"Did he? Sorry about that."
"Gave me a chuckle," Charlie said. "Being a 'person of interest' at my age. Anyhoo, one of the guys who runs the shelter has a police scanner. Naturally, we tuned in after that. Dispatch mentioned this address, and being a busybody and all, I thought I'd stop by and check on you for myself. I can't help thinking some of this is my fault."
"Your fault?"
"I'm being followed," Charlie said bluntly. "Least, I'm pretty sure I am. Started the day I met up with Sergeant Warren and Detective Dodge in Mattapan. Wasn't sure at first. Just kept getting a kind of hinky feeling between my shoulder blades. I think maybe I was being followed again the night I ran into you. And I think the same person who is following me knows something about the mass grave. And maybe something about you."
"Why something about me?"
"Because you're the key to that grave, aren't you, Annabelle? I don't know how, I don't know why, but everything that's going on, it's all about you."
My neighbor picked that moment to jog up the stairs, four plastic grocery bags in hand. He gave us a brief nod—what was there to notice, a young woman, an old man, a blissed-out dog—and headed up the central stairs.
Charlie's eyes tracked the man's movements, though his fingers never stopped caressing Bella's ears.
"You know something about Mattapan," I told Charlie, a statement now, no longer a question.
Very slowly, he nodded.
"Something you haven't told the police."
Another slow, thoughtful nod.
"Why are you here, Mr. Marvin? Why are you stalking me?"
"I want to know," he said quietly. "I want to know everything. Not just about him, but about you, Annabelle."
"Tell me," I demanded suddenly, a foolish mistake.
Charlie Marvin smiled. "All right. But seeing as we're now friends, you have to invite me into your apartment."
"And if I say no?"
"You'll say yes, Annabelle. You have to, if you want to learn the truth."
He had me and we both knew it. Curiosity killed the cat, I reminded myself. But the truth was too powerful a lure. Slowly, but surely, I nodded my agreement.
I MADE HIM go up the stairs first. Seemed slightly less stupid that way Kept him in my line of sight. I had the suitcases to carry, I told him. If he followed me, I'd probably whack him with one of them accidentally. He had no idea how clumsy I was, I said.
Charlie accepted my explanation with his cheerful smile. Understanding completely Not at all challenging.
The long hike up five flights of stairs—lugging suitcases, no less, gave me plenty of time to curse myself. Why had I forgotten the Taser? And how in the world did I end up with a dog who was such a rotten judge of character?
Because I was pretty sure Charlie Marvin was a threat. I just wasn't sure how.
In the good-news department, I had fitness and youth on my side. By the time we hit the fifth-floor landing, Mr. Marvin was breathing hard and holding his side.
He stood back. I worked the first lock on my door. Second. Third.
"Cautious girl," he commented.
"You never know."
My door opened. Once again, I let him do the honors of going first. Then I propped open my door with the giant suitcase.
"In a building structured like this one," he commented, "seems like our every word might echo down the staircase."
"Oh, they will," I assured him. "Screams, too. And we know at least one of my neighbors is home."
He smiled more ruefully this time. "I spooked you that bad?"
"Why don't you tell me what you want to say, Mr. Marvin?"
"I'm not the real threat," he said quietly I thought he looked a trifle grieved, even sad.
"Mr. Marvin—"
"He is," Charlie said, and pointed behind me.
BOBBY WAS WALKING. Very fast. D.D. was talking. Very angrily.
"You didn't run a background check on Charlie Marvin?"
"We checked on him. Sinkus followed up on the man just this morning. He does volunteer at the Pine Street Inn. He did have an alibi for last night."
"Oh yeah, and how do you know the Charlie Marvin volunteering at the Pine Street Inn is the same as our Charlie Marvin?"
"What?"
"You gotta go in person. You gotta show a picture. Of all the stupid, rookie mistakes!"
"I didn't make the call," Bobby protested again, then gave up the matter. D.D. was too pissed off to listen. She needed someone to grind up and he was the lucky body standing closest. That would teach him.
They'd put out an APB for a man matching Charlie Marvin's description. Since they had to start with what they knew, officers were converging upon the Pine Street Inn, as well as Columbus Park, Faneuil Hall, and the former site of Boston State Mental, all known Charlie Marvin destinations. With any luck, they'd pick up Marvin within the hour. Before he ever suspected a thing.
"It still doesn't make sense," Bobby grumbled as they hustled through the lobby "Marvin can't be Uncle Tommy. Too old."
"My car," D.D. said, pushing through the heavy glass doors.
"Where's it parked?"