“Who else, Stanley? Who else knows anything?”
“I don’t know. Don’t you get it? I wasn’t supposed to be involved at all. Ray only told me because I was his best friend and he became so afraid. I don’t understand any of this computer stuff. I don’t understand the money or any of it.” He leaned in close to Wallis and whispered in a hiss, “I just want to be left alone. I’ve done what Ray asked and now I’m out of it. You do with it what you want.”
Stanley pulled his arm away, wiping away tears, and headed down the narrow hall between the bookcases. As he was about to turn the corner Wallis could see him startle and take a step back before quickly turning the corner.
Wallis gathered up her purse, the file and the disc and hurried after him to try and see what scared him but only caught a glimpse of a man’s polished, well-worn heel quickly turning the far corner. He must have been waiting around the next stack of books and left right behind Stanley. By the time Wallis got to the front only Ruth was left standing behind the old desk.
“Did two men just leave the store?” asked Wallis in a rush, stopping at the desk.
Ruth raised an eyebrow and looked Wallis up and down.
“No, only one. Stanley, the man you were talking to. Was he alright? He looked flush and was sweating like he’d gone for a run.” Her voice was doing the same sing-song, the r’s rolling along. “Stanley’s usually so easy-going.”
Wallis stopped moving and tried to listen for any other sounds besides Esther’s voice. Where had the other man gone to?
“Why, did you see someone else?” asked Esther.
Wallis turned away from Esther trying to get her to stop talking and listened for any kind of movement.
“I’ve been out front for the entire morning going over inventory. We still do it by hand, don’t trust computers. They’re always breaking down.”
“Excuse me,” said Wallis and she retraced her steps back into the bowels of the small house, not stopping at the travel section but following the zig-zag labyrinth all the way to the back till she came to a small kitchen still decorated in 1950’s linoleum, glass-fronted cabinets and squatty white appliances. The back door at the other side of the small room was shut tight.
“Is there a problem?” said Esther, coming up behind Wallis. “Was someone supposed to be meeting you?”
“Where does that door lead?” said Wallis, ignoring Esther’s questions.
“To the back yard. We don’t really use it except to take out the trash. It’s very inconvenient and besides, I have a hard time getting Herman to mow the front. You should see the back. It’s chigger heaven.”
Wallis looked out the small panes in the door at the overgrown backyard. The grass was neglected to the point of blooming its own tiny white flowers. Someone had made a path through the grass, trampling it down in a direct line to the gate in the tall privacy fence that ringed the yard.
“Hhmmph,” said Esther, standing next to Wallis, looking out the window. “So he did take the trash out. He should have said so instead of letting me go on like that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Herman’s so absent-minded. If I don’t keep telling him, nothing gets done. Trash is his job, I won’t do it. Maybe if he mowed, but…” she said, shrugging her shoulders.
“How can you tell from here? Where’s the trash cans?”
“Right by the gate, see? The grass is bent down, that’s my little way of knowing without having to ask Herman. Makes him think I trust him, maybe just a little, but I don’t. The grass in that yard, good stuff if only someone would mow it. It pops right back up the next day after he’s walked across it. Just like a great green carpet,” said Esther, her voice rising and dipping. “Must have carried the bag for once,” she said. “See? A small path. Usually he drags it. Herman’s not big on doing chores. If he doesn’t want to do something he has little ways of making you suffer for the favor.”
Wallis placed her hands on the door, leaning in to get a better look through the dirty glass at the trampled grass. It was a narrow path of someone’s footsteps. She took a small step away from the door, her hand sliding down the door, briefly rubbing against something sticky.
She kept her hand at her side, casually rolling the tips of her fingers together, making a small gummy ball out of the residue, as she glanced back at the door. She could just make out the faint square outline of residue that started at the edge of the door and stopped right before the old twist lock. The lock had been taped. She looked away before Esther could notice.