Liar & Spy (14 page)

“Whatever you want,” he says.

When we’ve eaten and finished our oranges, our waitress sets down the cookie plate. “Three fortunes,” she says, “plus a special message from the chef.”

Yum Li has put the third fortune cookie into the smallest to-go container I have ever seen. And underneath it is a napkin with writing on it.

Dad picks up the napkin, turns it back and forth, and laughs. “Not bad!”

It’s a hand-drawn map, with a big red X on the corner where the nearest Met Foods is—the same one where that bird flew into the glass.

Directions to the grocery store.

When we walk into the apartment, we hear a voice leaving a message on the answering machine: “It’s Sophia here, Martin. I’m just checking in to—”

Dad grabs the phone and walks to his bedroom. “Hello? I’m here, I’m here. What’s—” The door closes behind him.

I leave the tiny white box from Yum Li’s next to the Scrabble tiles on my desk and spell out a note for Mom:

GOOD NIGHT COOKIE
LOVE ME

Then I fall asleep faster than I think I have ever fallen asleep in my life.

Break and Enter (#3)

Sunday morning, the phone rings and stops, rings and stops, slowly tugging me out of sleep until I’m awake enough to wonder why Dad isn’t answering it.

I sit up and look at my desk. The white box from Yum Li’s is gone, and there’s a message from Mom:

YUM COOKIE
LOVE YOU

The phone starts up again.

“Today’s the day, Georges. Mr. X went out this morning. We’re going to find whatever the key opens. This is it.”

“No,” I say. “There’s no way either of us is going back into that apartment.”

“Last time, Georges. I promise. Scout’s honor.”

“No.”

“Have I ever asked you for anything?” Safer says. I walk to the fridge, where Dad has left a note that says
@ the hospital
.

“Are you kidding?” I ask Safer. “You asked me to be your lookout the other night while you
committed a crime
.”

“You said no,” he points out.

“And then you tricked me into going into a stranger’s apartment.”

“That was purely voluntary. Very brave. Anyway, you said you forgave me.”

“You asked me to stall your mom when you were going through Mr. X’s laundry. I looked like an idiot and got brown goop on my leg.”

“Besides that.”

You asked me to lie to my dad
, I think.

“Well, I’m asking for something now,” he says, as if we’ve just established that he’s a saint who’s never asked a single person for anything. “I need you to back me up on the lobbycam. That’s all, Georges. It’s hardly anything.”

“And I’m saying no.”

“This is the last time, Georges. I’m going to hang up and give you a few minutes to think about it.”

I eat a bowl of cereal.

The phone rings.

“The answer is still no,” I say.

“Don’t you ever say hello?” It’s Bob English Who Draws.

“Sorry! I thought you were—”

“Someone else. I know.”

“What’s up?”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Again?”

“Very funny. Look, I figure the taste test will probably be Tuesday or Wednesday. The unit is almost over.”

He’s right. In two or three days, I’ll officially be the biggest steaming pile of spaz in the seventh grade.

“So if you’re absent on Tuesday and Wednesday, you’ll almost definitely miss it.”

“You mean skip class?”

“Of course not. I’m just saying if you’re not feeling well or something.”

“I feel fine.”

“Think about it.”

I tell Bob I’ll think about it. As soon as I put the phone down, it rings again.

“I know what I’m looking for this time,” Safer says. “But I would feel a lot better if you had my back. I’ll give you some more time to think about it.”

I get dressed, telling myself I won’t answer the phone when he calls. But then I do.

“Do you have my back, Georges? Can I count on you?”

I stand there holding the phone. What I’m thinking is that Safer is the only actual friend I’ve got, unless you count Bob English Who Draws. Should I count Bob English Who Draws?

“You still there?” Safer asks.

“I’m here.” I walk over to the lobbycam. Standing in my own private hallway looking at my own private intercom can’t be against the law, can it?

