When the dishes were cleaned she went to finish her packing in the bedroom, and called Andy in to help her get the last case down from the top shelf. She had to change for the street and he helped her with the zipper on her dress and this had just the effect she hoped it would have.
It was after midnight when the last bag was packed and she had put on her gray street dress and was ready to leave.
“Did you forget anything?” Andy asked.
“I don’t think so, but I’ll have a last look around.”
“Shirl, when you came here, moved in, I mean, did you bring any towels or bed linen or anything like that with you?” He pointed toward the rumpled bed and seemed uncomfortable about something.
“No, nothing like that, I just had a bag with some clothes in it.”
“I was just hoping that you owned some of these sheets. You see—well, I only have one, and it’s getting old, and they cost a fortune these days, even used ones.”
She laughed. “You sound like you’re planning to spend a lot of time in bed. Now that you remind me, I remember, two of these sheets are mine.” She opened her bag and began swiftly to fold and pack them away. “He owed me at least this much.”
Andy carried the suitcases into the hall and rang for the elevator. Shirl stood for a moment, watching as the apartment door closed, then hurried after him.
“Doesn’t he ever sleep?” Andy asked as they crossed the lobby toward Charlie, who stood at his post by the front door.
“I’m not sure,” Shirl said. “He always seems to be around when something is happening.”
“Hate to see you leaving, Miss Greene,” Charlie said as they came up. “I can take the keys to the apartment now, if you want me to.
“You better give her a receipt,” Andy said as she handed the keys over.
“Be happy to,” Charlie said imperturbably, “if I had anything to write on.”
“Here, put it in my notepad,” Andy said. He looked over the doorman’s shoulder and saw Tab coming out of the guardroom.
“Tab—what are you doing here at this time of night?” Shirl asked.
“Waiting for you. I heard you were leaving and I thought I’d give you a hand with your bags.”
“But it’s so late.”
“Last day of the job. Got to finish it off right. And you don’t want to be seen walking around this time of night with suitcases. Plenty of people will cut your throat for less.” He picked up two of the bags and Andy took the third.
“Hope someone does bother me,” she said. “A high-priced bodyguard and a city detective—just to walk me a couple of blocks.”
“We’d wipe the street with them,” Andy said, taking back his notebook and leading the way through the door Charlie held open.
When they went out the rain had stopped and stars could be seen through holes in the clouds. It was wonderfully cool. She took each of the men by an arm and led the way down the street, out of the pool of light in front of Chelsea Park and into the darkness.
13
It had been strange climbing the stairway in the dark, sweeping the light over the sleeping figures on the stairs while Andy carried the bags up behind her. His friend Sol had been asleep, and they had gone quietly through his room into Andy’s. The bed was just big enough for both of them and she had been tired and curled up with her head on his shoulder and slept so soundly that she didn’t even know it when he had gotten up, dressed and left. She awoke to see the sun streaming through the window onto the foot of the bed and, when she kneeled with her elbows on the windowsill, she smelt the clean, fresh-washed air; the only time the city was ever like this was after a rainstorm. With all the dust and soot washed away it was wonderfully clear, and she could see the sharp-edged buildings of Bellevue rising above the lower jumble of tar-black roofs and stained brick walls. And the heat was gone, vanished with the rain, that was the best part. She yawned pleasurably and turned back to look at the room.
Just what you would expect from a bachelor, neat enough—but as empty of charm as an old shoe. There was a thin patina of dust on everything, but that was probably her fault since Andy certainly had not been spending much time here of late. If she could get some paint somewhere, a coat of it wouldn’t do that dresser any harm. It couldn’t have been more gouged and nicked if it had been in a landslide. At least there was a full-length mirror, cracked but still good, and a wardrobe to hang her things in. There was nothing to complain about, really, a little brightening up and the room would be nice. And get rid of those million spider webs on the ceiling.
A water tank with a faucet was on the partition wall next to the door, and when she turned it on, a thin brownish stream tinkled into the basin that was fixed on brackets beneath it. It had the sharp chemical smell that she had almost forgotten, since all the water in Chelsea Park was run through expensive filters. There didn’t seem to be any soap here but she splashed water on her face and rinsed her hands, and was drying them on the tattered towel that hung next to the tank when a clanking, squealing sound came through the partition in front of her. She couldn’t imagine what it possibly could be, though it was obviously coming from the room next door where Sol lived. Something of his was making the noise, and it hadn’t started until after he heard her moving around and running the water, which was nice of him. It also meant that, as far as sound went, this room had as much privacy as a birdcage. Well, that couldn’t be helped. She brushed her hair, put on the same dress she had worn the night before, then added just a touch of makeup. When she was ready she took a deep breath and opened the door.