Strange Neighbors (4 page)

   "I wanted to stop by to see how you're feeling."

   She put on a cheery smile and said, "Oh, fine! Hey, would you like to have dinner with me this evening?" She hoped he'd realize the legitimacy of her work excuse and give her another chance.

   "Yeah, I'd love that."

   Whew. Spending some time with her hot, new landlord could prove a welcome distraction.

   "So, did you have to talk to the police at all?" Merry asked.

   "No. Fortunately I was able to avoid it simply by stating the truth. I hadn't seen anything."

   "I guess either the cop wasn't a baseball fan and didn't recognize you or wore a good poker face. I would have felt terrible if the whole thing created negative press for you."

   "No. Konrad was the only eyewitness—and did you notice he seemed to know the cop who asked the questions? They nodded to each other and Konrad visibly relaxed as soon as he saw him."

   "Yeah, I saw that. I thought they might even be related. They have the same large build and facial features," Merry said.

   "Nothing was said, specifically, but I got the impression the news wouldn't make it to any reporters."

   "That's a relief. I wonder what the others' reaction to Sly meant. Why did they groan when they found out he had been the one left to deal with the criminal?"

Jason shrugged. "I didn't understand that either."

   She assumed the other residents knew something they weren't divulging. Sly did seem ominous in a dark, dangerous, and freakishly strong way. Adrenaline may have played a part, but she'd never seen a full grown man lifted like he weighed no more than a rag doll.

   Jason wandered around her small apartment. "Your place looks really cute."

   Merry appraised her work and decided he was right. Her kitchen table wore a new blue and green MacKenzie plaid tablecloth, a nice contrast to the white walls and appliances. Red pillar candles stood at differing heights in the living room fireplace, and a couple of favorite art books graced her coffee table that used to be an old trunk.

   "But why don't I have you up to my place? I can provide the salad, wine, music, and ambiance."

   "And I'll bet it's a little bigger."

   "Well, yeah. It takes up the whole top floor."

   "Okay, then. I'll cook and you can set the table."

   Now she had to shop for food. Why oh why did I offer to cook for Jason? I barely know where the stove is.

   He grinned. "Sounds like a plan."

   Yeah, she needed a plan. She could put together her famous lasagna and bake some bread sticks. She'd have to cheat and buy the frozen dough this time. Oh, and dessert. Not one, but three. She owed her rescuers some kind of thank you, and since home cooking was all she could afford, that would have to do. Hmm… Apples were in season.

   "Well, I'd better go grocery shopping!"

   "Until tonight," he said. Smiling, he let himself out

and closed the door.

   Part of her wanted to stay cocooned in her own safe space, but she couldn't stay locked up forever. She had to go out before dark. The grocery store was only a few blocks away, and rather than face the alley again she tugged on her jacket, found her strong mesh grocery bags, and set out for a brisk walk to the store.

   As she locked her apartment door behind her, Nathan appeared to be heading out, too. Wearing black with no reflectors, he wheeled a bicycle. Did everyone in this town wear nothing but black?

   "How's the neck?" he asked.

   "Oh, fine. It just needed a small bandage, nothing serious."

   "Well, you were lucky. I hope it doesn't get infected. Even little scrapes can turn really nasty. They can even cause death."

   "Yes, I'm a nurse and know about infections. I bathed it in hydrogen peroxide."

   "A nurse, eh? Where at?"

   "Boston General Hospital," she said.

   His eyebrows rose. "That's where I work too. What floor are you on?"

   "Five West. Evening shift." She inwardly squirmed at the golden sky that signaled approaching dusk.

   "Ah, you're in pediatric orthopedics. I don't get a lot of business from you."

   "Oh? Where do you work," she asked.

   "I'm in the morgue. Easy clients. They don't ask for much."

   "Ewwww." She immediately regretted her reaction. A morbid sense of humor would probably help in a job like that—and somebody had to do it. She figured he was a real party killer, though.