“Fine,” I tell him. “But this is the last time. The lobby is all clear. You’re good to go.”

“I knew it, Georges! Knew I could count on you. Look—forget banging on the pipe. I’m on Pigeon’s cell phone, so I’ll
bring it with me and we can keep talking. If you see Mr. X on the lobbycam, just give me a shout.”

Great. Burglary by telephone. I’m probably about to take one giant step toward the definition of conspiracy.

I hear a
swish-swish
sound through the phone and I know Safer is on the move—it’s the same sound I hear when Dad sticks his cell phone in his pocket and it accidentally calls home.

Swish-swish
.

Swish-swish
.

Then nothing for a little while.

Then Safer’s voice: “Okay, I’m in.”

“So what are you looking for, exactly?”

“A book,” he says.

“A book that locks?”

“Yes—I did some research online. I think it’s a key to a diary—something old. He must lock it for a reason. Maybe he keeps a list of his victims or something.”

“Just make sure you don’t end up on that list.”

“Why are you whispering, Georges?”

“Because this is crazy!” I say. “It’s the middle of the day. What if he comes home and walks in on you?”

“Now you’re whispering and yelling at the same time. Who knew you were so talented? Anyway, that’s what you’re there for, Georges. To protect me.”

Which makes me feel vaguely sick.

“Okay,” Safer says. “There are a couple of bookshelves, and then I have to go through the desk drawers and stuff. I’m
sticking the phone in my pocket, but I’ll leave it on so you can hear me.”

My mouth is dry, but I don’t want to risk the thirty seconds it would take to get water from the kitchen sink.
Think of Safer
, I tell myself.
He’s crazy, but he’s your friend. And he’s up there with the handsaw, alone
.

“Okay, the bookshelves have just regular books,” I hear him say. “I’m checking the desk drawers.”

Swish-swish
.

“Nothing in the desk drawers. I’m going to check over by his bed.”

Swish-swish
.

Swish-swish
.

The intercom turns itself off, and I push the button to reactivate it. When the picture comes back, there’s someone in the lobby. A tall man in a black jacket, with a suitcase.

“Safer,” I whisper.

Nothing. Not even a
swish-swish
.

I realize I’m whispering into Safer’s pocket.

“Safer!” I yell.

Nothing.

The tall man has let himself into the lobby. I start pushing random buttons on my phone, thinking it might make Safer’s phone beep and catch his attention. The tall man is waiting for the elevator.

I run to the kitchen and grab a big spoon. I start banging on the heating pipe, three quick, three slow, three quick. I drop the spoon and push more phone buttons. “Safer, Safer!” I yell.

I hear a dial tone. I must have disconnected the call by
pushing so many buttons. Stupid. So stupid! I don’t even know Pigeon’s cell phone number, so I can’t call him back.

On the lobbycam, the tall man is getting into the elevator, dragging his suitcase behind him. I give up on the phone and run out our front door, into the hallway. I take a deep breath and push the elevator button. I can’t let Mr. X find Safer in his apartment. I have to stall him. And if I’m there, the guy can’t kill him, because there’ll be a witness.

Unless he kills both of us.

The elevator is coming.
Maybe it isn’t Mr. X
, I think.
Maybe this is someone completely different, here to stay with a friend. Maybe it’s some French person visiting Mr. Gervais on the fifth floor
. I breathe.

The elevator door opens. The tall man is standing there in his black jacket next to his suitcase. I notice his pants are black too. Lots of people wear black, I remind myself. Probably French people, especially.

The man smiles at me. “Going up?”

No trace of an accent.

Mr. X

I nod. But I don’t get in.

“Well, come aboard, son! I’ve had a long trip, and I am ready to be home.”

I step into the elevator.

“Where to?” he says. His hand is hovering in front of the buttons.

Wait a minute. This can’t be Mr. X.
Mr. X doesn’t talk
. Relief rushes at me. I exhale.

“Uh—four,” I croak.

