“He’s not missing,” Hutchins said, stepping forward. “Pete Hutchins, Navy Intelligence Linguistics Unit.”
“This is just a little misunderstanding,” Stewart said, looking daggers at Chris. “My fiancée doesn’t really mean he’s missing.”
“I know,” Hutchins said. “I’ve had Okee under observation for the last two days.”
“That’th not all he’th had under obthervation,” Molly said, looking at Chris’s bare feet.
“Right now he’s at Luigi’s Tempura Pizzeria watching the sutorippu,” Hutchins went on imperturbably. Stewart took out a pad and pencil and began scribbling. “It’s down in Shitamachi. On Osaka Street.”
“Osaka Street,” Stewart said. “I’ll call NASA and have him picked up immediately.” He started out to the hall.
“Picked up?” Chris said, following him.
“He’th not really there at all,” Molly said. “They jutht want you to leave tho they can have theckth.”
“Theckth?” Stewart said.
“Too much noise,” Mr. Okeefenokee said. He appeared at the end of the aisle, his orange-pink hair mashed down on one side as if he’d been lying on it. “Can’t sleep.”
“Mr. Okeefenokee, what are you doing here?” Chris said.
“Thee?” Molly said. “I told you he wathn’t at Luigi’th.”
Mr. Okeefenokee bent over and picked up one of the ornaments and hung it back on the tree. “Too much noise. Fighting. Sleep in back.” He gestured in the direction of the back wall, where the trampoline and the roller skates were.
Chris said, “But what about the recorder you—”
“Left a message on saying you were going to Luigi’s?” Hutchins interrupted smoothly. “Did you leave it because you didn’t want to be disturbed?”
“Message,” Mr. Okeefenokee said, smiling and nodding.
“You need to accompany me up to NASA immediately,” Stewart said. “You are needed for the negotiations on the space program.”
“Space program,” he said, his head bobbing even more vigorously. “Closing.”
“Hutchins, you’d better come with us to help translate,” Stewart said. “I’ll call NASA and let them know we’re on our way.” He went out into the hall to the phone.
Molly picked up the cards on the bed and looked at them. “Doeth that old man know you thtole hith cardth?” she asked Okee. Mr. Okeefenokee beamed at her.
Hutchins pulled Chris back into the aisle. “Where’s your subvocalizer?” he said softly.
“I gave it to you. Don’t you have it?”
“I gave it to Okee. I asked him to try to talk you into wearing it again.”
Chris frowned. “He asked me why I wasn’t wearing it and told me to put it on, but he didn’t give it back to me.”
“Great,” Hutchins said. “Now he doesn’t understand the word ‘give’ either, so how can he give us a space program?” He gripped her arms. “Look, I can’t let Okee go up to NASA by himself. I’ve got to go with him.”
“I know,” Chris said.
“If you had your subvocalizer, you could listen in on what’s happening, but… I’ll call you as soon as I can, okay?” He looked at her. “Maybe it’s just as well you don’t have it on. I might subvocalize what I’m thinking.”
“I knew you thtole my recorder,” Molly said. She brandished it at Chris. “Wait till I tell Bets about thith.” She stomped out.
“What did you say to upset that poor, dear child?” Stewart said. “I got through to NASA. I told them we were on our way. Perhaps you should get dressed, Mr. Hutchins.”
“Yeah,” Hutchins said. He went out into the hall. Mr. Okeefenokee followed him.
“I think I should go with you, Stewart,” Chris said. “Mr. Okeefenokee doesn’t understand English very well, and I couldn’t…”
“I hardly think you’d have anything to contribute to the space-program negotiations when you haven’t even bothered to learn to pronounce his name correctly,” Stewart said.
“How do you know it’s a space program?”
“What?”
“I said, how do you know Mr. Okeefenokee,” she said, saying his name with emphasis, “is talking about the same kind of space program you are? What if he’s talking about something else?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, walking around the bed to look at the microwave boxes. “What else could he possible be talking about?”
A spice program, Chris thought. A space pogrom. Radio. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I was doing here in my nightgown with Pete Hutchins?”
Stewart bent over to look to the accordions. “What’s all this stuff doing in here?”
