“I want to talk to you. Can I come in for a minute?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Did you get my notice?” Robert asked.
“You know I did. I was served.”
“There’s someone I want you to meet. Can I come in? Just for a second? My sister is with me.”
Nicola stepped to the side and looked through the peep window at an angle. It was true; a small woman with long dark hair stood beside him.
“She doesn’t look anything like you,” she said.
“Just for a second,” Robert said.
Nicola closed the peep window. She felt her collarbone absently, considering options.
“It’s beginning to rain,” he complained.
She slid back the chain and opened the door. Robert stepped inside. He was wearing a baseball cap and an extra-large white T-shirt. His eyes were small and red and tired.
“See, I told you this was nice,” he said to the woman.
“What is it you want?” Nicola asked.
“Just a quick look around. This is my sister, Carmen. Carmen wants to measure the oven space. She’s thinking of getting a Viking.”
Nicola stared at him.
“I don’t believe this. You came here at ten o’clock at night to measure my oven space?” She didn’t know if she was angry or just completely astonished.
“Look at that tile. And over here, see? Leaded glass.”
“Listen, Robert, you’re going to have to wait until you get me out for this,” Nicola said.
“Let me just take two steps around,” Robert said.
She shook her head. “Oh, so I should do you a favor? First you kick out my dog, and then me.”
“When you weren’t home I waited for you, even though I have a key.”
“Because that’s the law.”
“And I’m doing everything legal,” Robert said. He opened the pantry door. “Lots of shelf space,” he pointed out.
Nicola’s face felt suddenly hot. “That’s enough,” she said.
Why had she let them in? For a moment at the door she had thought Robert was going to tell her he’d changed his mind; she could stay in her house. Or that maybe she and the sister could be roommates or something. Why didn’t she know better?
Anyway she didn’t buy the sister deal. The woman was pretty and spoke English with a faint accent. In her hand was a tape measure and Nicola noticed that her fingernails were bitten into odd, angular shapes.
Robert took off his baseball cap and pulled his fingers through his hair. His eyes looked very tired. “She has a right to know what she’s getting,” he said.
“Does she know about the ants she’s getting?”
“Well, but every house around here…” Robert began.
“And you can’t poison them because they lead the poison back to their nests and then it gets into the ground water. I never drink out of taps anymore.” She turned to Carmen and put her hand out sharply, gesturing to the wall. “Also, the whole property is built on a pond. That means landfill. If there’s an earthquake, this sinks.”
“How do you know this?” Robert asked. He rested his hand on the chipped tile countertop, claiming ownership.
“Survey maps. But before the house sinks, the walls will collapse. That’s the real worry, getting out in time.”
“You mean you could be buried alive?” Carmen asked.
“Carmen,” Robert warned.
“But you know all this, Robert,” Nicola continued. She turned away from him, hiding her face. And started to fish. “You own a lot of property around here. You own the house in front.”
“Yes I do,” Robert said.
“And other places over the years. A few buildings along the beach. A duplex in Parkside. Oh, and something by the wharf, what was it, the Golden Gate Rooms?”
Robert looked at her quickly. “How do you know all this?” he asked.
“Well it’s a matter of public record. You have to know where to look, sure, but anyone can find it.”
“Public record?” Robert repeated. He fidgeted with his watch strap, then dropped it on the floor. Carmen picked it up for him.
“We’ve got to go,” Robert said suddenly. “Come on, Carmen. I need to … you should get back to that place.” They left abruptly without saying good-bye. Robert seemed shaken.
Nicola closed the door behind them. Her tea was now cold and she tipped it out over the sink as she listened for the sound of footsteps on the stone path. After a moment a single foghorn sounded distantly, to the north.
Now what was that about, she wondered?
Thirteen
The next morning the phone began ringing when the light was still unevenly gray. Nicola had been dreaming—something about handcuffs. But was she in the handcuffs, or was somebody else?
She had to clear her throat twice. “Hello,” she said finally.
“Guess who’s here.”
“Audrey?”
“Guess who’s here at my house.”
“Oh God, Audrey,” Nicola said. She tried to focus on the clock. “By tradition, shouldn’t I tell you what time it is?”
“One guess.”
“Someone I used to be married to?”
“I came downstairs and there he was on my couch. When I went through his pockets, there wasn’t even a pause in his snoring.”
“You looked through his pockets?”
“For my key.”
“I didn’t know he had your key.”
“It was news to me, too,” Audrey told her. Nicola laughed. “So, can you come over? Because Lester’s kind of under the couch.”
An hour later Nicola was standing at Audrey’s door carrying cardboard cups of coffee and a bag of croissants. The morning was still dark. Audrey and Declan lived across the street from the ocean, near a block of project housing. Someone had hung kites, five or six of them, from the drainpipes of the house next door. The wind looped them sideways. Soon it would probably rain.
“Hey,” someone said behind her.
Nicola turned. It was Dave, walking up the driveway wearing an army cap and an oversized sheepskin-like coat. But what was he doing here? And at only—Nicola looked at her watch—seven in the morning?
“What’s up?” she asked.
