1 Odds and Ends (3 page)

Chapter Six

Margot darted out the front door to her new apartment building. Well, darted probably wasn’t a good word for the speed at which she moved. Besides the fact that her hip was still achy. Maybe she should see a doctor.

She stared at the spot where the moving van had been. A tiny car that looked like a toy occupied the space. Her heart raced, and she leaned on the banister for support. Where? All of the things she had brought with her weren’t in the apartment. They couldn’t all fit, and recalling the size of the basement compartments, surely not there either.

“You must be the new tenant.”

Hearing the sultry voice behind her, Margot turned. A woman of medium height, very slender but curvy figure, and a shock of long white-blonde hair stood before her.

“Yes, I’m…” Distracted, for the moment Margot forgot to introduce herself properly. “I have to call the moving company. There’s been a mistake.”

The woman stepped aside, drawing Margot’s gaze to impossibly high heels. How could she walk in those with such thin ankles? Margot made it a few steps into the hall before she recalled her manners and turned back to find the woman watching her with an expression of dislike.

Margot gasped, and the woman schooled her face to a friendly smile. “Zabrina Fague.”

“Margot Gardner. I’m sorry, dear. I am so distraught over my things. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Margot held out a hand to shake, but Zabrina ignored it.

“Nice to meet you, Margot. Can I call you Margot?”

“Of course.” Margot dropped her hand to her side and flattened her palm against her pants leg. She had never in her life been made to feel beneath someone, but Zabrina made her feel that way. “I have to go.”

She spun away intending to return to her apartment to call Peter about the theft. He had questioned her and Kenny extensively about the superintendent, but since she had nothing to share other than last time she spoke with Mr. Patterson was a week ago. Peter had left after that and had apparently already questioned the other tenants.

Music with a distinct scratchy element to it drifted into the hall as she passed a particular door, and Margot froze. That was her album, purchased at a music store back in Briney Creek during her third date with Lou. Surely it wasn’t a coincidence.

Margot banged on the door until her knuckles ached. “Hello? Is anyone home?”

The music halted, and a sing-songy voice called out. At that moment, the little silver cat padded down the stairs at the end of the hall and joined Margot in waiting at the door. She glared at him. He blinked back.

“Why are you here?”

She expected to hear his voice in her head, but there was only silence. Good, the hallucinations had worn off. The door opened, and she turned to face the older woman at the door.

Pink hair curlers and a flowered housedress, the woman appeared to be Margot’s age or a mite older. She clapped pudgy pink-tipped hands together. “Oh, goodie, visitors.”

Margot ignored the fact that she looked from her to the cat and back again and peered beyond the woman’s shoulder, straining to see if there was evidence of the theft. Peter would need proof.

The cat sauntered past the woman’s legs, and she giggled. “He’s a cute little thing. What’s his name? Oh, come in, honey. Come right in.”

Margot hesitated. Thieves didn’t invite one right in, did they? She didn’t know any personally of course, except what she had seen on television. All of Lou’s staff had been loyal and honest, except that one fellow who had been let go two years ago. Once again, she missed Judy.

Finding herself gently pulled forward, Margot stumbled over the threshold into the apartment. Heat hit her square in the face, and she fanned herself, feeling beads of moisture begin to form on her upper lip.

“Make yourself comfortable. I already know you’re Margot Gardner. The news travels fast around here. I’m Nancy Shirley, and I just finished baking a turkey. Do you want some? I’ve got homemade mashed potatoes and corn on the cob, too. Hmm, I wonder if I shouldn’t toss some biscuits into the oven.”

Margot drew in a shallow breath. Her head spun. “You cook your own food?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she recalled her circumstances. Of course Nancy cooked for herself. Probably everyone in the building did.

Nancy smiled. “You mean do I know how? Oh, yes, my dear mother taught me everything she knew before she passed. I even have all of her cookbooks around here somewhere.”

Meow.

Margot looked over at the window. The cat had jumped onto the sill. He had the right idea, she realized. If she didn’t get a bit more air, she might pass out for the second time that day.

“Do you mind turning down the air conditioning a little, Nancy?” she asked. “It’s a little warm.”

“I don’t have air conditioning.” She pointed to the ceiling fan, which whirred but did nothing to cool the air. Margot was struck with horror. Surely, she kidded, it being July in New York.

“No air conditioning?” She had assumed every place had it. Wait, what if she had none? Being poor equaled no central air conditioning? “But you’ve been cooking, and it’s hot.”

Margot hated the whiny tone to her voice. She had already determined not to feel sorry for herself anymore. Enough of that had been done right after the reality of her situation kicked in, which was three days following the news of Lou’s treachery.

“Well, I guess you can open the window,” Nancy suggested. “You do that while I make your plate.”

“I—” Margot began, but Nancy disappeared from the room.

