by Dorien Grey
It seems to me he’s been pretty agitated since I bought the building and found out about him.
Yes, but then it was a matter of his being little more than a roiling cauldron of emotions. He was barely aware of himself, let alone of anyone else. Now that he’s becoming more aware of his situation, he’s increasingly frustrated over his inability to do anything about it. He feels you’re his only hope to find out what happened to Bill and why.
I can understand that, but it’s also frustrating for me, not knowing what to do or how to do it. I’m just an ordinary guy, not a miracle worker. He’s waited four years, he can be patient a little longer. And you might ask him if there is anything at all I might check out that I haven’t already.
It can’t hurt.
And you said “a couple of things.” What else?
Steve. Now that you’ve admitted to him that you’re aware of…things other people generally aren’t…I wouldn’t be surprised if he might not suspect you know more than you’re willing to tell him. I’m afraid you’ve opened the door to a room full of eggshells, and you’re going to have to decide how you want to maneuver your way through them.
I guess I’m just going to have to play it by ear. This sure as hell isn’t a spot I want to be in. I don’t want to outright lie to him, but by the same token I don’t want to get him involved any more than he already is.
* * *
The weekend rolled around, and it was not until they were on their way to Steve’s car after brunch on Sunday that Steve reminded Elliott of his interest in seeing what had been done with the building.
“Right!” Elliott said. “I’d forgotten. Sorry.”
Steve merely looked at him with the slightest of smiles, sending a flush of embarrassment through Elliott, which he hoped didn’t show.
They’d planned to catch a matinee at the Century, and glancing at his watch, Elliott said, “We can go over now, if you want.”
“Any time’s okay. I don’t want to push you.”
Having now added guilt to his embarrassment, Elliott said, “We’ve got time. And I do want you to see it.”
* * *
As they drove up, Steve let out a low whistle.
“Wow! Ell, it looks fantastic! I love the detail work. And the shutters are perfect. You’ve done a great job. I’d been tempted to walk or drive by several times, but wanted to wait until it was nearly finished.”
Elliott smiled. “I’m glad you like it. It is turning out pretty nice, if I say so myself. But then, that’s what I do.”
He directed Steve around to the alley, where they parked in the recently paved parking area.
“If the buyer wants to put up a garage, he can do it without too much trouble,” he observed as they got out of the car. “I just didn’t see the need to have one.”
As they returned to the front entrance, Steve commented on the sandblasted Chicago brick. The tuckpointers had done such a good job it was impossible to tell where they’d worked.
Going first to the smaller of the two ground-floor apartments, which were now complete with the refinishing of the floors the previous week, they did a walk-through. For only having seen the place once before, Steve noticed and commented on every improvement, which Elliott was rather surprised to note pleased him more than he’d expected.
Though the one ground-floor apartment was identical in layout to the two directly above it, just as the smaller apartment’s layout was, with the exception of the second bedroom, identical to the two above it, Steve wanted to see them all. Elliott knew Mrs. Reinerio was visiting one of her sons in the suburbs, so they had the building to themselves. They started with her original apartment. Because of all the shuffling around, the unit still needed a bit of work.
Normally, when dealing with an empty building, each remodeling step was repeated in each of the apartments in succession: windows, kitchens, bathrooms, painting, carpeting, or sanding, and so on. But because of Mrs. Reinerio, this progression had been thrown out of kilter. He’d told Steve he knew his crew wasn’t happy with the disruption of their normal routine, and he also knew his generosity had cost him money in lost time and rescheduling. But, he figured, he could afford it, and Steve seemed impressed by his thoughtfulness.
Skipping the occupied apartment, they went upstairs. Elliott deliberately went first to the apartment across from the one Aaron had occupied. As he was inserting the key into the lock, there was a loud bam! from Aaron’s apartment.
“What the hell was that?” Steve asked as Elliott hurried across to open the door. The sound had been far louder than Aaron’s usual rapping, and that, plus the fact Steve had heard it, bothered him.