“You told me to do whatever Mr. Okeefenokee wanted. He wanted to buy things.”
“I meant anything within reason,” he said, picking up one of the bento-bako boxes. “How in heaven’s name did he expect to get all this home with him?”
“How did he expect to get all this home?” Hutchins said, frowning. He had put on his shirt and a tweed jacket.
“It wath right there!” Molly said, pointing at the bed. “In plain thight.”
“She stole it just like she stole our curling iron,” Bets said. “That’s what I told the interviewer.” She struck a pose. “I said, ‘She steals things and she won’t let us use her phone or her bathroom and .…’ ”
“Out,” Chris said. She took hold of the pink ribbons on Bets’s nightgown and used them to propel her out the door.
“You’re just trying to get rid of us so you can be alone with Hutchins, but we fixed you! We—” Chris slid the door shut.
“What was all that about?” Stewart said. “You didn’t actually steal that darling tot’s recorder, did you?”
“Molly’s practicing her lines for a screen test,” Hutchins said. “A remake of The Bad Seed. Okee, are you ready to go up to NASA?” Okee nodded and smiled. Hutchins herded him downstairs.
“I really think I should go with you, Stewart,” Chris said.
He started down the stairs. “It’s not necessary,” he said, stepping over the old man, who was laying out a hand of solitaire. “You stay here and help the kiddies rehearse for their screen test. Besides, you’re not even dressed,” he said, and then turned and looked back up at her in surprise.
“Call me,” Chris said, and looked over his head at Hutchins standing by the door. “Please.”
“I doubt if we’ll be able to,” Stewart said crisply from the foot of the stairs. “I should imagine we’ll be in negotiations all night.”
They went out. Chris hesitated a moment and then started to run back up the stairs to get dressed so she could go with them.
“Wait,” Mr. Nagisha said from the door of his apartment. “I have something to give you.” She came back down the stairs, stepping carefully over the laid-out cards, and he handed her a folded paper.
“What is it?” Chris said.
“An eviction notice. You are in violation of your lease.”
“I am not,” she said, unfolding the paper. “How am I in violation?”
“Subletting without landlord’s permission to a person not a relative and withholding of rent.”
“What? You mean Mr. Okeefenokee? I didn’t sublet my apartment to him. NASA requisitioned it, and Stewart paid you. I saw him. Nobody withheld any rent, and if you’re talking about Mr. Hutchins, Mr. Okeefenokee was the one who asked him to stay with him. If you think he should be paying rent, too, you’ll have to talk to NASA.”
“I have evidence. You must be out by seven o’clock tomorrow morning. I have rented your apartment to other tenants.”
“What kind of evidence?”
He flourished a chip at her, and for a minute Chris thought it was the missing recording of “Tiptoe Through the Tulips,” but Mr. Nagisha walked past the old man, stepping squarely on the cards, and up to the landing, where he stuck the chip into the TV.
The title, “Orphans of the Stairs” appeared in front of the screen followed by a shot of
the apartment building. A voice-over, which sounded suspiciously like the redheaded interviewer, said, “Inside this building is one of the apartments NASA has requisitioned so the aliens will have a place to live. But what about all those people on Sony who don’t have a place to live? Today I met two of them.” The interviewer appeared on the landing with Molly and Bets in their navy-sailor dresses. They curtsied as he introduced them, all their dimples showing.
Mr. Nagisha fast-forwarded and then stopped. The interviewer said, “Let’s see these budding performers in action,” and Molly arid Bets clomped out in their wooden shoes. Mr. Nagisha fast-forwarded it before they could get started on “Tiptoe Through the Tulips.” He stopped it.
“Spielberg, are you out there?” the interview said. “All these two talented tots ask is a chance to break into show biz.”
He hit the fast-forward button, and when he stopped the chip again, Molly was saying, “Thyee and the alien have thith whole apartment, but thyee won’t let uth use the bathroom or the phone or anything, even if we’re eckthpecting an important call from our agent.”
“And then last night she kicked us out of her room,” Bets said, stepping neatly in front of Molly. “We just wanted to sleep on the floor.” She began a pretty pout and then seemed to realize that if she stopped talking, Molly would jump in, and added hastily, “I think she wanted us out of there so she could be alone with him.”
