“Don’t look so disappointed,” he said. “It doesn’t become you.”
“It’s my dreams that don’t become me, Stefan. And now that I think about it, they do tend to be becoming too much like perfume commercials. I keep telling myself I have to stop watching television but I just go on watching it. Maybe this will teach me. There are worse things than laundry after all.”
“I don’t get it. You’re just too quick for me.”
“I doubt that. You’re way ahead of everyone.” She sighed. “It’s me. I still expect other people to step in and change my life.”
“If you’d give me half a chance …”
“I mean like with a magic wand or … or …”
“Or what?”
“Stefan? Don’t turn around now but do you see that guy over—no, don’t turn around, I said!”
“Well, where then?”
“Just hang on. Because I think he’s going over to the railroad steps. And then you won’t have to turn.”
“The one with the red hair? With the crossword puzzle book?”
“That’s him. That’s the one. Is he following me, do you think?”
“A bit young for you, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’m serious, Stefan. I keep running into him.”
“Well, you keep running into me, too. And I can assure you, you’re not following me.”
“Y’know Stefan, you’re so frigging glib. You’re really starting to make me sick. You act like I have no right to think someone might be following me. As though nothing horrible had happened to me. I mean, someone might want me dead. Actually dead and all you do—”
“I know where I know him from! Here let me light that for you. He’s the bartender at Freddy’s.”
“You’re joking.”
“No. And I ought to know. I’ve tipped him enough.”
“This is really weird. He’s the same guy I saw outside the church at the funeral of the first victim.”
“Are you sure?”
“I looked right at him through my lens. I remember like it was yesterday because he started to come toward me and I thought he was a relative of the dead kid and was going to ask me not to take any more pictures. Because he couldn’t have known that I hadn’t taken any to begin with.…”
Enthralled with each other’s news, they turned together to look directly at their subject. He was sprawled on the steps, eyes closed, his upturned face inhaling the late yellow sun. Any American tourist collapsed upon the Spanish Steps in Rome. His crossword puzzle book lay open on his lap.
“And you want to know the best part of all?”
“What?”
“He’s Freddy’s boyfriend.”
“Freddy’s gay?!”
“Well, bi. He’s also my brother-in-law. Or was.”
“Now let me get this straight …”
“No, Stefan, it’s all too complicated right now. Call the police.”
“The what? The police? Why? Because someone you saw in two different places turns out to be the same person?”
Claire gnawed at her thumb cuticle. “Of course, you’re right. Maybe I’m losing my marbles. Maybe Richmond Hill was the wrong idea for me altogether. Except that Iris mentioned a redhead spying on me. Well, she didn’t say that exactly, but that’s what she meant. I’m sure of it. Jesus. You try and get your life together and you do everything you can to do the right thing and then there are so many things that can go wrong. Not can. Do. That just do go wrong, you know? I know I shouldn’t be thinking of life that way but there you go, I was born a pessimist. And an optimist. Back and forth, back and forth, my worlds play off each other. And always back to a guaranteed certainty that whatever can go wrong, will. A Murphy’s lawyer, as it were. And then my childlike, superstitious, olley olley oxen free, if furtive, belief that if I keep that elephant trunk facing the doorway there … or if I pray from Grandma Maheggany’s funeral parlor holy picture … or if the clouds up there are mackerel … then today will go well. You see what I mean?”
“Now Claire. Calm down.”
“Oh, you don’t get what I mean at all, do you? You and I might as well live on different planets. It’s not just Park Lane South that separates our worlds. And another thing. Have you noticed that there isn’t one single spider’s web up here? Or anywhere near Metropolitan? But they’re all over my neighborhood. Why?”
“Spiders?”
“I’ll tell you why. Because there’s something sinister approaching my family. I can feel it.”
“I think you need a drink.”
“You mean you think you need a drink.”
He watched her warily. She was teetering toward the edge. He was wondering how he could remove himself without risking a scene. Fortunately, Claire seemed to be getting ready to go herself. She pulled a ten dollar bill out, slipped it under her saucer, and snapped her wallet shut.
“That should take care of it,” she said.
“Please, let me invite you,” he said, magnanimous with relief.
“Thank you, no.”
“Well, then take back five. A cup of coffee and a tart are not ten dollars.”