She made her way down the hall, straightening one of the several diplomas and accolades that were hung there as she walked past. They were reminders of her life before the accident. She kept these artifacts free of dust, even though there was no one to notice them. No one really came by. At least, not anymore. As she passed through the living room, she retrieved the detectives’ half-empty cups and dropped them in the kitchen. A few lunch dishes remained, but they would have to wait. Right now, she needed to lie down.
LaVonda tightened the belt of her robe and stretched out on the couch, berating herself for spending all day on the porch like some little old lady. She was forty-six. It had been ten years since an SUV had barreled through an intersection near the Cherry Creek Mall and T-boned her, leaving her with a twisted spine and extensive nerve damage. The settlement had been adequate, it paid the rent, and for a long time she had thought she would never work again. But next week, she would start her new gig with a crisis line, taking calls from those who were reaching out for some kind of help. Some might call it volunteering; she considered it nonsalaried employment. She would matter again.
LaVonda flipped through the TV channels, waiting for her meds to kick in. She settled on Forensic Files.
The pounding at her door startled LaVonda, who was dozing lightly in front of the television. It was late — much too late for visitors. LaVonda crept to the front door in her bare feet and looked through the peephole. It was Toby.
She unlocked the door. He leaned his head against her chest. LaVonda pulled him into her and hugged him hard.
“I heard about Ronnie,” she said, as she stroked his back. “I’m really sorry.”
Toby looked up at her. He was handsome in an unkempt kind of way. His hair was too long, and when he didn’t wash it, he tied it back with a rubber band. His face was long and oval, his eyes spaced wide, his lips a little thin, but they, like his cheeks, blazed red. He was only about five foot six and he was soft — too soft. His hands were smooth and almost doughy, revealing a man who’d never done a day of hard work. Still, he went down to temp agencies on most days and usually ended up with some kind of gig. He was charming and that went a long way.
Toby pulled a crumpled pack of smokes from his pocket and waved them in front of her. LaVonda looked at the clock, then followed him onto the porch. He placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it, then passed it to her. LaVonda inhaled deeply, the smoke filling her lungs. Her entire body seemed alive. As she exhaled, a sense of relaxation coursed through her.
They smoked together silently for several moments. Toby let her have the last drag.
“Okay,” she said as she stamped the cigarette out in an ashtray on the railing, “it’s really late. You need to go home to Allie.”
“Wait. Hear me out.”
“Toby...”
“LaVonda, please.” He dropped his head and looked up at her through a veil of shaggy hair. “I have to talk to you.”
LaVonda let him take her by the hand and lead her back into the apartment. She nestled into a corner of the couch and drew her knees beneath her. “Well?”
Toby produced what looked like a fat cigar from his front pocket. He inhaled as he passed it under his nose, then proffered it to LaVonda.
She tightened her robe. “I don’t think so.”
“Come on,” Toby said, kneeling before her. “It’ll help you sleep. Just one toke.”
LaVonda sighed and shook her head. This was ridiculous — but it might help her sleep. “One toke. That’s all.”
Toby lit the blunt and LaVonda inhaled. Almost instantly, she felt warm. Her extremities began to tingle; her shoulders relaxed and her breathing deepened. She stretched out on the couch, next to the chaise where Delgado had sat, and rested her head back on her arm.
“Okay, Toby. What do you want to talk about?”
He exhaled a thick cloud of blue-gray smoke. “The cops are after me.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’ve been over to a couple of my friends’ houses. They even left a card upstairs for Allie. She won’t turn me in, though.”
LaVonda shook her head, thinking of how Allie clung to Toby as to a life raft. She was not love-smitten, she was just a woman trying to hang on to a younger man by buying his clothes and making him breakfast. Allie couldn’t understand that Toby would never love her, could never love her. He was hustling, always hustling. Allie was just a sugar momma.
“The cops were here too,” LaVonda said. “They had a picture of Ronnie.”
Toby sat beside her on the edge of the couch. “I still can’t believe it. Why’d they come to see you?”
“I think they were just canvasing the neighborhood.”
Toby stood and began stalking around the apartment. “So, what did you tell them?”
“I told them that you two were friends.”
Toby turned on his heel. “Why would you tell them that?”
“Toby, it’s no secret that you two hang together.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, squeezing next to her on the couch. “Yeah, I saw Ronnie early yesterday evening. I went over to his place, smoked a couple of blunts. Watched something loud on TV. He was fine when I left him.”
LaVonda leaned back on the couch. “Yeah, I saw you two late last night.”
“What do you mean, late last night?”
“Late. Really late,” she said. “My back was bad, so I went out to sit on the porch. It must have been after—”
Toby shook his head. “No. That’s not right. I left his house at eight. I didn’t go out with Ronnie last night.”
“Are you sure? I’m positive I saw—”
“Is that what you told the cops?”
“No. I mean, I said I saw you two together yesterday.”
“Well, after I left Ronnie’s place at eight, I was in with Allie all night. Just ask her.”
LaVonda stared at Toby for a long moment. If he wasn’t the man she saw with Ronnie, who was? The killer. She shuddered.
“Oh, LaVonda, what am I going to do?” He leaned over on his side and laid his head in her lap, burrowing into the fabric of her gown.
“If you didn’t do anything, I’m sure everything will be fine.” LaVonda felt completely relaxed. She toyed with his hair, brushing it back behind his ears, smoothing it across his forehead. She scraped her nails along his scalp. She pressed her fingers against his temples, rubbing them in firm circles.
“That’s nice,” he said, nestling his head deeper against her thighs. “That feels really nice.” He placed one hand on her knee.
She removed it. “Get a grip, Toby. I’m old enough to be your mother.”
“So?” he said, looking up her. “Maybe I like that.”
LaVonda’s mouth went dry. What does he want? I could never think of him that way. She gently pushed him from her lap and stood. “You’d best get upstairs to Allie.”
“But what if they come back?”