“Who?” the interviewer said, his ears perking up. “The alien?”
“Of courth not,” Molly said, putting her arm up so it was in front of Bets’s face. “Mr. Negeethya doethn’t know it, but thyee rented her apartment to thith other guy.”
“His name’s Hutchins,” Bets said, wrestling Molly’s arm down to where she could see over it. “We saw him give her the rent. It was a whole bunch of yen. She’s not supposed to rent to anybody without telling Mr. Nagisha.”
“He wasn’t paying me rent,” Chris said. “He took some money out of my purse to pay for breakfast. He was giving me my change.”
The scene in front of the TV cut suddenly to Chris trying to shut the door on the interviewer’s foot. “The occupant of the apartment, Ms. Christine Arthur, was unavailable for comment,” the interviewer said.
“I did not rent my room to Mr. Hutchins,” Chris said. “Mr. Okeefenokee asked him to stay. He doesn’t understand English very well, and he thought ‘room’ meant any available space and…”
“Evidence,” Mr. Nagisha said.
“Look, I’m sure we can clear this whole thing up if you’ll just let me call Stewart.”
The interviewer said, peering over Molly’s and Bets’s simpering faces, “When this reporter checked with NASA, they had no record of having requisitioned Ms. Arthur’s apartment, which raises further questions about the alleged alien and Ms. Arthur’s refusal to sublet to…” Mr. Nagisha popped the chip out of the TV and stepped over the old man in the baseball cap. “Seven o’clock,” he said, and went into his apartment and shut the door.
“Molly and Bets are mad at me because they think I stole their chip recorder,” Chris shouted at the door. “They told me they’d get even.”
The door stayed shut. The old man in the baseball cap looked up blankly and then went back to laying out his cards. He’ll never get anywhere without the diamonds, Chris thought irrelevantly, and tore back upstairs, clutching the eviction notice, and tried to call Stewart.
The blond woman who was always laying papers on Stewart’s desk for him to sign told her that he couldn’t come to the phone. “Have him call me as soon as you can,” Chris told her. “This is an emergency!”
She got dressed and tried again. This time the call wouldn’t go through. She stared at the screen for a while and then grabbed the eviction notice and her purse and ran downstairs. At the bottom of the steps she collided with Charmaine’s lawyer. He was swinging a tassel idly in one hand and whistling.
“Hey!” he said. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Mr. Nagisha’s having me evicted because of Hutchins. I’ve got to go find him.”
“And leave your apartment? If you leave, you’re liable to find your furniture out on the stairs when you get back.” He looked at the eviction notice. “You go back upstairs and sit tight. I’ll go try to talk Mr. Nagisha out of this. If it doesn’t work, I’ll go find Hutchins for you. Go on. Mr. Nagisha’s probably already changing the locks.” Chris tore back upstairs, hopelessly scattering the old man’s cards. “I’m sorry,” she said breathlessly. “You wouldn’t have won anyway. Your diamonds are in Mr. Okeefenokee’s room.”
The locks hadn’t been changed, but the door was standing open. Molly and Bets were in the living room, arranging their dolls on the couch.
“I get the bedroom,” Molly said. “You can thleep in the hammock.”
“I get the bedroom,” Bets said. “Out,” Chris said. Both of the little girls turned to look at her in surprise.
“Didn’t Mr. Nagisha talk to you?” Bets said. “This isn’t your apartment anymore. It’s ours.”
“Either you get out or I’m knocking those pearly little front teeth of yours down your throats, and then we’ll see how many parts you get.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Bets said, but she grabbed one of her dolls by the arm and clutched two others to her stomach. Molly scooped up the rest of them, and they trooped out. “We’re moving in at theven o’clock and you’d better be out of here by then,” Molly said.
Chris locked the door and shoved a chair against it. She tried Stewart again, and then the operator, but she still couldn’t get through. Charmaine’s lawyer came up to tell her he hadn’t gotten anywhere with Mr. Nagisha. He didn’t sound particularly worried, but he said he was going up to NASA to look for Hutchins and Okee. “You don’t have to barricade yourself in,” he said, pointing at the chair. “Just don’t leave. And keep trying to get in touch with Hutchins from this end.”
