Apartment Seven (3 page)

“I’ll see ya again.” This time he said it more emphatically, and he and the bartender exchanged knowing glances like they were sharing a joke I wasn’t in on. “Be careful out there, Charlie. And remember what the book says.”

My coat pulled in tight around me, I gathered up my memories, threw open the door and slipped out into the night.

-2-

A block later, the neighborhood I found myself in was deserted and consisted mostly of rundown, out-of-business retail spots. Night had fallen while I was in the bar, and several of the streetlights here were not working, casting this and the next block in a deeper darkness than most of the city. As I stopped a moment and looked around to get my bearings, my cellphone rang. I checked the ID. Dino. He was my oldest friend, but until recently we hadn’t seen as much of each other as we used to. As I crossed to the next corner, I answered the call.

“Hey, it’s me. Been calling you all day. You in town?”

“Yeah, sorry, I—”

“Where are you? I’ll come pick you up. Got some info for you.”

I noticed a shadowy figure standing at the mouth of an alley on the opposite side of the street. In that moment, in this cramped little neighborhood, it occurred to me that we might as well have been the only two people left in the city. If something horrific happened in such a forgotten area, no one would hear my calls for help, or much care if they did. I kept moving. “Is it about Jenna?”

“Yeah, you anywhere near Chinatown?”

“Maybe five, six blocks out.”

When I was a little closer to the alley, a match flared and I realized the man was lighting a cigarette. For a brief moment the flame illuminated enough of his face for me to make out a white, badly scarred cheek but not much else. The match died just as he’d come into focus, and the man was returned to darkness.

“Meet me at
Wok Me Right
, just finishing up dinner there. My van’s out front, can’t miss it.”

“See you there.”

As I crossed the street and headed toward the intersection that would eventually lead me to Chinatown, I kept the phone to my ear and pretended the conversation with Dino was still taking place. For the first time, without feigning subtlety, I looked directly at the man in the alley. Although I could only make out the faint trace of a silhouette, I stared his way as if I could see him clearly, my expression neutral but firm.

The man remained perfectly still, the cigarette down by his side, its glowing ember the only indication that someone was actually still there.

They use the shadows.

The moment I’d moved beyond the mouth of the alley, I heard the soft rumble of quiet laughter. But there was no joy in it, no humor. It was a mean, sadistic laugh, full of contempt and malevolence that sent a shiver through me.

They’re everywhere, all around us
.

Returning the phone to my coat pocket, I quickened my pace.

I did not look back.

By the time I reached Chinatown, I felt like I’d returned to the world of the living. The city was bustling again, brightly lit and on the move, with plenty of people and cars on the street.

Dino was already outside the restaurant, leaned against his van with his arms folded over his chest. Dressed in jeans, motorcycle boots, an old army jacket over a hooded gray sweatshirt and a Boston Bruins cap worn backwards, he looked like the aging tough guy he was. Still in fairly good shape, in recent years time had begun to catch up with him. His hair and goatee were specked with gray and the lines in his face had become more pronounced. Though like me he was pushing fifty, he still possessed the old neighborhood swagger and an unspoken vibe that made most think twice about giving him a hard time.

We’d grown up in the same working-class suburb just north of the city, and had been friends since elementary school. Despite our significant differences, we’d remained close over the years. In high school, my grades were good enough to get me a scholarship to prep school. Dino attended a trade school and studied to be an electrician. I went on to college. Dino went to work. Later, when I’d had my struggles with addiction, he stood by me.

“Where you been?”

“Around.”

“Well not for nothin’, but I worry about your stupid ass, all right? How am I supposed to know you’re not dead in a gutter somewhere?”

“Why would I be dead in a gutter somewhere?”

“Look at the way you’re living again.”

“What are you, my mother?”

“Don’t compare me to your mother, she don’t deserve that. Rest in peace.” He blessed himself. “So where you staying?”

“I’ve got a place in town.”

He shook his head and flashed me a disapproving smirk. “You could stay with me and LuAnn, we got plenty of room.”

“I appreciate it, but don’t worry about it, all right? You said you had information for me.”

Dino’s expression grew more intense, and he looked beyond me, out into the night. “Yeah, and that other thing too.” He cocked his head toward the van. “Come on.”

A few minutes later he’d essentially circled the block and parked at the outskirts of Chinatown, a stone’s throw from the restaurant where we’d started out. When suddenly he had a revolver in his hand, my feelings of being trapped in a bad dream that just wouldn’t end returned with a vengeance.

“That’s it, huh?”

Rather than answer me he checked the weapon over like he’d done it countless times before. Despite his attempts to appear as if he knew what he was doing, the revolver was obviously heavy and foreign in his hand. “Yeah,” he finally said. “Got it through a buddy. Totally untraceable and it’s got a hell of a kick but…I’m just thinking maybe I should hang onto it for now.”

“It’s not going to do me any good if you keep it.”

“I’m just saying maybe you should think about it.”

The gun should’ve made everything all the more real and terrifying, but instead caused the situation to feel fantastic and artificial, like we were actors playing roles in some B-movie. “If you’re not going to give it to me what the hell did you bring it for?”

“I’m doing my best to help you out, OK? This is serious shit, Charlie.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

It was still early evening but night was in full swing, casting Boston in a shadowy winter haze. The brutal cold that had been strangling the city for days showed no signs of letup, and remnants of dirty snow from a recent storm still dotted the area here and there. Despite the grueling temperatures, mere feet from where we were parked, the people it seemed night itself produced had already begun to emerge, cloaked in shadow and half-light, bathed in dull neon, littering the corners and congregating beneath streetlights, waiting for something, anything that might rescue them from what their lives had become.

“I just don’t wanna do the wrong thing,” he said.