   Merry had carefully arranged it so her job minimized the likelihood of dealing with death. But her neighbor seemed unfazed. In fact, he grinned, as if pleased that his job came with shock value.

   She needed to get to the store, so she cleared her throat and said, "Well, I've got to go… Oh, by the way, do you know where Sly lives? I want to bake some kind of thank-you desserts for Konrad and him."

   Nathan tipped his head, as if sizing her up. Then he shrugged. "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but you seem like a nice girl. Sly doesn't exactly 'live' anywhere. He keeps his stuff in the basement, but don't tell anyone."

   "Oh—I see. He's homeless, then?"

   "I didn't say that. He has a roof over his head, he just doesn't live anywhere."

   The way he emphasized the word live made her realize she had missed some sort of big hint. She lowered her voice, and hoped that taking a conspiratorial tone might get him to open up. "What do you mean? I won't tell, I promise."

   "I mean, he's not alive. He's undead and only comes out at night. Hates garlic… Ring a bell?"

   "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

   "Yeah. We have a vampire in the basement."

   Merry thought she heard a short gasp from the top of the stairs and then a soft click.

   "Don't worry. You can use the laundry room down there without disturbing him. You might want to wash your clothes during the daylight hours—when he's dead to the world." Nathan laughed at his own joke, but Merry found nothing funny about it.

   Hair prickled on the back of her neck and her mouth dried up. Nathan must be crazy. And lucky me, I live right across the hall!

   She mutely followed him out the door and down the steps. Nathan mounted his bicycle, said good-bye, and rode away. A few feet down the sidewalk he looked back and called over his shoulder, "Don't bother baking a cake for Sly. He won't eat it—liquid diet and all. You can give it to me, though."

DOTTIE PACED ACROSS HER WORN CARPET IN FRONT OF Jason. Damn it. Why doesn't anyone listen to me?

   "He was probably joking, Aunt Dottie. Either that or he knew you were listening and thought he'd have some fun with you. I've noticed he has an odd sense of humor."

   She balled her fists and jammed them on her bony hips. "I know what I heard, Jason. Now if you don't want to investigate it, I'll send Ralph, but someone has to look in the basement. What if there's a coffin down there?"

   Ralph chuckled from the other room, then joined them. "I've been down there to clean the lint traps in the dryers, and while I'm there I check the water heater and oil tanks. I think I'd have noticed a coffin, dear."

   "Well, I'm not going down there until you check again, so I hope you enjoy doing your own laundry." Hey, maybe I can get some help around the apartment out of this scare, if nothing else.

   He smirked. "So it's okay for me to get bitten by the creepy vampire…"

   Uh-oh. Time to backpedal. She wouldn't be much use as a maintenance man if anything happened to Ralph.

   Dottie raked her fingernails over her scalp, through her short, graying permed hair. "You're right. I should call the police and make them check it out."

   "Please don't! I can't have them here all the time. It'll be in the newspapers and call attention to where I live."

   "Oh, you're being silly. No one will write a story about where you live. I'm sure they must know that celebrities want their privacy." Honestly! He's so full of himself sometimes.

   Ralph scowled. "And you think they'll respect that? Dottie, will you listen to your nephew? He owns the building and if he doesn't want the cops to arrive for every practical joke or minor incident, don't call the damn cops! He was nice enough to give me a job and us a place to live. If it weren't for him, I'd have been unemployed for a lot longer than eleven months."

   Jason sighed. "I'll check it out for you."

   "No. I don't want anything to happen to you, either. Didn't you say you were having dinner with the nurse downstairs?"

   He cast her a sidelong glance. "Yeah… Why? You don't want me to send her down there, do you?"

   "Well… No, of course not. Just ask her about what Nathan said. See if she thinks he was kidding."

   Ralph crossed his arms over the T-shirt that barely covered his beer belly. "For God's sake. There's no such thing as vampires, woman. And how is he supposed to do that without letting her know someone was eavesdropping?"