“I will,” she promised, trying to think where Mr. Okeefenokee might have put her subvocalizer. As soon as Charmaine’s lawyer was gone, she went into Mr. Okeefenokee’s room to look for it. She looked through the bento-bako boxes and under the bed and in the baby buggy, and then started in on the endless stacks of boxes. I wonder how he planned on getting all this home, she thought, sticking her hand inside the roller skates.
The phone rang. It was Hutchins. “I’ve only got a minute,” he said rapidly. “Have you found the subvocalizer yet? Okee doesn’t have it. They did a metals search on him when we came in. I asked him where he put it, and he said, and I quote, ‘You put on. Closing. Hahnahmoon.’ Do you realize what that means? There isn’t any space program. He hasn’t understood a word we’ve been saying.”
“Pete, you’ve got to come back right away,” she said to the suddenly blank screen. “I’m being evicted.” She prodded the reinstate button until an operator came onscreen. “I was just cut off,” she said, and gave her Stewart’s number. This time the phone rang. And went on ringing. Chris let it ring twenty-eight times and then went back into the bedroom and sat down on the bed.
She picked up the list Mr. Okeefenokee had written. He had checked off “time alone” and “closing” and crossed off “neck.” The only thing left on the list was “hahnahmoon,” which he had spelled the way he pronounced it.
“Honeymoon,” Chris said out loud. “I wonder what he thinks that means.” She picked up the old man’s diamonds and took them out to him, but he was asleep again, stretched out across the stairs, his baseball cap in his hands. Chris sat down on the step above him and shuffled the diamonds into his deck. The phone rang.
It was Stewart. “I’m being evicted,” Chris said before they could be cut off.
“Evicted?” he said, looking horrified. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. Mr. Nagisha claims I withheld rent from him.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Stewart said. “I paid him myself when Ohghhifoehnnahigrheeh moved in.”
“He’s not talking
about Mr. Okeefenokee. He’s talking about Hutchins. You’ve got to tell him to come back here so he can explain to Mr. Nagisha that he wasn’t paying me rent, he was just giving me back my change from breakfast.”
“Breakfast?” Stewart said. “How long has Hutchins been over there?”
“Two days. He’s got to come explain that Mr. Okeefenokee was the one who asked him to stay. And you’ve got to bring over the requisition forms that show my apartment was requisitioned by NASA.”
“I’ll be right over,” he said hurriedly.
“Bring Hutchins with you. And Mr. Okeefenokee.”
“I can’t do that,” he said.
“I know they’re in negotiations, but they’ve got to talk to Mr. Nagisha. What if I have Mr. Nagisha come up here and they can talk to him on the phone?”
“That won’t work either.”
“Why not?”
“They’re on their way down to Houston. They left on the shuttle half an hour ago.”
“ ’Scuse me,” Charmaine said, and came into the living room, wearing her pink smock and carrying the red paper umbrella Mr. Okeefenokee had given her. She switched on the light. “I didn’t knock ’cause I thought you might be asleep. Did you know Molly’s got a key to your apartment?”
Chris nodded numbly. “Hutchins is gone.”
“Yeah, I know,” she said. She sat down on the couch beside Chris. “How long have you been sitting here in the dark?”
“I don’t know. What time is it?”
“Three o’clock.”
“They’re probably in Houston by now. I hope Hutchins didn’t get shuttle lag.”
“You look pretty lagged yourself. Why don’t you try to get some sleep?”
“I can’t. I’m being evicted.”
“Yeah, I know that, too. My lawyer stopped by Luigi’s to tell me what had happened. The way I figure it, your prospective buyer figured he better get rid of Hutchins before he made you a better offer.” She put her arm around Chris. “Don’t worry about your apartment. My lawyer say’s he’s got a plan to fight the eviction. He wouldn’t tell me what it was, but he said not to worry, he wouldn’t let those brats get your apartment, and I believe him. He knows practically everything there is to know when it comes to real-estate deals.”
Spice Pogrom Page 8
