"The meateasy?"
"Yes, but if you don't eat anything it's not expensive. It's just the food that costs. I met some people I knew and we talked, they were going to a party and invited me and I went along. We were watching news about the riots on TV and no one wanted to go out, so the party just went on and on." She paused. "That's all."
"All?" An angry question, a dark suspicion.
"That's all," she said, and her voice was now as cold as his.
She turned her back to him and began to pull off her dress, and their words lay like a cold barrier between them. Andy dropped onto the bed and turned his back on her as well so that they were like strangers, even in the tiny room.
Spring
The funeral drew them together as nothing else had during the cold depths of the winter. It was a raw day, gusting wind and rain, but there was still a feeling that winter was on the way out. But it had been too long a winter for Sol and his cough had turned into a cold, the cold into pneumonia, and what can an old man do in a cold room without drugs in a winter that does not seem to end? Die, that was all, so he had died. They had forgotten their differences during his illness and Shirl had nursed him as best she could, but careful nursing does not cure pneumonia. The funeral had been as brief and cold as the day and in the early darkness they went back to the room. They had not been back half an hour before there was a quick rapping on the door. Shirl gasped. "The callboy. They can't! You don't have to work today." "Don't worry. Even Grassy wouldn't go back on his word about a thing like this. And besides, that's not the callboy's knock."
"Maybe a friend of Sol's who couldn't get to the funeral." She went to unlock the door and had to blink into the darkness of the hall for a moment before she recognized the man standing there.
"Tab! It is you, isn't it? Come in, don't stand there. Andy, I told you about Tab my bodyguard. "
"Afternoon, Miss Shirl," Tab said stoically, staying in the hall. "I'm sorry, but this is no social call. I'm on the job now."
"What is it?" Andy asked, walking over next to Shirl.
"You have to realize I take the work that is offered to me," Tab said. He was unsmiling and gloomy. "I've been in the bodyguard pool since September, just the odd jobs, no regular assignments. We take whatever work we can get. A man turns down a job, he goes right back to the end of the list. I have a family to feed. "
"What are you trying to say?" Andy asked. He was aware that someone was standing in the darkness behind Tab and could tell by the shuffle of feet that there were others out of sight down the hall.
"Don't take no guff," the man in back of Tab said in an unpleasant nasal voice. He stayed behind the bodyguard where he could not be seen. "I got the law on my side. I paid you. Show him the order!"
"I think I understand now," Andy said. "Get away from the door, Shirl. Come inside Tab, so we can talk to you."
Tab started forward and the man in the hall tried to follow him. "You don't go in there without me—" he shrilled. His voice was cut off as Andy slammed the door in his face.
"I wish you hadn't done that," Tab said. He was wearing his spike-studded iron knuckles, his fist clenched tight around them.
"Relax," Andy said. "I just wanted to talk to you alone first, find out what was going on. He has a squat-order, doesn't he?"
Tab nodded, looking unhappily down at the floor.
"What on earth are you two talking about?" Shirl asked, worriedly glancing back and forth at their set expressions.
Andy didn't answer and Tab turned to her. "A squat-order is issued by the court to anyone who can prove they are really in need of a place to live. They only give so many out, and usually just to people with big families that have had to get out of some other place. With a squat-order you can look around and find a vacant apartment or room or anything like that, and the order is sort of a search warrant. There can be trouble, people don't want to have strangers walking in on them, that kind of thing, so anyone with a squat-order takes along a bodyguard. That's where I come in; the party out there in the hall, name of Belicher, hired me."
"But what are you doing here?" Shirl asked, still not understanding.
"Because Belicher is a ghoul, that's why," Andy said bitterly. "He hangs around the morgue looking for bodies."
"That's one way of saying it," Tab answered, holding on to his temper. "He's also a guy with a wife and kids and no place to live, that's another way of looking at it."
There was a sudden hammering on the door and Belicher's complaining voice could be heard outside. Shirl finally realized the significance of Tab's presence, and she gasped. "You're here because you're helping them," she said. "They found out that Sol is dead and they want his room."
Tab could only nod mutely.
"There's still a way out," Andy said. "If we had one of the men here from my precinct, living in here, then those people couldn't get in."
The knocking was louder and Tab took a half step backward toward the door. "If there was somebody here now, that would be okay, but Belicher could probably take the thing to squat court and get occupancy anyway because he has a family. I'll do whatever I can to help you — but Belicher, he's still my employer."
"Don't open that door," Andy said sharply. "Not until we have this straightened out."
"I have to — what else can I do?" He straightened up and closed his fist with knucks on it. "Don't try to stop me, Andy. You're a policeman, you know the law about this."
"Tab, must you?" Shirl asked in a low voice.
He turned to her, eyes filled with unhappiness. "We were good friends once, Shirl, and that's the way I'm going to remember it. But you're not going to think much of me after this because I have to do my job. I have to let them in."
"Go ahead, open the damn door," Andy said bitterly, turning his back and walking over to the window.
The Belichers swarmed in. Mr. Belicher was thin, with a strangely shaped head, almost no chin, and just enough intelligence to sign his name to a Welfare application. Mrs. Belicher was the support of the family; from the flabby fat of her body came the children, all seven of them, to swell the Relief allotment on which they survived. Number eight was pushing an extra bulge out of the dough of her flesh; it was really number eleven since three of the younger Belichers had perished through indifference or accident. The largest girl, she must have been all of twelve, was carrying the sore-covered infant, which stank abominably and cried continuously. The other children shouted at each other now, released from the silence and tension of the dark hall.
"Oh looka the nice fridge," Mrs. Belicher said, waddling over and opening the door.
"Don't touch that," Andy said, and Belicher pulled him by the arm.
"I like this room — it's not big you know, but nice. What's in here?" He started toward the door in the partition.
"That's my room," Andy said, slamming it shut in his face. "Just keep out of there."
"No need to act like that," Belicher said, sidling away quickly like a dog that has been kicked too often. "I got my rights. The law says I can look wherever I want with a squat-order." He moved farther away as Andy took a step toward him. "Not that I'm doubting your word, mister, I believe you. This room here is fine, got a good table, chairs, bed. "
"Those things belong to me. This is an empty room, and a small one at that. It's not big enough for you and all your family."
"It's big enough. We lived in smaller. "
"Andy — stop them! Look!" Shirt's unhappy cry spun Andy around and he saw that two of the boys had found the packets of herbs that Sol had grown so carefully in his window box, were tearing them open, thinking that it was food of some kind.