Chapter Thirteen
The taxi’s meter read $17.40 when we reached Kay’s shop. I told the driver to wait while I stepped inside for some money. The dogs followed me onto the streaming pavement, and the steady drizzle re-plastered my hair to skull.
Inside, Kay and a broad-shouldered man were gazing down at a blueprint spread on the sales counter. As the door opened he was saying, “—going to take all my tricks to make a space that seats over three hundred feel like a cozy English tea room. These may well be the most tasteless people who have ever bespoken my services.” At the jangle of the bell over the door, he looked over his shoulder. It was Kay’s friend Ambrose. His lips twitched as he took in my bedraggled appearance. “Ah, Louisa, how delightful to see you.”
“Um, hi. Kay, I need—” Emily Ann surged forward to greet Ambrose, pulling me and Jack with her. “Emily Ann, wait,” I said, leaning over to snap the leash from her collar and unwind it from Jack’s. Both dogs rushed to Ambrose, and Emily Ann leaned on him adoringly. Fortunately her ultra short hair didn’t hold much water and his natty clothing—today a taupe silk turtleneck and brown slacks topped with a brown tweed vest shot through with threads in amethyst, navy and emerald—was none the worse for her attentions.
Ambrose patted her enthusiastically before turning to Jack. “Well hello, you handsome boy,” he said. Jack accepted a pat on the head, then danced and bucked his way to Kay. She stooped to pick up his long ears and held them straight up. “Jack, sweetie!” she crooned. “Is he just an old bunny? Who’s the rabbit? Who’s got the bunny ears?”
“Kay, I need some—”
She dropped Jack’s ears, gave his butt a pat, and straightened to look at me. “Jeez, Lou, what the hell have you been doing?” Her eyebrows shot up. “You look like you’ve been on one of those awful TV reality shows. And lost.”
“I need seventeen dollars to pay for the cab,” I said.
“Cab? What cab? Where’s your car?”
Ambrose headed for the door. “I've got it,” he said. I started to protest. “No, no, my treat, dear Louisa,” he said. Through the window we saw him pull money from his pocket and hand it in to the cab driver. He straightened and gave a little wave, and hurried back inside.
“I'll be on my way for now,” he said to Kay. “Could you lunch on Thursday to talk more about my little project?”
She nodded. “Latish would be good for me, say one thirty. Meet at the Bluebird?”
“Wonderful. That sounds perfect. Louisa, I hope to see you again soon,” and he was out the door once more. He paused while closing the door, stuck his head back in and said, “Kay, thanks for letting the guys pick up that piece so early this morning.”
“You bet,” she said. When he was gone she turned to me. “Louisa, are you okay? You look like a drowned rat. Where is your car? Is this part of the Bob thing?”
“I'm all right, I'm just wet.”
“What happened?”
“I went to Bob’s house to see if he was back, and I looked out and saw a guy searching my car. The dogs and I ran away through the woods and we found an old barn and the guy followed us and we had to hide behind some hay bales. Then we got lost in suburbia and when I finally found a phone I called a cab and came here. What time is it, anyway?”
Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times but for once Kay was at a loss for words. “Almost eleven,” she said at last.
“No wonder I'm so hungry.” I gave an involuntary shiver. My clothes had reached a perfection of clamminess, and my shoes made little slurping noises with every move. “All I had before I left home was some juice.”
“You’re soaked through,” she fussed, reaching over to feel the sleeve of my soggy sweatshirt. “Go upstairs, take a shower and put on something dry. After that you can tell me what happened. Go on, I'll take care of the dogs.”
I obeyed, my climb up the steps to her apartment slowed by the heavy tiredness that comes after an overload of adrenalin. I went to the tiny back bedroom where I sometimes spend the night. I’d left a few clothes in the closet, and it was utter luxury to be able to grab dry jeans, a soft old cotton sweater, clean socks and underwear to change into. I stayed in the shower long enough for the hot water to loosen my neck muscles, cranking up the heat every few minutes. When I emerged Kay was at the kitchen counter constructing sandwiches, the two dogs nearby, waiting for any scraps that might fall.
My stomach gave a lurch at the sight of the food. I hurried across the room. “You may have just saved my life,” I breathed, grabbing one and talking through a big bite. I tasted Swiss cheese and toasted walnuts and a little tomato chutney.
“Well, that was easy.” She frowned at me. “Now swallow that, and tell me what is going on.”
I held up one finger as I bit off more. Chewing, I reached into a nearby cabinet for a glass, which I filled with milk. I'd never have a better day for comfort food. I took a swig, then set the glass back down. “Like I said, I went to Bob’s to see if he’d come back. I spent a few minutes checking out the house, and when I was in the kitchen Jack ran in looking scared. I looked out front and a guy was searching my car.”
“Why didn’t you call the cops?” she demanded.
I hate sentences that start out with “why didn’t you.” You’re on the defensive before you even open your mouth. “It looked like he had a gun—”
“A gun! Are you sure?”
“I thought he did. He’d tucked it into his waistband. He started toward the house, and I didn’t have time to do anything but run. We left out the back door and ran into the woods.”
She made an exasperated noise I knew well. “That’s even more reason to call the police!”
“Kay, a guy with a gun was coming to the door. I was afraid. I didn’t think of picking up the phone, I just got the hell out of there.”
“Okay, okay, I can see that. Especially after Bob took off last night. Anybody would have been spooked.”
“Exactly.”
“But even if running into the woods seemed like the right thing to do, you could have called the cops or me for that matter while you were running away. Where the hell was the cell phone I gave you?”
“It’s in the glove box of my car,” I said sheepishly.
She threw up her hands and gave a disgusted snort. “You and your thing about phones. They are useful, modern devices that can save you a great deal of trouble.”
“Okay, okay,” I tried to placate her.
“All right, sit down. I want to hear everything in more detail.” She put the other sandwich on a plate and picked it up.
“Can’t I have another sandwich?” I tried to keep the whine out of my voice. “I didn’t have any breakfast. I figured I'd go to Bob’s for two seconds and eat afterwards.”
“All right, take this one,” she said, thrusting the plate into my hands and turning back to make another for herself. I refilled my glass and took that and the plate to the table. My usual chair, to the right of Kay’s at the head of the table, had yesterday’s High Cross paper in it. I moved the paper to the recycling bin and sat down, taking another big bite. By the time I finished chewing, Kay had joined me with her sandwich, a glass of iced tea, and a crystal water glass filled with carrot sticks. I pulled one out and crunched it.
“What kind of gun was it?” she asked, picking up her tea. She sipped, waiting for my answer.
“I don’t know. A gun. It was tucked into his waistband. I've never understood why a guy would do that. Aren’t they afraid it will go off and, um, injure them?”
“Wait a minute. You said you were in the kitchen, looking toward the front of the house, and you saw him outside by your car?” I nodded and she went on. “And from that distance you could tell he had a gun in his britches?”
“When he turned toward the house I saw the sun glint off of metal. At his waist.” The more I talked the less sure I was that I had ever seen the sun glint off anything in my life. I couldn’t remember if I had said anything about the sheers still being across the windows. Nothing would drag that detail out of me now.