Margot rushed to the window, and the cat leaped from the sill to an overstuffed chair. After fighting to get the window raised, Margot sat on the sill puffing to catch her breath. She scanned the crowded living room. Every available space had been taken up with furniture, a couch, a loveseat, two armchairs, and end tables everywhere the seats didn’t fill.

The walls in this apartment were also covered in outdated wallpaper, but Nancy had hung family photos and other artwork in such abundance, more of the paper was hidden. The record player had been placed on one of the end tables, too big and bulky to fit properly. Margot hurried to inspect the 33 on it.

“This is mine,” she shrieked. “And this crystal vase!”

“Thank you for it, honey. I love it,” Nancy said from the doorway.

“What do you mean thank you?” Margot snatched the record from the player and looked around her for the cover. “I didn’t give it to you.”

“No, I paid three dollars for it and a few other items. My collection is enriched.”

“Three do—” Aghast, Margot couldn’t finish the sentence. “Explain yourself before I call Peter.”

Nancy frowned. “Peter?”

Margot dug into her pocket and pulled out the business card Peter had given her. She waved it in the air. “The detective that was here earlier. I have his number.”

“Oh, wasn’t that just awful about the Mr. Patterson,” Nancy chirped, still the happy thief. “Peter was his name? Well, I hope he finds out who did it before too long. I for one won’t be able to sleep a wink knowing we have a killer in our midst.”

“The record,” Margot reminded her.

Nancy set two plates piled too high with food on one of the tables and waved her hands in dismissal. “You’re welcome, honey. Let me get the money.”

Margot was too stunned to reply. Nancy disappeared once again and returned moments later with a wad of bills. She reached for Margot’s hand and dumped them into her palm. Margot stared at the twenties, tens, fives, and mostly ones in disbelief.

“Trust me, it’s all there. I counted and recounted every time I sold an item. I wouldn’t let them bargain me down too much either. I got you a fair price for the entire lot.”

“Bargain…
entire?”

The room dipped and swayed. Margot grabbed for a chair back. A bit of dust rose from the cushion, tickling her nose. A twinge in her hip made one knee wobble.

Green eyes blinked up at her from directly in front of her feet.
“Better sit before you fall.”

And the talking cat was back. Lovely.

Chapter Seven

“If I do, I’ll fall on you and squish you!”

“Who are you talking to, Margot?” Nancy asked cheerily. “Come over and sit down. Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

Margot stared at the cat, waiting for a smart remark about scratching her again. He said nothing. She grumbled. The loss of her things. That’s what did it. Falling into a chair closer to the crazy old woman—and she was one to talk—Margot listened while Nancy explained that she had the brilliant idea to have an impromptu sidewalk sale to get rid of all of Margot’s extra items.

“Of course I bought as much as I could afford. You had such beautiful things, I would have loved to take them all off your hands. If I had the room, I swear, I would have made a payment plan.”

The words “you had no right” hung on Margot’s lips, but what good would it do now? Nancy had shared that people had driven up to buy, stuffed their cars with her precious odds and ends, and driven away. Who knew where they had come from or where they had gone.

Margot counted the bills she had been given. “This doesn’t even cover the second Victorian. I know because I purchased the set myself with my credit card.” She didn’t mention that same credit card had been canceled. She had already checked—by trying to purchase again.

“Of course not, silly.” Nancy shook her head. “We’ll never get what our precious items are really worth, not with a sidewalk sale. Who in this neighborhood could afford it anyway? I dare say you can use as much extra cash as possible, too. I know I could because I have a small budget. My son looks out for me, but I don’t like to depend on him.”

Through her haze of misery, Margot’s curiosity rose. “Your son?”

“John, yes. He’s a bank manager.” A sad expression came over her face. “I don’t get to see him often, but he sends a check regularly. How I miss him.”

Margot’s heart softened. “I imagine you do.”

“Do you have any children, Margot?”

“No.” She couldn’t bring herself to say more. The stupid cat swirled between her legs. She aimed a half-hearted kick at him, but he dodged it.

Nancy giggled. “Oh, but you do have a child.” She pointed at the fur ball. “What’s his name?”

Margot drew back in horror. “He’s not mine. He’s evil, and… he…”
He talks.
She bit her lip, not wanting to admit she would rather believe the cat talked than that she was crazy, which of course proved she was out of her mind.

Nancy laughed again. “I like the relationship the two of you have. It’s fun and playful. You pretend not to like him. He gives you that look. Yes, there it is. That one that says he thinks he’s smarter than you.”

“I am.”

Margot thumped her plate on the table and pushed awkwardly to her feet. She snatched the cat up from the floor, carried him to the door, and dumped him in the hallway before slamming the door closed.

“I suppose he knows his way home to his new place,” Nancy said. She had found nothing odd about Margot’s actions, and Margot sighed in resignation. Let the woman think what she wanted.

Margot sat down again and started up with eating her food. The flavors were delicious. Nancy was indeed a good cook, and Margot told her so.

“Thank you, my dear. You know, I could teach you if you’d like to learn.”