Dave looked around kind of awkwardly. “Scooter told me to come. I called him this morning. I found something,” he said.
That was fast, Nicola thought. “That’s great,” she said, trying not to sound surprised. She rang the doorbell again.
“Well, he’s up,” Audrey announced when she answered.
“Is it noon already?” Nicola asked.
“I heard that,” Scooter said from the living room.
He looked terrible, tired and rumpled, and his face had a dirty, waxy cast to it. Her ex-husband: what didn’t she know, or could guess, about him? Nicola gave him a coffee and the pastry bag.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“I’m trying to be nice.”
She took in the state of his hair—dirty and flat on one side—and wondered where he’d been sleeping before this. But instead of asking she looked around the living room. “So where’s my baby?” she asked. “Where’s my sweetpea?”
From under the couch came a couple of thumps. Dave, who was still standing, looked around in confusion.
“Lesty,” Nicola called, “come here. Lesty. Come on over here and give me some sugar.”
Lester eased herself out from under the couch on her belly and then walked stiffly toward Nicola. She was old, small, fat, and shaped like a bullhorn. Nicola picked her up and sat down on an overstuffed ottoman.
“Lester Pearl,” she said, scratching between her eyes. “What do you think? Do you like that?”
Scooter yawned. “I really thought that dog would be dead by now.”
“She just keeps eating,” Audrey said. She was wearing a black T-shirt and men’s pajama bottoms and she was sitting with her feet pulled up on the couch. Outside, small birds no bigger
than Ping-Pong balls hopped up and down the tree branches. A second later it began to rain.
Nicola turned to Dave. “So, what have you got?” she asked.
Dave pulled out his laptop and set it up on the coffee table, then looked around for a phone line. “You’re gonna love this,” he said.
Audrey finished up her coffee, then stood. “I’ve got to get going. But listen, Nicola, will you tell Scooter he can’t stay here? He won’t listen to me.”
“You can’t stay here, Scooter,” Nicola said.
Scooter was watching Dave. “I’m thinking of going back to Scott,” he said.
“What?”
“My name. I’m thinking of going back to my given name, Scott.”
Audrey said, “You see what I’m up against.”
“Because I just don’t see a man over thirty in the name Scooter.”
Nicola said, “That’s funny, I don’t either.”
Scooter frowned. “Ha ha.”
“Do you remember that video you made for him?” Audrey asked Nicola. “Step-by-step instructions on how to change a toilet paper roll?”
“That was a joke,” Scooter said.
“I mean he’s just barely domesticated,” Audrey said.
Nicola finished her coffee and threw the cup into the wastepaper basket in the fireplace.
“Well, he can’t stay with me,” she told Audrey.
“Here it is. Watch. You’re gonna love this,” Dave said. He shifted the monitor slightly toward Scooter. “I found a couple of good sites, but this is the best; you can actually follow the races in real time with a live feed. Here it comes. Look. Well, it’s empty now because the next race isn’t until eight.”
Nicola stopped scratching Lester’s head and looked at the screen.
“What is this?” she asked.
“You can follow any dog race in the country. You can even search for a specific dog,” Dave went on. He typed a name into the search engine window.
“And there’s Primogeniture!” he said.
Scooter bent over to see. “Cool!” he said.
Nicola was momentarily confused. Robert owns a racetrack, too? Then she realized this had nothing to do with Robert. “You’re researching dog races?” she asked.
“Yeah, well, I thought about your problem and I decided what you really need is more money,” Dave said. “And I think we could make lots of money with this.”
Scooter took the mouse. “It looks like you can place your bets online,” he said.
“Dude,” Dave said. “No need to travel the country.”
Reason number eighty-nine to be glad you’re a woman, Nicola thought. No one will address you as “Dude.”
“And here, look at this,” Dave went on. “A Web site all about dog care. Here’s a cool recipe for killing parasites; it’s like ground-up grapefruit seeds and something.”
“Okay, but Dave, this isn’t what I wanted,” Nicola said.
“You can use it for acne, too. I was thinking we could e-mail Primo’s owner. You know, help him keep up with the latest.”
“What I asked you,” Nicola tried again, “was to dig up some dirt on my landlord.”
Scooter was scrolling down the page. “Did you find Primo’s owner?” he asked.
“I’m still looking for the e-mail address,” Dave told him.
“Listen,” Nicola said. Lester jumped off her lap. Dave and Scooter were looking at the computer together and she noticed they were both jiggling something—a thumb, a foot. Also, Scooter was nodding a little as he scrolled. Their heads were almost touching. Nicola thought, what’s the use.
Still watching the screen, Dave pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “Here’s my bill for my time so far,” he said without looking at her, and he stretched out his hand more or less in her direction. “I also added lunch.”
Nicola didn’t take it. “I don’t think so,” she told him. She looked at her watch. It was time to get to work.
Dave turned. “What do you mean, ‘I don’t think so?’”
“I mean, Dave, that in business you pay for something you’ve agreed upon in advance. We did not agree you would research citrus cures for racing dogs. We agreed you would look for my landlord. So I don’t think I’ll be paying you.”
