I set the typewriter on my front step, the better to deal with her.
She caught sight of me, but didn’t seem to feel her near-nude state required apology or comment. “I don’t know why Henry don’t plant grass. Look at this dirt ever’where. My feet’s a mess.”
“He’s conserving water. Or trying to,” I said.
“He said I could warsh my stuff, so don’t look at me like that.”
“I was explaining, not criticizing,” I said. “Is he home?”
“He went to the store.”
At that moment, her pup tent gave a shudder and a fellow crawled out through the flaps. Pearl must have done his laundry along with hers, or that was my guess since he wore jeans and nothing else. With my highly developed detective skills, I deduced the shirts hanging on the line were his. He struggled to his feet in a manner that suggested he’d had a bit to drink.
I looked from him to Pearl. “Who’s this?”
“Name’s Lucky. He’s a good friend of mine.”
“What’s he doing here?”
“What’s it look like? He’s hanging out.”
I took in the whole of him with a flick of my eyes, not wanting to stare. I placed him in his sixties. He was a scrawny man, but I could see he’d been muscular once upon a time, his frame now diminished by the years. He was so papered over with tattoos it looked like he’d plastered himself with a soggy sheet of Sunday funnies. The tattoos must have been done when he was in his teens because maturity had added a thick mat of chest hair that obscured some of the art. Age had loosened his skin and several sections of his human sketchbook had sagged, spoiling the effect.
He settled into one of Henry’s Adirondack chairs and extended his legs and bare feet. Beside him, there was a Styrofoam cooler filled with ice and packed with cans of a generic-brand beer. He removed one, popped the tab, and sucked down the contents. I expected an unceremonious belch, but his dainty manners prevailed.
I turned to Pearl. “Does Henry know about this?”
“What’s it to him? This guy’s broke and he’s got no place to stay, so I made room in my tent. Henry ain’t out anything and besides, he hadn’t said no.”
“Have you asked?”
“I will as soon as he gets home.”
“Lucky wasn’t here when he left?”
“He was asleep inside and I guess Henry didn’t notice him. Anyways, it’s none of your business if I entertain my friends. I got rights same as you.”
“Now we’re talking about rights?”
Lucky said, “Now, ladies, there’s no need to fuss. I’m only here for the night on account of the fella at Harbor House kicked me out. And before you ask, I’ll tell you straight out. I was drunk and unruly and the shelter won’t put up with that. Tomorrow, I’ll go back.”
“Good of you to own up. What makes you think they’ll take you?”
“Why wouldn’t they? Sober, I’m gentle as a lamb. It’s only eight or nine beers makes me surly and cantankerous.”
When he grinned, he showed dimples and dark gaps where the better part of his back teeth had been. “I wouldn’t have had them beers in the first place except my dog disappeared. He’s been with me twelve years and now I don’t know where he’s at.”
“That’s too bad,” I said. “Have you called Animal Control?”
“No, but that’s a fine idea. Do you mind if I use your phone?”
“I do mind.”
“Said like someone with a stick up her butt,” Pearl remarked.
I took that moment to escape.
I unlocked the studio and let myself in, placing the mail on my desk and the typewriter underneath. The cat streaked out of nowhere and beat me to the finish line. I might have shooed him out again, but he was good company and put me in a better mood. I closed the door and scooped him up, perched myself on a kitchen stool, and settled him in my lap. Ed was a talkative little fellow and he seemed happy for the audience. Having expressed himself in full, he put his chin on his paws and went to sleep. I moved him to my sofa, where he remained.
I changed into my running clothes and headed for the bike path. My three-mile run is a wonderful way to erase stress. I’m not always in the mood, but I push myself anyway for the relief. I finished my cooldown and came back to the studio, where I showered and dressed.
At six forty-five, having savored a peanut butter and pickle sandwich and tossed my paper towel in the trash, I grabbed my shoulder bag and keys and locked the door behind me. I carried Ed back to Henry’s place and set him inside the kitchen door. I could hear Pearl and Lucky and Henry chatting in the living room while the evening news blasted from the television set. I smelled beef stew and homemade bread, feeling ever so faintly put-upon at the meal I’d missed. Having been raised as an only child, it’s not in my nature to “share.”
The days were getting shorter as autumn crept in, but it was still light outside and the air was pleasantly warm. The drive into town was quick and there was ample parking behind the condominium. I cut through the covered vestibule and emerged onto State Street, where a quick left turn put me at the wooden door that opened onto the stairs. I trotted up to the second floor and knocked.
Hollis answered the door. “You must be Kinsey. I’m Hollis McCabe. We appreciate your stopping by.”
He extended his hand as he introduced himself. We made the usual polite mouth noises while he ushered me in. He appeared to be older than his wife by a good ten years, his once light-brown hair dusted with gray. He was tall and stoop-shouldered, casually dressed in a brown velour sweat suit. I picked up the scent of the cigar he’d smoked, but the effect wasn’t unpleasant.
He led the way into the living room. I took a seat on the couch while he crossed to a wet bar adjacent to the dining room. He poured bourbon over ice. “How about a drink? You’ll probably need one.”
“Sure. Chardonnay if you have it.”
“Of course.”
I could see then an open bottle of white wine, sitting in a cooler that was silvered with condensation. Lauren approached from the corridor that led to the library and the bedrooms. She wore a hip-length embroidered tunic over tight jeans and she carried an empty wineglass that Hollis topped off at the same time he poured wine for me. She crossed to the couch and settled at the other end.
“Thanks for making the trip.”
“I’m not far. Fifteen minutes max.”
I reached in my bag and removed the tape, which I held out to her.
“Thank you. I’m not sure what I’ll do with it, but it’s probably a good thing to have it in my control.” She set it on the end table beside her.
Hollis carried his bourbon to a chair and sat down, placing his drink on the end table next to him. “You want to fill her in before we get Fritz out here?”
“She should hear the story from him. It will save us the repetition.”
“Your call,” he said.
Lauren set aside her wineglass and walked down the hall. She paused at the first door on the left and knocked. “Fritz? Kinsey’s here.”
His reply was muffled and the tone was argumentative.
“Five minutes, please. She’s doing this as a courtesy,” she said.