I wasn’t sure that would be the end of Detective Thomson. I couldn’t sleep, and some of the disturbance seemed to come from worry about where I’d end up.
Then, one afternoon I came in from the grocery store and my mother’s travel alarm clock was missing. I glanced around the room, wondering what else might be gone. I opened a bureau drawer and sifted through my clothing. Then I knocked on Geoff’s door, and he stuck his head out, his hair dirty and wild.
“Did you borrow my clock?” Geoff’s apartment was oppressively dark, though it was a bright, spring day outside.
“If I borrowed it, I would have asked first, correct?” he said.
“Where could it be?” I said.
Suzie thrust her head out from behind Geoff’s pant leg, and he blocked her from leaving the apartment. “How should I know?” he said, closing the door on me.
The next day my mirror was gone, and the day after that the lamp that sat on my end table. I felt part of some art installation, the contents within the frames dissolving piece by piece. I told Geoff I wanted to change the locks. This time when he came to the door the window blinds were open in the apartment behind him. He’d washed his hair.
“That’s a chore,” he said. He yanked Suzie’s leash and stepped around me into the landing.
“Someone is coming into my apartment,” I said.
Geoff moved to the stairs and started his way down. “Are you sure you didn’t misplace these things?”
“A mirror?” I said. I found I was shouting, and I’d never gotten angry at Geoff before.
He paused on the stairs. “No need to raise your voice.”
My heart dipped with remorse. I watched him slip out of the front door, dragging Suzie behind him.
The next morning, rubber-soled shoes bounded up the stairs. Unless Geoff had gotten a new pair of shoes, it was a stranger. Whoever it was hesitated at the top step and knocked on my door. Out the window, parked beneath the bright buds of the elm, was a police cruiser. I felt entirely alone and vulnerable. I was sure William’s body had been discovered, the film in his pocket developed. Somehow, I had been identified. I found I couldn’t summon the strength with which I’d faced Detective Thomson, but those times my mother had been with me.
I would pretend I wasn’t home. But the knocking continued, and Geoff came out into the upstairs hall and told whoever it was that I had been there earlier.
“Perhaps she’s in the shower,” Geoff added.
The knocking was louder, and there wasn’t a possibility for me to slip away—no escape route out a window, down a trellis. I opened the door, resigned, and was surprised to see Officer Paul. In the daylight, his expression was kind. Despite his large ears, he resembled the ruggedly handsome men in old cigarette ads. I understood why Del had found him attractive. He had on his uniform, the one I’d thought was a costume at Anne’s cookout.
“Are you Martha? I wonder if you have a few minutes?” he said. His voice was soft. He smelled of shaving cream. He introduced himself as Officer Donaldson, and I peered at his badge, confused.
“The little kids call me Officer Paul,” he said. “The others do it to be funny.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t answer the door. I was asleep. I was up late last night, packing.”
And I showed him the piles of clothing and the boxes. He stepped into the door frame, but he didn’t come inside.
“You’re probably wondering why I was walking around in the Peterson field,” I said.
“We get morbid people up there poking around,” he said. Then he waved his hands. “Not to suggest that about you, of course.”
“I’m a photographer,” I said. “Abandoned places interest me.”
Officer Paul placed his hands on his hips. His belt was thick and slung low, weighted down by his holstered gun. “I don’t want to keep you,” he said. “I’m really inquiring about William Bell.”
“What do you need to know?” I’d managed to keep a level tone, though I felt weak with fear. I sounded so much like my mother I wanted to laugh, but of course I knew not to. “Can I get you anything? Water? Tea?”
“No thank you. Is William Bell at home?”
I tried to gauge from his expression what he suspected, whether he already knew William was gone and was feigning ignorance, whether he wanted to find him at home for some other reason. “I’m sorry,” I said. “He doesn’t live here anymore.”
“Some of the girls mentioned you two got married,” he said. I’d long since removed the ring.
“We separated,” I said. “It didn’t work out.”
“I’m sorry,” Officer Paul said, and I believed he truly was.
“Can I help you with anything?” I said.
He explained that he was investigating the Swindal case, following up on a few things.
“It’s so sad,” I said. “I guess it wasn’t an accident, if you’re investigating?”
Officer Paul stepped away from the door toward the stairs. “We aren’t disclosing the cause of death yet.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re looking for clues.”