staircase, and I reach the landing. Only a short flight to go. For a fleeting moment I worry about Alice. Would he hurt her? Would hekill her? I’m surprised to feel a twinge at the thought; I didn’t know I even liked the cat. Still, I’m too frightened to go back. I’m almost at the entrance hall when I hear:

Run.

And I do, bolting out the door, down the pavement, to the pay phone two blocks away. My hands are shaking as I press 911. The woman says they’ll have a car there in five minutes.

I walk back and hover at the corner directly across from the top of my street, holding my briefcase, purse, answering machine, and mail.

Five minutes later, there’s no police.

Ten minutes later, there’s still no police, and I feel like a pack animal.

Half an hour later, the only thing that’s changed is that I’m keeping company with Marv, the man who sells tree-height ficus plants on this corner. I’ve settled into his rickety folding chair to watch the front door to my building. My fear is gone, as is the steely cold taste of panic. Both have been replaced by a low-level tension. Whoever was in my apartment is probably gone by now. I just wonder what he took and what the place looks like. And whether Alice is safe. I squint up at my apartment windows, still dark. The cat isn’t on the windowsill.

In exchange for the chair, I had to listen to Marv’s life story. He’s spent thirty years selling anything that doesn’t move-encyclopedias, bronze baby shoes, Amway detergents, and now ficus plants. He told me how he drives a U-Haul down to a Florida nursery where he buys the plants for cheap, then how he brings them up here and sells them for cheap, and how he still makes out like a bandit. The U-Haul is parked in front of his apartment. Each of the ficus trees is chained to its own parking meter. Marv owns this corner. He says, Who better?

“They ain’t comin’, Mary,” he says. “You shoulda told ’em he had a gun. They hear gun, they come. They don’t hear gun, they don’t come.”

“I didn’t see a gun. I didn’t even see a person.” I watch the door across the street, but there’s no activity at all. The few passersby don’t look inside, which tells me nothing unusual is going on.

“So you say it anyway.” He rubs a pitted cheek and looks worriedly at the sky, which is almost dark. “I’m doin’ lousy today, I tell you. Can’tgive these plants away today.”

I watch the street for the cops. “Maybe I should call them again.”

“Won’t do you no good. They don’t hear gun, they don’t come.”

“Not even for a burglary?”

“You tell ’em it was a burglary?”

“No, not exactly. I don’t know if I was burglarized. I only know the door was open and I didn’t leave that way.”

He pushes up the brim of a grimy pith helmet, part of his jungle motif. “That’swhat you told ’em?”

I nod.

“Why’d you tell ’em that?”

“Because it’s the truth.”

He bursts into laughter. “Listen to this kid! Because it’s the truth, she says! You’re a lawyer, what’s the truth to you?” He guffaws. “Mary, you hear the one about the elephant and the tiger?”

I’m in no mood for more lawyer jokes. My chin sinks into my hand as I look down my street.

“Mary?”

“No.”

He licks his lips with anticipation. “So this elephant is walkin’ along in the jungle and a tiger is walkin’ behind him. And every five feet, the elephant, you know, drops a turd. Now the tiger, he’s walkin’ behind the elephant, and he eats it.”

“Jeez, Marv.” I wince.

“No, no, listen, it’s a good one. So the elephant, he gets disgusted. He turns around to the tiger and he says, ‘Yo! Why you eatin’ my turds like that?’ And the tiger says, ‘Because I just ate a lawyer and I want to get the taste out of my mouth.’” Marv bursts into gales of laughter.

I shake my head. “That’s disgusting.”

“You like that?” he says, delighted. “Wait, wait. I got another one. What’s the difference between a porcupine and a Porsche full of lawyers?”

Suddenly, a white police car turns onto my street. The cavalry. “Finally. They’re here.” I gather up my things and scramble to my feet.

“So they came after all.”

The squad car stops in front of my building and a cop climbs out of each front door. One cop is black and one is white; they’re both square-jawed enough to be from central casting. It looks like a movie is being filmed in front of my apartment, with a racially balanced cast. But it’s not a movie, it’s my life. My apartment. My cat. “I gotta go.”

“Wait, don’t you wanna hear the punch line?”

“I have to go, Marv.”

“In a porcupine, the pricks are on theoutside.”

I’m too tense to laugh as I hurry across the street.

“Come back if you need anything!” he calls out.

“Thanks,” I call back. I hustle over to the cops, who are standing together like the twin towers. I feel slightly in awe of them, of their authority. They’re the good guys. I consider telling them the whole story. About the notes and the car.

“Do you live here?” says the black cop gravely. The nameplate on his broad chest saysTARRANT.

“Yes. I’m the one who called. I came home and saw that my apartment door was open. I was too scared to go in.”

“Was there any sign of a forced entry?”

“No. But the door was open. I know I didn’t leave it that way. I don’t know if anybody is up there still. No one’s come out since I called you. I’ve been watching the front door.”

“Is there a back door?”

“Not to my apartment. I’m on the third floor.”

“No fire escape?”

“No.”