“But I told you, on that thing you’re screwed.”
“How do you know?”
Dave said, “Because he’s a landlord.”
Nicola shook her head. “I’ve really got to go.”
“Wait,” Dave said fiercely. “I need the money.”
Nicola said nothing.
“But I really need the money,” he said. His neck was turning blotchy and red.
The doorbell rang and Lester went back under the couch.
“Lesty,” Nicola called.
“And that will be Davette,” Scooter said, going for the door. A moment later he came back with Davette, who was carrying a plastic white airlines bag. Her hair was dyed a bright magenta.
Dave watched her walk in. “She won’t pay up,” he announced in a loud sulky voice.
Davette took off her coat. “What?”
“She won’t pay up for the work we’ve done.”
“Did you check the IP address?” Davette asked. She sat down on the rug cross-legged and took a new colorful laptop out of the airlines bag and put it on the coffee table.
“Not exactly. But it’s the principle.”
“What did you show her?”
“It’s also the needing the cash.”
“Just show me what you found,” Davette said patiently.
“Okay,” Dave said sulkily. “Here. Look.” He turned his computer slightly toward her.
Davette turned it more. “What’s this? I told you to check the IP address.”
“I like the dog racing angle.”
“Oh, my God, Dave, YSL.”
Nicola looked at her. “What?”
“You’re so lame,” Scooter explained.
“I asked him to check the IP address,” Davette told Nicola.
“What IP address?”
“Here. It’s easier just to show you.”
Davette booted up her laptop and connected it to the phone line. Nicola sat down on the rug beside her and stared at the monitor. After a moment Davette said, “We’re in. Okay, here. Wait a sec. Okay, look.”
As Nicola watched a wide, black-and-white photograph was forming itself on the screen. It was fuzzy at first, drawing itself in as they watched, but there were definitely naked breasts there and long stockinged legs and no clothes in between.
“I found this in the library yesterday,” Davette said. “During lunch.”
“You can get this on a school’s computer?” Nicola asked her.
“Oh, those Puritan blocking programs do nothing.”
One naked woman, then two, appeared on the screen. Below them were a couple of female head shots and a form to fill out credit card information.
Scooter stood behind Nicola. “If you are looking for the girl who can satisfy all your senses…,” he read aloud.
“This is his site,” Davette said. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor with her legs bent in some intricate yoga position. “Your landlord’s, I mean. I found the IP address and the site is running off of his computer.”
“Are you sure?”
“That’s what Dave was supposed to double-check. But I’m pretty sure I got it right.”
Audrey’s husband, Declan, walked in wearing a dark wetsuit and a towel around his neck. “Hey,” he said to Nicola. “What’s up?”
“Porn site,” she told him, gesturing to the computer.
“Cool,” he said, looking at the takeout coffee. “Can I have one?”
“Be my guest.”
He took a coffee and went down to the garage, probably, Nicola thought, to wax his surf board or do whatever you did to them when it was too rainy to surf. Meanwhile Scooter edged in next to Davette and began scrolling down the screen. “Pretty standard stuff,” he said
.
“You familiar with porn sites?” Nicola asked.
“Familiar,” Scooter repeated. “Familiar. I don’t know about familiar. But I’ve done some research.”
Dave crossed his arms. He was still wearing his coat. “This is useless,” he said. “There’s nothing illegal here. So he makes a little money showing dirty pictures around, so what. There’s nothing about him moving in somewhere or whatever, or his sister or whatever. I’m telling you, go with the dogs.”
Nicola turned to Davette. “I’ll write you a check.”
“Cash only,” Dave said.
“I think this payment is for Davette,” Nicola told him.
“Hey, we’re partners, remember?”
His voice had turned snotty, but it wasn’t worth struggling over. Dave didn’t like her, that was clear. And she wasn’t too sure how she felt about him either. Nicola turned away. She could hear Audrey’s shower going, and she remembered that at first she wasn’t too fond of Audrey either, but look at them now. Still, bonding with Dave seemed pretty unlikely.
Scooter squatted in front of the coffee table to get a better view. He turned the computer more toward him and scrolled up and down, looking at images.
“So what do you think; you think maybe you’re up here somewhere?” he asked Nicola.
She was caught off guard. “What?”
Dave snorted a laugh.
“Could this be you?” Scooter asked, pointing to a woman wearing a strawberry-colored bustier.
“Of course not!” Nicola said.
Scooter scrolled further down the screen.
“Well. Not to your knowledge,” he said.
Nicola looked at him. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that not to your knowledge are you on this site.”
She thought about that.
“That is a very creepy thought,” she told him.
“Do your bedroom windows have shades?”
“Shades and, thank God, good strong locks.”
“Any hidden cameras?” Scooter asked. He looked like he was enjoying this. “Like in the closet or something? Above the bed? Or I know, on the showerhead. A landlord could do that.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Nicola said.
“A little tiny camera on the showerhead. Away from the spray. Or maybe disguised as a little spray hole, a little black spray hole. I can just picture it.”
12 Bliss Street Page 11