He sensed John immediately, but no other presence. Entering the apartment, he knew he wouldn’t find anything. There was nothing in the place that could have fallen over, unless a kitchen cabinet had somehow dropped off the wall. Going directly to the kitchen, he saw everything was in place. He turned to face a puzzled-looking Steve, who had followed him, as the sound came again, this time from the totally empty living room they’d just left.
With a mixture of concern and irritation, he strode past Steve and into the living room, going directly to the windows. He looked out into the street, though he knew he wouldn’t see anything, and didn’t.
“A sonic boom, probably,” he said.
Steve stood in the hallway to the kitchen, looking at him. “Why do I not think so?”
At that moment, there was yet another loud bam, though not as loud as the previous two. Steve spun around—the sound had seemed to come from directly behind him.
“I think we’d better go,” Elliott said calmly.
Steve strolled over to him, smiling. “Ya think?”
While still irritated, Elliott was greatly relieved, though not a little surprised, to see that Steve didn’t seem the least frightened.
Neither of them spoke until they were backing out of the parking area. Steve turned to him with a grin. “That was fun. Now what’ll we play?”
Elliott wasn’t quite sure how to respond. “Yeah. Well, that was a first.”
“Aaron, I gather?”
“I’d say that was a pretty safe bet.”
“And I’d guess this isn’t the first time you’ve heard him?”
Elliott nodded. “He does a lot of knocking, but not usually when anyone else is around. And never this loud.”
“So, none of your guys has heard it?”
“Only once. They thought it was me. But other than that one time, nothing, thank God.”
“Interesting.”
Elliott shot him a glance. “Mrs. Reinerio has heard it, and so, apparently, did the other tenants. It’s been happening ever since Aaron died, I understand. The Wolinskis heard it, too, but they didn’t want to scare me off as a buyer so they blamed it on pranksters. Can’t say I blame them, though I’m sure if anyone else had bought the building, they might have been more than a little pissed.”
“What do you suppose he wants?”
“Mrs. Reinerio thinks he’s still looking for Bill.”
“That’s really sad,” Steve said, sighing. “Were you ever going to tell me, or were you going to try to keep him all for yourself?”
Confirming with another glance at Steve’s smile that he was only teasing, Elliott said, “Believe me, I don’t want him all for myself. I just want him to do whatever…whatever you’re supposed to do when you die.”
“Well, from the sound of it, it doesn’t appear he’s too eager to do that right now.”
Elliott was relieved to see the Century’s parking lot directly ahead. As Steve flicked on the turn signal, he said, “Uh-huh. Well, we’ll talk about it after the movie. We’ll just make the two o’clock showing.”
* * *
It was Steve who had recommended the movie, a French import that had gotten rave reviews but which both he and Elliott agreed, as they left the theater, they had disliked heartily.
“Next time, let’s just stay home and pull our fingernails off
with a pair of pliers,” Steve said as Elliott placed their validated parking ticket in the machine.
Elliott grinned. “l was almost going to suggest we leave about halfway through, but when I looked over at you, you looked like you were really into it.”
“That look wasn’t enjoyment. It was me thinking of all the other things we could have been doing.”
“Well, live and learn,” Elliott said.
“Quick, let me grab a pencil and write that down.”
“You’re really asking for it, aren’t you?”
“Glad you noticed.”
* * *
They were about three-quarters of the way to Steve’s apartment, and neither had mentioned their interrupted conversation. Reluctantly, lest Steve think his interest in Aaron was simply being dismissed, Elliott said, “So, about Aaron…”
Steve smiled. “Thank you. I was afraid you were just going to brush it under the rug.”
Shaking his head, Elliott said, “Not at all. It’s just that I really don’t know what’s going on myself, and I’m trying to figure out how involved I want to get in all this.”
“And how far into it are you, if I may ask?”
