Always hard to get that last drop, Anna thought.
She stood, allowing her father to get into the bed. Then she plopped herself back down on the edge once he had his head on the pillow.
“You going to read me a story?” he asked.
She felt a twinge of fear. Was he joking, or did he think he was five years old?
“Something raunchy’d be nice,” he said, grinning.
Okay, a joke.
“No, I am not going to read you a story,” she said. He hadn’t called her Joanie, so maybe this was one of his moments of clarity. She hoped so.
“I’m not going to get back to sleep, you know,” he said. “I’m usually up by six, anyways.”
“Yeah. Who am I kidding.”
Frank rubbed Anna’s arm affectionately. “Sorry if I woke you up.”
“Don’t worry about it, Dad.” It struck her that he seemed very much with it at this moment. “Since we’re both wide awake, let me ask you something.”
“Okay.”
“You were always my go-to guy when I was wondering what to do with my life.”
Frank waited.
“I wonder if I’m in a rut,” Anna said. She then added quickly, “And not because of you. This has nothing to do with you. I’m talking about my work. It’s interesting, and I like it, but there are times when I need to get out of my comfort zone.”
Frank nodded.
“I’ve got this one patient, doesn’t matter who, but he wants to set up a meeting, in prison, with the man who tried to kill him. And he wants me to go with him.”
Frank looked intrigued. “Wow.”
“Yeah. I’m not sure he’s in the right frame of mind for an encounter like that, but he seems pretty determined, so it might be better if I were with him.”
“I think you should go,” her father said. “Sounds damn interesting.”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “I shouldn’t always just play it safe, staying in the office.”
Her father blinked at her several times. She wondered whether she was losing him.
“Isn’t that why you asked me to move in? To feel safer?”
She gave his hand a squeeze. “It was one of the reasons. A good one, too.”
“It made me feel safer, too.” He smiled in a way that seemed almost childlike. “I like that feeling. It’s a warm feeling.”
Anna patted his hand. “I’m gonna have a shower, and then I’ll start the coffee.”
Her father’s brow wrinkled slightly, as though he was considering something.
“What is it?” Anna asked.
“Just wondering if I need to pee again.”
She grinned. “I think only you know for sure.”
He thought one more second, then said, “No, I’m good.”
She looked back at him as she was stepping into the hall, and his eyes had shut. In two seconds he appeared to have fallen back asleep.
The shower could wait, Anna thought.
She returned to her bedroom and crawled back under the covers. It didn’t take her much longer to nod off than it had taken her father.
So she was out cold when the police stormed the house five minutes later.
Sixteen
So what’d you tell her?” Bill asked, sitting on the locker-room bench, lacing up his shoes. “What’d you tell Charlotte?”
Paul shrugged, twirling the squash racket in his hand, waiting for Bill to get ready. “I told her I thought I’d heard someone knocking.”
Bill chortled. “What, like Girl Scouts going door-to-door selling cookies in the middle of the night?”
“Like someone trying to get in.”
Bill shook his head. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”
“I want to get back to doing the things I used to do.”
“Yeah, but this?” Bill held up his own racket. “Doctor gave you the okay?”
“Didn’t ask,” Paul said. “I want to hit the ball, move around. I’m not going to do anything heroic. The ball lands in the corner, I’m not going in after it.”
“So I’ll take it easy on you,” Bill said. “Like always.”
“Fuck you.”
They walked out of the locker room and into the West Haven College athletic facility. They strolled past exercise machines and an indoor track before they got to the squash courts. There were five, all backed with glass walls for the benefit of spectators.
“Does Charlotte know you’re doing this?” Bill asked.
“No.”
“This is a bad idea.”
“I’m telling you, I’m fine.”
Two women were playing in the court they had booked. Bill glanced up at a wall clock. “They’ve still got two minutes. Okay, so Charlotte finds you on your ass on the stairs and you say you heard someone at the door, but there was no one at the door.”
“Isn’t that what I said?”
“Why didn’t you tell her the truth?” Bill asked, his eyes on the two women in the court.
“I had already accused Josh of messing with the typewriter in the middle of the night. What’s Charlotte going to think if I tell her I heard the same thing again?”
“That you’re losing it?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“But you’re telling me what you really heard. Suppose I think you’re losing it?”
“Do you?”
Bill sighed. “I haven’t got any other explanation.” He tapped the edge of his racket on the glass. When the women turned around, he pointed to an imaginary wristwatch. The women ended their game and exited. One of them gave a long smile to Bill as she blotted her neck with a small towel.
“You’re as bad as Hoffman,” Paul said as the woman headed for the locker rooms.
“Hey,” Bill said, “that’s low. He was married. I’m not.”
They ducked through the low door and entered the court.
“So you do think I’m losing it,” Paul said.
“I’m not saying that,” Bill said. He was holding the ball. He tossed it a couple of feet into the air and whacked it against the far wall.
Paul returned the serve. “What are you saying?”
Bill, swinging, said, “You’ve been totally stressed-out and this is how it’s manifesting itself.” The pings of the ball bouncing off the walls echoed within the court. “There’s no evidence anyone was in the house, right?”
Paul swung, hit the ball. “Right.”
“The door was locked, you didn’t see anyone, you didn’t hear anyone running down the stairs.”
Paul ran to the right side to hit the ball. “Yeah.”
“So no one was there, and you couldn’t have heard what you thought you heard. Which means one of two things. You heard something else that sounds like that typewriter, or you heard it in your head.”
Bill went into the corner for the ball as Paul said, “What else sounds like a manual typewriter?”
“So you dreamed it.”
“I didn’t. I was awake.” He let the ball sail past him.
Bill shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. Are we stopping?”
“I’m feeling a little light-headed,” Paul said, looking ashamed to admit it.
“Then let’s stop before I end up killing you.”
“Thanks.”
The court was still theirs, so they stood there as they continued talking. Bill shook his head, struggling on Paul’s behalf for an explanation.
Bill snapped his fingers. “I got it.”
“What?”
“Mice.” Paul rolled his eyes. “No, hear me out. You’ve got mice, and they ran over the keys in the middle of the night.”
“Even for you, that’s pretty dumb. Even if we did have mice, which we don’t, a mouse weighs so little, the key wouldn’t go down. And you’d need an entire troupe of dancing mice to make as much noise as I heard.”
Bill held up his palms in defeat. “Call the Ghostbusters.”
Paul ran his hand over the back of his neck. “I didn’t even work up a sweat.” As they turned for the door, Paul said, “I think I’ll move it.”
“What?”
“The typewriter. I’ll put it in the laundry room or something.”
Bill nodded thoughtfully. “That’ll make Charlotte happy. Her special gift relegated to the laundry.”
“Shit.”
“And what, exactly, would that prove? Where’s the logic? If you believe someone, somehow, is breaking in, hiding the typewriter isn’t the answer. A fucking dead bolt is the answer.”
“We’ve got a dead bolt on the door.”
“Windows all secure?”
“Yes.”
“You got an alarm system?”
“No.”
“Maybe that should be your first step. If you still hear keys tapping in the night after that, well, then maybe you really do need the Ghostbusters.” He grinned.