“We’ll check it out. Do you have a burglar alarm?” Meanwhile, the white cop, namedLEWIS, is squinting up at the building. When he looks up, I can see he has braces on his teeth.

“No.”

“Is the house yours?”

“No. My landlords are away.”

“You live alone?”

“I have a cat.”

Tarrant clears his throat. “May I have your key to the front door?”

I dig in my bag again. My father’s joke is miles away. With effort, I produce the keys. “This one is to the front door. The next one is the apartment door.”

He takes the key ring by the front door key. “We’ll check it out. Please stand back and clear the door.” He throws a brawny arm in my path and guides me away from the entrance. My stomach begins to churn. In a few minutes, I’ll find out what the fuck is going on.

They leave me there and enter the building. One of my neighbors across the way, the one with the Bianchi bike, watches curiously from the window. None of the other neighbors are at the windows. The shades are drawn again in the apartment across from mine. Whoever lives there is never home. A lawyer.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Marv crossing the street and heading in my direction. I stand away from the building and look up to see if anything’s going on in my apartment. The slats in the window blinds are suddenly illuminated. The cops must be in the living room. I bite my lip.

“Did they find anything?” Marv peers up with me at the building.

“They’re still up there.”

“Don’t worry. Anything got taken, you can get replaced. It’s only money.”

“Except my cat.”

“You think they took your cat?”

“No. I’m just worried about her.”

“Me, I hate cats.”

“Me too.”

Suddenly, the window blinds are pulled up and Officer Lewis’s silhouette appears in Alice’s window. He fusses with the screen and pokes his head out briefly, then replaces it. I crane my neck to see inside the apartment, but I can’t see past the cop. He does the same to the other window.

“I wonder what he’s doing,” I say.

“Seeing how the guy broke in. I heard some guy broke into an apartment on Lombard last week. Climbed right up the front of the building to the third floor. Like a mountain climber. Like Spider-Man.”

I look up at the apartment. Two bright windows face the street, glowing from the front of the building like the eyes of a jack o’lantern. I wonder how much longer the cops will be. I wonder what they’re finding. Suddenly, Alice springs onto her windowsill and does a luxuriant stretch.

“That’s Alice! That’s my cat!” I can’t remember being so happy to see her.

“Cute,” Marv says, without enthusiasm. He frowns at the window. “You know, a girl like you, you don’t need a cat. You need a dog, for protection. Cats are good for nothing.”

Officer Lewis appears in the window behind Alice and picks her up. He makes her do a little wave at me in the window, until she leaps out of his arms.

“Look at that, Marv!”

“Very cute.”

A couple of minutes later the cops come out the front door. Lewis is sneezing almost uncontrollably. He runs by, coughing and sneezing, and leaps into the squad car. Officer Tarrant walks over to us, grinning broadly. I can’t figure out what’s going on.

“Nice cat,” he says to me.

“What happened?”

“My partner found out he’s allergic.”

I look over. The white cop is in the throes of a sneezing fit. “Is he okay?”

“Might have to shoot him.” Tarrant laughs, and so does Marv.

“What did you find upstairs?”

“It’s fine, ma’am. Everything is absolutely fine. It looks untouched.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“No one’s there or anything?”

“No.”

“It’s totally safe?”

“Unless you’re allergic to cats.” He bends down to peer into the squad car at Lewis, still hacking away.

I can’t make sense of this. “But the door was open.”

“Come on in with me. We’ll take a quick walk through and you tell me if anything is missing.” Tarrant opens the front door for me.

“Would you mind going first?”

“Age before beauty, huh?” he says, and walks ahead of me. It all seems so strange; I’ve never left the door unlocked before. When we reach the door to the apartment, he swings it open wide and we go in.

Everything looks normal. A small living room, with a paisley sofa and a scrubbed-pine coffee table. The TV is in place and the VCR under it. The stereo sits on the shelf. As usual, Alice doesn’t even look at me. I reach for her, but she jumps from my arms with a soft thud.

“This how you left it?” Tarrant asks.

“It looks the same.”

“Let’s check the bedroom.” He walks in front of me and flicks on the bedroom light. The bed’s unmade, my clothes are piled on top of the computer, and there’s a stack of paperbacks beside the bed on the floor. Neat, it’s not. But it looks like it always does.

“Take a look at your jewelry box,” he says.

I walk to my bureau obediently and look into the open jewelry box. I don’t have a lot of jewelry, but there are a few gold chains, a set of pearls, and my gold power earrings for client meetings. “Everything’s here.”

“You’re lucky. You have a lot of expensive things lying around. The TV, the VCR, the computer. You ought to think about a safety deposit box for the jewelry.”

“Did you search the whole apartment? I mean, am I alone?”

Tarrant nods. “We even checked under the bed.”

I think he intends this as a joke, but it sends a shudder up my spine.

“Like I said, you’re lucky, ma’am. I’ve seen places turned over, cleanedout. Next time make sure you lock your door.”

“You sure you looked everywhere? I mean, I’m not doubting you, it’s just that lately some weird things have been happening to me.”

“Like what?”

His eyes are a deep, friendly brown, and his manner is professional. I feel like I can trust him. I take a deep breath and let it rip.