“Well, I’ve done some checking around on various hunches, and from what I’ve been able to figure out and piece together, I’m pretty sure something isn’t right about his partner’s death.”
“So you think he—Bill?—was murdered?”
“I gather Aaron thinks so, and for whatever reason, I think he expects me to do something about it. It’s the ‘what’ that bothers me. There are just too many coincidences for them to be coincidences, if that makes any sense. And most interesting of all, two of the biggest coincidences involve you.”
“Me? Really?”
“That Gil almost went to work for Bill’s company, for one. That you work with Aaron’s brother, for another. I mean, what are the chances of those two things just…happening?”
Steve gave him a small smile. “That’s what coincidence means.”
They rode in silence for a few more blocks before Steve said, “You suppose you and I are a coincidence? That we ever met, for example?”
“Hard to say. It’s occurred to me.”
“I mean, all my life I’ve been able to sense things that just don’t seem to affect other people. I told you right after we met about Robert, the ghost I had when I was a kid. Remember?”
Elliott nodded. “Yeah, but kids often have invisible friends.”
“No, it wasn’t like that at all. He was very real. My brother Manny knew about him, too. We’d know when he was around. I told you he liked bedrooms and classical music, and sometimes at night I’d know he was there, watching me. Manny and I never told anyone. Even when I first mentioned him to you, I was afraid you’d think I was crazy.”
“But I didn’t,” Elliott said.
Steve grinned again. “No, you didn’t. But you also neglected to tell me that we shared that little…whatever you want to call it.”
“Well, I haven’t lived with this all my life, like you have. It all started after that accident I had not long before I met you, and I was really afraid that I might be losing it. I still don’t really feel all that comfortable with the idea of being aware of things I shouldn’t be aware of, let alone talking about it.”
“I understand. Still, it’s really kind of nice to find a kindred spirit, as it were.”
They didn’t talk much more until they reached Steve’s apartment.
“Well,” Steve said as they got out of the car, “I won’t bug you about it, I promise. But just know I’m here if you ever want to talk. And if there’s anything at all I can do to help you find whatever you’re looking for, just let me know.”
* * *
To quote Steve: “Wow! I’m impressed.”
Yeah, well, I’m not at all sure I am.
But don’t you feel better having talked to him about it? Though you left some pretty good-sized chunks out of the story. Me, for instance.
No offense, but I can’t see myself telling him or anybody, ever, the whole story. The last thing in the world I want is to turn my life into a TV show or a Topper movie. The very idea of having little business cards done up with “Elliott and Steve, the Ghost Guys” makes me shudder.
Got a nice ring to it.
Uh, sorry, but no. I am glad I don’t have to lie to him anymore, but that’s about as far as I want to go.
* * *
Monday at work, whenever Elliott was alone, he would hear soft but distinct rapping on whatever surface was closest to his head. It no longer startled him, but he became increasingly annoyed. Still, he refused to say aloud what he was thinking: Okay, I get it!
Monday night there was nothing from John, and Tuesday was a repeat of Monday. He found it more and more difficult to maintain his lifelong ability to ignore distractions when he worked. After the fourth knocking episode Tuesday, he became uncharacteristically angry, both at Aaron and at himself for letting the whole situation get to him.
When he talked to Steve Tuesday evening, he made no mention of the knockings, and Steve didn’t bring up the subject of Aaron, though Elliott could sense he wanted to. So, while he was grateful for Steve’s discretion, he also felt just a little guilty. He knew he could tell him everything without feeling he was being judged or thought weird.
Still, he could not bring himself to do it, and so the conversation ended with an agreement to meet for dinner Friday night.
That set Elliott to thinking yet again about his relationship with Steve. While it had become a given that they spent nearly every weekend together, they both still played the “if you’re not doing anything” game. But they seemed to mutually agree without saying anything that this was the best way to handle the relationship for now. One day…
Well, he told himself, they’d deal with that when it came.
