I glanced down at myself and was reminded that I only had my bra on. Even that was slightly askew, reveling more of my breasts than I cared to share with the world. I yelped and slipped into the shirt. Garrison was soon back down with four cops, three of which went to the laundry room and one of them followed Garrison back to his apartment to talk to me. The cop introduced himself as Officer Cranston.
“Mr. Garrison here tells us you were in some sort of a fight,” Officer Cranston assumed. “Did you need medical attention?”
I shook my head. “I’m fine, just a bump on the head, but I wasn’t really in the fight. I just kind of watched it.”
“Can you describe to me what happened?” I described as best I could the happenings of the evening, and he jotted everything down in his book. “And how long would you say you were out?”
“I don’t know. What time is it?”
“Almost eight,” Garrison spoke up. “I heard some noises in the laundry room and when I flicked on the light I found Miss Taylor on the ground.”
“You let us in through the front door, Mr. Garrison. How do you think these other fellows got inside?” Cranston wondered.
Garrison shrugged. “They could have a key, or maybe they picked the lock.”
“Or they have a room here,” I suggested. “One of the guys did look kind of familiar.”
“What about this mystery shadow man? What did you see of him?” Cranston asked me.
I shook my head. “Not much except that he stood six feet tall and had some yellow eyes.”
“Yellow eyes?” Cranston repeated in disbelief.
“Yellow eyes,” I reaffirmed with a frown.
Another officer came into the apartment, and Cranston turned to him. “Well, Perkins?”
Perkins shook his head. “It’s a real mess in there, sir. Lots of blood and damage, but no sign of where they went or who they were,” Perkins told him.
Officer Cranston glanced over to Garrison. “We’ll have to seal off the room for a few days to gather evidence.”
Garrison smirked. “There won’t be much use looking for fingerprints. I clean that place pretty often but too many people use it.”
“It’s the blood we’re after. Hopefully we’ll be able to trace the crooks and the fellow who beat them up.”
Garrison raised an eyebrow. “The fellow? Why him?”
“To thank him for doing this neighborhood a favor and tell him he should watch his back. The Green Bandannas aren’t going to let him get away with his life if they can help it.” Cranston turned to me. “I’ll have to warn you to watch your back, too, Miss Taylor. If word gets out that you know who beat them up, the Bandannas are going to go after you to find out what you know.”
Garrison stood behind me and put his hands on my shoulders. “I’ll keep an eye out for her,” he offered.
Cranston looked the skinny nerd up and down, and smiled. “Are you sure? These guys are pretty tough. If you feel threatened by any strange noises or men, Miss Taylor, don’t hesitate to call us.”
I nodded and promised myself I’d put 911 on speed dial. “Sure thing.” The cops left to seal off the laundry room and I slumped back in my chair. “Just great. I go to clean some messy laundry and end up getting into a bigger mess with the Bandanna gang.”
Garrison patted me on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll be all right.”
I oozed over the table and stuffed my head into my folded arms. “Only if my guardian angel with yellow eyes keeps looking out for me,” I muttered.
Garrison slipped into his seat and had a peculiar smile on his face. “What if I told you that your guardian angel was looking out for you right now?”
I lifted my head and frowned. “I’d say I have an invisible stalker.”
He chuckled. “Invisible except when someone needs their sink fixed or a light bulb changed.”
“Um, I’m not following you.”
“What if I told you I’m your guardian angel?”
I looked him up and down. He didn’t look like the six-foot shadow I saw earlier. “Growth spurt?” I asked him.
Now it was his turn to be bewildered. “Pardon?”
“You’re not exactly tall, and that guy I saw was tossing those gang members like they were footballs.”
Garrison stood up and flexed his wimpy arm muscles. “You don’t think this could throw someone ten feet?”
“Maybe if you had a giant slingshot,” I teased.
He sighed and shrugged. “You can’t blame a guy for trying to win a girl’s affections.”
“Yes I can, but I’ll forgive you for your lying.” I stood up and wobbled on my feet. He scurried around the table and kept my rubber legs from buckling beneath me.
“Wouldn’t you rather stay here for the night? I can take the couch,” he offered.
I shook my head. “I’d rather be in my own bed, but if you could help me up the stairs that would be great.”
“All right. Just lean on me and we’ll get going.” Garrison showed more strength than I gave him credit for as he hefted me down the basement hall and upstairs to the lobby. The staircase was a winding snake of wooden steps in a narrow shaft. When you stood at the top you could look straight down to the lobby. At the bottom of the stairs Garrison paused and looked up.
“It’s times like these I wish this place had an elevator,” I muttered.
“That would be convenient.”
“Which explains why one isn’t in this place.”
“I suppose there’s only one thing we can do.”
“Build an escalator?” I suggested.
“No, this.” He swooped me into his arms and stepped up the stairs. I clung onto his thin frame and was surprised to find there was some muscle underneath those dorky clothes.
“Could you have warned me before you did that?” I snapped at him.
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Don’t you like surprises?”
“No!”
“I’m afraid I have another one for you.”
“What now?”
“We’re here.” During our little discussion he’d hurried up four flights of stairs to my floor. I was so surprised my mouth dropped down to the lobby. He set me down on the floor and I stared at him in disbelief.
“How did you do that?” I asked him.
He shrugged. “One foot in front of the other.”
“But at what? The speed of internet?”
“Maybe you just weren’t paying attention.”
“Because you were distracting me.”
“Maybe I used my slingshot,” he teased as he led me to my room. He had all the keys and mine was under impound in the laundry room, so he unlocked the door and let me inside.
“Maybe you’re full of bullshit.”
“I prefer the term cow manure.”
I rolled my eyes and nodded at a chair in front of my television. “Just set me down in my chair.” He plopped me down and seated himself on the coffee table between me and the flat screen.
“Are you sure you’re going to be all right?” he persisted. “Did you want me to sleep on your couch for tonight? Or I could make a fort out of the cushions and put you in the middle to make you safe.”
“Um, yeah, I think these four walls will be safe enough,” I replied.
Garrison sighed and stood up. “All right, have it your way.”
“Naturally, I’m a girl.”
“I’ll be sure to get a new key for you tomorrow. Anything else you might need?”
“Yeah, an uneventful weekend.” I slumped down and sighed. “For once I wish I’d been out partying instead of trying to have a relaxing Friday night at home.”
Garrison looked over my long face, and then glanced at the kitchen. “You want me to fix you something to drink? Could take your mind off things.”
“I don’t think-”
“Good, I’m glad you agree, and I know just the drink that will give you a good night’s rest.” He hurried over past my chair to the kitchen and banged all the cupboards shut searching for the ingredients to his concoction. After seeing his coffee a new offer of a drink wrenched my stomach.
I turned around in my chair and glanced over the back. He’d already found a knife and was cutting away at an innocent orange with my blender at his side. “I’m fine, really,” I called to him. Or I would be if he’d stop trying to spoon feed me his drinks. “I just want to get to bed and sleep until Doomsday.”
“Got any vodka?” he asked me.
“Um, no, and as I was saying I’ll be perfectly fine without-”
“Damn it!” he swore. He held up his hand and grimaced at his fingers.
“What happened?” I stumbled out of my chair and to the bar that separated the kitchen from the living room. He turned his back to me so I couldn’t see what was wrong.
“It’s nothing, just a flesh wound.”
“Uh-huh, turn around and let me see it. I don’t want anybody bleeding to death on me.” Garrison turned around and the hand he clutched had a nice, thick slice of dried blood on the top of his middle finger. “Ouch. Get some water on that, stat.”
“It’s nothing, just some tomato,” he insisted. There was a cut tomato beside the sliced orange.