“Four! Same as me.”

Unless Safer was wrong about Mr. X not talking.

“Well, me and the Koffers. But you must know that, if that’s where you’re headed. I thought they were away until June. Maybe their trip was cut short too.”

I try to think like a spy. “Oh yeah, they’re away. I’m feeding their cat.”

“Cat?” He looks confused. “Since when do the Koffers have a cat?”

“I mean,
plants
. I’m feeding their plants. I fed somebody’s cat last week.”

We get to four. It doesn’t take long for the elevator to go exactly one floor up. He holds the door open for me. “So you’re a businessman, huh? Maybe you could feed my dog sometime. I’ve got a dog walker already, but I could probably find some work for you.” He smiles. He kind of reminds me of a friendly fisherman from a commercial for frozen fish sticks.

“You have a dog?” I ask stupidly.

“Yup. She’s been away, though, like me. I get a lot of travel this time of year, so I lent her to my cousin out on Long Island. His kids are crazy about her.”

Something is off. I realize that something is off, but mainly I’m worried about Safer. I can’t let this man walk in and find Safer going through his stuff.

I’m standing there without any idea what to do next. What do you do to distract a potential killer who seems like one of the nicest guys in the world? I remind myself that in movies the bad guys are always pretending to be good guys. That way when they suddenly act evil, it’s extra-scary. Extra-scary makes good movies. But I have no desire to experience it in real life.

He’s getting his keys out. I stand in front of the Koffers’ door. Whoever they are.

He’s watching me. “Everything okay over there?” He’s got his door open and he’s pushing his suitcase in ahead of him. I’m imagining Safer somewhere inside, having the realization that Mr. X has come home. That he’s trapped in there.

“Um, no,” I say. “I—forgot the key. I’ll have to go home
and get it.” I’m listening hard for Safer. What is he thinking right now? Will he come running out of the apartment? Will he hide under the bed? Whatever he’s doing, I figure I must be buying him some time, at least.

“Oh, don’t bother,” Mr. X says. “I have a set of their keys inside. Wait right here.”

“No,” I call after him, “it’s okay. Anyway, I have this, um, plant food downstairs. Special plant food. I forgot that, too.”

He smiles. “Plant food? Is this for that little spider plant they have in the kitchen? I never realized they were so serious about that thing.”

“Um, it’s sick. It’s got a disease. I have the medicine and stuff. For it.”

“Oh.” Now he’s just staring at me, and it’s obvious he thinks I’m weird, like he’s not so sure he wants me feeding his dog after all.

Safer’s had plenty of time to hide by now. He hasn’t made a run for the door, so I figure he must be planning to wait until Mr. X goes into the bathroom or something, and then he’ll come out from under the bed and make his escape. I might as well let him get on with it.

“So, bye!” I say.

And I run back downstairs.

The phone is ringing when I fling my door open. I’m sweating and my head is pounding.

“Hello?”

“Hey, we must have gotten cut off.” It’s Safer. “You still on the cam?”

“Safer, are you okay? Where are you?”

“At you-know-who’s. I’m right by the front door, ready to leave. Just checking in for the all-clear.”

“For the all clear? Safer, are you still—upstairs? At Mr. X’s?”

“Yup, ready to go when you say when. You won’t believe what I found, Georges. I have a lot to tell you.”

And that’s when I figure it out.

It’s like Sir Ott—all those little dots coming together to make a picture.

“Just a second, Safer. I think one of the Koffers is coming in. You better sit tight for a minute.”

“Really? Okay. I’ll wait for your word.”

“Don’t move.” I put the phone receiver down very gently on the kitchen counter, and then I run up to Safer’s apartment.

I don’t ring the bell. I knock, very quietly.

Candy answers the door. “What’s wrong with the bell?”

“Nothing. Is Safer here?”

“Of course,” she says. “Safer is always here.” And she lets the door swing open. I rush past her and down the hall to the living room. Quietly.