   She winced. Someone, meaning me, of course. No one appreciated her contribution. If they didn't want her to keep an eye on the place and manage it, why did they let her call herself the manager?

   "Fine!" Dottie stomped off to her bedroom and blasted her oldies radio station. At that moment "You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet" by Bachman-Turner Overdrive served as a warning.

   Just wait, you two. Something is going on here. I know it! And as soon as I can, I'll show you evidence and prove my usefulness—one way or another.

Merry's apartment smelled wonderful. The strong aromas of Italian food and cinnamon met Jason's nose as soon as she opened the door.

   "Wow, something smells delicious, Merry. I came to see if I could give you a hand when you're ready to bring things upstairs."

   "Thanks, that's nice of you. I have the lasagna in a glass casserole dish that's probably hot and heavy…" She blushed.

   Oops. Freudian slip much?

   "Uh, so if you want to take that, um… You'll need potholders. Here." She shoved the childish pot holders at him.

   "I never asked who made these. Do you have a niece or nephew?"

   "Nope. I made them—at summer camp about a zillion years ago. My father keeps everything." She blushed harder. "The dessert is just apple crisp."

   "Mmm… Lasagna. How did you know my number one weakness? And 'just' apple crisp? The only thing that could top that would be apple pie à la mode." She had changed the subject, so he'd tease her about the potholders some other time. "Man, I can hardly wait. I love those two things. You've got me salivating already." His mouth watered over more than the food. They hadn't discussed how to dress, and he'd assumed she'd wear something casual, like jeans and a sweater. But she wore a clingy red dress. He wondered if she knew how delicious she looked in it.

   Merry opened the oven door. "I was going to put tin foil over the pan, but if you're hungry and want to eat right away, there's no need to."

   He drew the bubbling dish out of the oven and set it on top of the stove. "No, we can take our time. I didn't mean to rush dinner, and I won't starve to death if we spend an extra half hour getting to know each other over a glass of wine."

   She smiled. "Sounds good to me."

   Did it? He certainly hoped she was game for involvement with someone whose entire life could be taken over by his livelihood. At times he wished more than anything that he had someone waiting for him at home.

   Merry's presence in his building could be the next best thing. She seemed emotionally stable—so far. Certainly more stable than some of his rabid fans.

   Loaded down with the heavy dish, Jason let her get the door and lock it behind them. He asked her to extract his key card from his front pocket rather than balance the heavy lasagna pan on one wide open palm and hope not to drop it.

   "Okaaay." She gingerly fished the proximity card out of his pocket and held it up to the elevator's scanner. A slight blush colored her cheeks.

   The magic card allowed access to the penthouse floor. As they rode the elevator together, he glanced down at her and smiled. She shifted her focus to the floor, but when she looked up again, she showed him her wide sparkling smile—the one that twisted his stomach into a knot and affected lower regions too.

   At last they reached the penthouse and the elevator doors opened onto his expansive entry. He watched for her reaction to the pristine condition of his combined living and dining areas. "Welcome to my abode."

   Her eyes popped and her smile turned into an openmouthed, awed expression as she took in the expensively decorated but completely impractical penthouse. She bypassed the kitchen and her high heels clicked across the marble floors to the windows. She still clutched her apple crisp. "Wow!"

   He had pulled the curtains closed in all but the one spot that led to his balcony. Even so, the city lights showed through the gossamer, airy curtains and lit up the night like stars. She must have liked what she saw. She seemed positively mesmerized.

   Jason set the lasagna dish on his built-in kitchen grill and followed her to the windows. "Pretty, isn't it?" Not nearly as pretty as the temptress right in front of me.

   "I'll say. I didn't realize our building was higher than those on the other side of the street. I can see the river. You really scored a gorgeous view here."

   He chuckled at her use of the word score. With any luck, he'd score with the cute Rhode Islander before too long.