From its outskirts, I gazed at the bright lights of Chinatown and noticed a few nine-to-five stragglers hurrying to get home and escape the cold. It occurred to me then that Dino and I had no business in this part of town either, huddled in a beat up van playing thugs or sleuths or whatever the hell we were doing. We were old enough to know better.

“Fine,” I said, “just tell me the rest of it then.”

All he’d said to that point was that he’d been working a job in this area the week before. It ran late, and at nightfall, as he was packing up to head home, he’d noticed Jenna on a nearby street. “She looked like she was waiting on somebody,” he explained, “so I held back. Few minutes later this guy shows up and they take off walking together. Turns out it was your boy, Mysteryman2000.”

“So who is he?”

“There was a lot of people on the street,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard me, “and they were a ways off, so I didn’t get a good look at the guy. But they were definitely together, walking all arm-and-arm and shit.”

I forced a swallow, nearly gagged. The heater in his van was broken, and the temperature had quickly become unbearable. Thankfully, Dino had ordered two coffees to go before leaving the restaurant. I reached for a cup in the holder between the seats, but the moment I removed the lid I realized it was still too hot to drink. Normally I’d have laughed at the irony, but I was too weary to find humor in anything, and instead left the lid off and returned the cup to the holder.

“They got a cab.” He looked at me, his face bathed in the prosaic blue wash of dashboard light. “Went to Cambridge.”

“You followed them?”

He returned his gaze to the street. A few snow flurries appeared and blew about, beautiful and gracefully riding the winter wind as the night crawlers continued emerging from their lairs. The changing of the guard was nearly complete. Very soon now, the streets would once again belong to the people of the night. “I’m all for you teaching this prick a lesson he’ll never forget, but we’re not kids anymore, Charlie. You need to think long and hard about taking the piece. And, well, no disrespect, but it don’t look like you’re thinking clear yet.”

“Are you going to sit there and tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing?”

“I’d have it in my head, sure. But actually doing it is something else. Look, he should pay for what he did.” I realized Dino was still holding the revolver, and was now aiming it awkwardly at the dashboard. “But this shit’s for real, you understand? It’s no joke. This is murder we’re talking about.”

I rolled a cigarette between my lips but rather than light it, pulled it free and returned it to the pack. I had no idea what to do with myself, so I sat there squirming, and tried not to think about my wife and her new companion strolling around the city together.

“Another guy’s wife is off-limits,” Dino said in a surprisingly soft voice. “That’s the code. You don’t follow it, you’re a scumbag and deserve a beating.” He leaned over and put the revolver in the glove compartment. “But does he deserve to die, bro? Is he fucking worth that? End of the day, I know you don’t wanna hear this, but it’s Jenna’s fault. This guy didn’t force her to do nothing.”

The sick-to-my-stomach feeling slashed its way from the base of my throat right down to my groin and back again.

“She fucked up. Bad.” Tears welled in his eyes as a blank stare and an indescribable expression of pain crossed his face. In all the years I’d known him, the only time I’d ever seen Dino cry was the day his son was born. This nightmare had left me in agony to be sure, but to see him so hurt by my pain was one of the most touching and moving things I’d ever experienced.

I sat there, breathless and unsure of what to do or say.

“You’ve always been my friend,” he said. “You done some stupid shit in your life, but you’ve always been my friend and I got your back no matter what, OK? I’m just saying you need to use your head on this one.”

I nodded even though he wasn’t looking at me. The calmness I felt was eerie and more troubling to me than if I’d raged over the situation. I wanted to be angry, to smash something and scream, but all I could feel was the same draining sorrow I’d felt from the beginning.

“If LuAnn pulled this shit I’d smash the guy’s face in. I get it, all right?”

“Would you kill him, Dino?”

“Not unless I had to. Who knows? Maybe I’d kill her.”

When this first happened I told Dino about it but didn’t see him again for more than a week. I ignored his calls, texts and emails the entire time. Instead, I crawled into my misery and refused to come out. There were times in his life he’d done the same thing, so I knew he’d cut me slack and give me the room I needed. There wasn’t anything else to do. Sometimes you have to let people bleed. But now he wanted to help, wanted to be there for me in the only way he knew how, and I was grateful.

“Give me the information you’ve got.”

“For starters, I know exactly where he lives. I followed them that night.”

I tried my coffee again. It had cooled enough that I could get a sip or two in without scalding myself. “What’d you find out?”

“The guy’s name is Curtis Gwynn.”

The name meant nothing to me.

“He’s sixty-three, some old fart college professor. Has a place on a quiet little street in Cambridge. Lives alone. Single, never married. Fucking dweeb.” Dino grabbed his coffee, peeled back the lid and took a cautious sip. “But it gets worse. Last few times I followed her, she’s been going to a different place, a building only a few blocks from here, near the Theater District. Real shithole in a bad neighborhood she’s got no business being in, especially at night.”

“So what connection does the building have to this Gwynn guy?”

“None that I can figure out. When she goes there, she goes alone, stays the night.” He put his coffee down. “The address is Twenty-eight Ross Avenue. Apartment Seven.”

“How do you know which apartment she goes to?”

“Turns out it’s the only one that’s rented. The rest are vacant. From the street the building looks abandoned. This place is days from being condemned.” He pulled a fortune cookie from his jacket pocket and tore at the flimsy plastic wrapper encasing it. “Anyway, I went home with both addresses and did reverse lookups on one of those sites that finds people and gives you all their stats. Usually you can get tons of info on people, their job, phone numbers, relatives, friends; all kinds of shit. That’s how I got the rundown on Gwynn. Thing is, when I did one for the other address, the dump, only thing that came up was the name Errol Charceen. I guess at one time there was a phone under his name there but it was disconnected a long time ago.”