“Teach me! I’ve never, I mean, I wouldn’t…”

Margot trailed off as she glanced toward the kitchen. While she lived with Lou, she had no reason to go into the kitchen. Judy had made sure the cook made her whatever she wanted, any time of the day. When she was young, of course, she had eaten her afternoon snacks there. Her family had one housekeeper who cooked and cleaned. With Lou, the need never arose.

“Is it possible?” she asked. “For me, I mean.”

“Everyone can learn to cook, Margot.” Nancy set her fork down and clapped her hands. “This is exciting. We’re going to be best friends, and who knows, maybe I’ll be moving, and we’ll have more room.”

“Moving where?”

Nancy pointed up, and Margot cringed.

“Death?”

Nancy shook her head, grinning. A curler dangled, coming loose. “No, silly, third floor, into the superintendent’s apartment. It’s bigger than all of ours, and it opens onto a private section of the roof. Oh, what I could do with that space!”

A scratch at the door caught Margot’s attention, but she turned away from it. “Is that so? Sounds very nice. I wouldn’t mind seeing it.”

Nancy looked around as if there were someone who might overhear. Margot did the same and then realized the absurdity of it. “I’m not one to gossip,” Nancy said, and Margot doubted that was true, “but Coley always did look out more for himself than anyone else.”

“Well as the owner shouldn’t he get the best?”

“Owner?” The way Nancy looked at Margot, she realized she was showing her ignorance again, and her face flamed. “Coley was the
superintendent
, not the owner.”

Margot made a small sound of understanding as if it were now all very clear.

“None of us have ever met the owner face-to-face. He’s content to let Coley run everything and even hire less skilled contractors for repairs and stick the owner with the bill. Or rather, he used to do that.”

Nancy crossed herself.

Margot considered what she had shared. “So, maybe someone killed him to get the apartment?” After she said the words, Margot felt silly. No one wanted a bigger apartment that bad. Well, when she thought of the mansion where she had spent the last fifty years, a small itch of
something
welled up. That that was reserved for Lou, and it had more to it than just the house.

Margot expected Nancy to shoot down her suggestion of someone killing for Coley’s apartment, but Nancy said, “That’s possible. When my pipes burst last winter, and water ruined my new throw rug, Coley said it was my fault for letting the sink clog and breaking some tiny whatever inside the something. I was fit to strangle him myself.”

“That’s terrible,” Margot commented. “Did he get it fixed?”

“Yes, with a fight.” She waved a fist in the air, and the loose skin around her triceps giggled. “I might have killed him for that apartment.”

Nancy glanced around at her things with loving adoration, and Margot stirred in her seat. Her appetite dissipated, and she set her fork down. Then Nancy giggled, waggling her finger at Margot.

“I had you going there, didn’t I?” She slapped her knee, and the empty plate on her lap threatened to fall to the floor. “No, my mother raised a good person in me, Margot. However, I must be next in line. I’ve been here a long time.”

“In line?”

“I’ve always heard that the owner would hire the Super from a tenant. I’ve never seen it happen because Coley was around, but I’m expecting any time to get the call. Just you wait and see.”

“Um, well, I wish you luck, Nancy.” Margot slid to the end of her seat and set the plate she held on the table. “I really should be going. Thank you very much for the meal, Nancy. It was delicious.”

Nancy frowned and looked at the plate. “But you’ve hardly touched it.”

Margot touched her stomach. “I don’t have a big appetite.”

“Well, I guess I can bag it up if you’re sure it’s not that you don’t like it.”

“Bag it?” Margot’s eyes widened. “You mean like a doggie bag?”

“Yes, but I have Tupperware. I won’t actually use a bag.”

She laughed and rose with her own plate to carry into the kitchen. Margot sat where she was. Nancy expected her to take the leftovers?

“Bring the plate, honey, so I can scrape it into a bowl.”

Margot winced.
Scrape
it into a bowl
.
She picked up the plate with the tips of her fingers now, unable to push away the feeling of disgust. In the kitchen doorway, she hesitated, looking around. Here too Nancy had made use of every surface. Three themes collided—roosters, pumpkins, and flowers. Margot blinked a few times, taking it all in.

“Come on over,” Nancy encouraged her. “You act like you’ve never been in a kitchen. Give me that plate. I’m going to add some more of the turkey too. I’ll never eat it all.”

“Oh no, that’s not necessary.”

“Nonsense! You probably haven’t had the time to go to the store for food. This can be something for later if you get hungry again or even breakfast. I never let the time of day stop me. Course getting older makes that harder. Onions, for example, don’t agree with me anymore.”

Margot’s disgust faded away. “Me either! They have to be cooked. I can’t eat them raw anymore, haven’t been able to for years. Judy knows that and—”

“Who is Judy?”

“No one.” Margot smiled. “Thank you again, Nancy. I hope you enjoy the record.”

Her neighbor plopped a huge plastic bowl into her hands with all the food squishing together inside. “You’re welcome, and come over any time to listen.”

“I will.”