Laurie pushed open her door. It creaked on its hinges, which had been coated with a hundred layers of paint. From her vantage point in the hall, her apartment appeared as she had left it. She didn’t hear anything abnormal or see anything suspicious. Cautiously she stepped over the threshold, ready to flee at the slightest unexpected sound.
Out of the corner of her eye, Laurie saw something coming at her. Letting out a small involuntary cry that was more of a gasp than a scream, Laurie let go of her briefcase and raised her arms to defend herself. At the moment the briefcase hit the floor, the cat was on her, but only for a second. In the next instant it had leaped to the foyer table, and with its ears held flat against its skull, it scampered into the living room.
For a second Laurie stood in her doorway, clutching her chest. Her heart was beating as fast as it did after several games of racquetball. Only after she’d caught her breath did she turn back to her door, close it, and secure the multitude of locks.
Picking up her briefcase, Laurie went into the living room. The manic cat rushed from his hiding place and leaped to the top of the bookcase and from there to the top of the valance over the windows. From that vantage point it glared down at Laurie with playful anger.
Laurie went directly to her phone. Her answering machine light was blinking, but she didn’t listen to her messages. Instead she dialed Lou’s work number. Unfortunately, he didn’t pick up. Laurie hung up and started to dial his home number. But before she could finish dialing, her doorbell rang. Startled, she hung up.
At first she was afraid to go to the door, even to look out the peephole. The doorbell sounded a second time. She knew she had to act. She would see who it was, she told herself. She didn’t have to open up.
Laurie tiptoed to the door and peered out into the hall. Two men she didn’t recognize were standing there, their faces distorted by the wide-angle lens into exaggerated corpulence.
“Who is it?” Laurie asked.
“Police,” a voice called.
A feeling of relief spread over her as she began to unlock her locks. Could Bingham have made good on his threat to have her picked up? But he hadn’t said he’d do it, he’d only said he might.
After undoing the chain lock, Laurie paused. She again put her eye to the peephole. “Do you have identification?” she asked. She knew enough not to let anyone in on their word alone as to who they were.
The two men quickly flashed police badges in front of the peephole. “We only want to talk with you for a moment,” the same voice explained.
Laurie backed away from the door. Although she’d initially been relieved to learn that her visitors were police, now she was beginning to wonder. What if they were here to arrest her? That would mean they’d have to take her to the police station to be booked. She’d be questioned, held, maybe arraigned. Who knew how long that would take? She had to talk to Lou about much more important matters. Besides, he’d undoubtedly be able to help her if she were to be arrested.
“Just a moment,” Laurie called to them. “I have to put on some clothes.”
Laurie headed straight for her kitchen and the back door.
Tony exchanged looks with Angelo. “Should we tell her not to bother dressing?” he asked.
“Shut up!” Angelo whispered.
The click of old hardware sounded behind them. Tony turned around to see Debra Engler’s door opening a crack. Tony lunged toward the door and clapped his hands loudly to give Debra a scare. The tactic worked. Debra’s door slammed shut. About a dozen locks were audibly being secured.
“For Chrissake!” Angelo whispered. “What’s the matter with you? This is no time for screwing around.”
“I don’t like that witch looking at us.”
“Get over here!” Angelo ordered. He looked away from Tony, shaking his head. That’s when he caught a fleeting glimpse of a woman’s silhouette dashing by the wire-embedded, smoked glass of a door to the fire stairs.