* * *
Sorry. I really still have a bit of a problem remembering that time is different for you and me. I gather you’re pissed at Aaron.
That’s putting it mildly. You tell him that if he wants me to help him, he’s got to lay off the damned knocking. I know he’s there. He doesn’t need to keep reminding me. And I still don’t know why he put on that little demonstration in front of Steve.
Of course you do. He wouldn’t have done it if Steve weren’t receptive to it. He couldn’t resist the possibility of getting two people to help him.
Well I’m not about to ask Steve to do that, not that I have any idea of what he could do if I wanted him to. The well’s run dry as far as my having anything to follow up on is concerned. As a matter of fact, you can tell Aaron I can use a little help from his side. Does he have any idea who might be able to point me in a new direction?
I can try, but… Didn’t you meet someone who knew both Bill and Aaron? Not Irv Wilson. I didn’t catch his name. With your friend Button. Now, there’s a name I can remember.
Paul?
Paul. Right. Why don’t you check with him? He might possibly know something. And while I know you don’t want to get Steve involved, you might ask him to see if Aaron’s brother knew anything at all about Bill’s business or private life.
Well, I can see if I can talk with Paul, I suppose. But as for Aaron’s brother, from what I know of him he’s a number-one prick, and I get the idea he and Aaron weren’t particularly close, so I’d doubt he would know anything at all. I think I’ll shelve that one for a while.
You’re the boss.
Yeah, well you might remind Aaron of that fact.
CHAPTER 10
The fact that Wednesday passed without any knocking Elliott took as a sign Aaron had gotten his message, and in a spirit—no pun intended—of compromise Elliott decided to drop by the Anvil that night in hopes of running into Paul. The weather had turned downright unpleasant, with blustery winds and an occasional snow flurry mixed with a light rain.
By the time he got home from work, he was rethinking his decision to go out, on the grounds that an
yone with common sense would prefer to stay in during such weather. He also definitely did not want to run into Irv Wilson.
Still, he knew habits were hard to break, and hoped Irv would stick to his regular routine, which did not include being at the Anvil on Wednesday. Chances were probably 50/50 that Button might be there, and he could ask him to give Paul his phone number. He didn’t like to give his phone number to just anyone, but was willing to make an exception if it might provide him with something he could follow up on. He didn’t really hold out much hope.
* * *
The weather had cleared and the wind died down by the time he was ready to leave his condo, so he decided to walk. He arrived a few minutes after nine to find the place nearly deserted. No sign of Paul or Button or, he was relieved to see, Irv Wilson. He went to the bar and ordered a beer, figuring since he’d walked all the way, he deserved something for his trouble.
He’d just paid for his drink and taken the first sip when he heard “Well, hello stranger!” and turned to see Button standing next to the stool beside him.
Noting Button wasn’t wearing a coat, he said, “Have you been here all along? I didn’t see you when I came in.”
“I was in the little boy’s room. I spotted you the minute I came out. Let me grab my drink.” He moved down the bar to retrieve a glass and rejoined Elliott. “May I?” he asked, indicating the stool to Elliott’s right.
“Of course.”
They exchanged smiles as Button sat down.
“So, what brings you out tonight?”
“Nothing in particular,” Elliott lied. “Just felt like having a beer.”
“Well, I’m glad you did,” Button said, laying one hand lightly on Elliott’s arm. Though they had only met a couple of times, Elliott understood it wasn’t a come-on, just Button being Button.
Leaning toward him and lowering his voice, Button said, “I get a little tired of seeing the same old faces night after night.”
Resisting the temptation to ask why, then, he came in so often, Elliott merely nodded. “So, Paul’s not here tonight?”
Taking a sip of his drink, Button gave a quick head shake and swallowed before saying, “No, he really doesn’t come out all that often. He spends a lot of time at his folks’ helping his mom take care of his dad, who’s been really ill.”
