Strange Neighbors (9 page)

   Jason saw them coming up the cement walk and backed into Merry's apartment. "Why did you call them this time?"

   "I saw someone skulking around outside. He looked sketchy."

   "Is he still out there?"

   She shrugged. "Maybe. I can't see him anymore, but I want someone to take a look."

   Jason sighed. "Well, leave me out of it, okay?" He shut the door.

   Merry folded her arms and tipped her head. "Does your aunt know why you're not crazy about the cops coming here every couple of weeks?"

   "I'm sure she must."

   "Have you ever said anything to her directly about protecting your privacy?"

   He stared at the ceiling and seemed to mull it over. Then he looked at her, shrugged and said, "I thought I did. Maybe she didn't hear me."

   "If there's one thing nursing has taught me, it's to communicate clearly. Confusion that isn't clarified can lead to all kinds of misunderstandings—and sometimes dangerous mistakes."

   "Yeah, I guess I can see where being assertive might come in handy, especially in your field. I guess I've gotten used to keeping my mouth shut and letting other people fight my battles for me."

   "Really? Like who?"

   "Referees, agents, coaches, managers…"

   "You're kidding. What do you do if your steak is undercooked in a restaurant? Get one of them to send it back?"

   "I eat it anyway. There's no such thing as a bad steak." He grinned.

   She leaned toward him and looked him right in the eye. "You do that a lot, you know."

   "What?"

   "Avoid the question by making a joke. What about female fans who want to manhandle you?"

   He grasped her arms and looked her in the eye. "Merry, it happens. I won't lie to you. It's always an uncomfortable situation for me since I don't want to offend them while extricating myself. You never want your fans telling everyone they think you're an ass. I usually joke my way out of it. That's why I want you to buy me tonight. Here." He reached into his pocket and extracted a money clip, fat with green bills. "This should be enough." He had loaded the clip with Benjamins but knew the bidding could go high. He was a celebrity who looked pretty damn good in a tux.

   Merry tucked the cash in her clutch purse. "Are you sure you want me to spend all this?"

   "It's for charity. Spend it and feel good about it."

   A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Jason rolled his eyes.

   "I'll get it," Merry said. "After all, it is my apartment." She smiled as if trying to reassure him of her protection.

   Jason wasn't sure what he should do. He didn't want to hide in the kitchen like a coward. If someone recognized him, he could always say he had come to pick up his date and no one would have to know he lived there… if Dottie could keep her mouth shut.

   Yeah, Merry was right. He really did have to tell his aunt specifically not to alert the world to his location by calling the cops at the drop of a hat, and then reinforce that message as often as necessary.

   Merry opened the door and said, "Sly?"

   "You know this man?" one of the officers asked.

   "Yes. He saved my life a couple of weeks ago." She stepped into the hall and shook the stranger's hand. "I wanted to thank you, but I haven't seen you since that night."

   "How've you been?" he asked as casually as if one cop didn't have a vice grip on his arm and the other one wasn't barring the door behind him. Dottie made a disgusted sound and marched back upstairs.

   "I'm fine. Thanks to you."

   The cop holding Sly asked, "What do you mean he saved your life?"

   Sly spoke up quickly. "It was nothing. A misunderstanding that could have gotten out of hand, but it didn't. I intervened."

   At first Merry hesitated, and then as if she'd just remembered the cops weren't supposed to know about her near-rape she chuckled and said, "Yeah, that's all it was. I can be a bit of a drama queen. It was just a misunderstanding."

   "You sure?" the cop at the door asked.

   "Yes, it was nothing, really."

   Jason studied the man that must have been Dottie's suspicious character "skulking around" outside. He didn't seem homeless. He was well-dressed in an open-collared black shirt, black trousers, and an expensive-looking black wool coat. "What's the problem, officers?" Jason asked.

   "Someone called about a prowler."

   Sly laughed. "I was leaning against the fence having a cigarette. Not prowling." He made eye contact with the officer a little longer than necessary and said, "So, I'm free to go, right?"

   The cop said, "As long as this woman can vouch for you."

   Merry nodded. "I vouch."

   "Okay," the cop holding his arm let him go with a warning. "Find another fence to lean against as you have your smokes or, better yet, quit. It's a filthy habit."

   "Yes, sir," Sly said and saluted.

   The guy seemed awfully cavalier for someone detained by police. After the cops left, he turned toward Merry and said, "Well, nice seeing you again. I'll be on my way now."

   "Would you like to come in for some coffee? It's pretty chilly out there tonight."

   He glanced at each of them and said, "Maybe some other time. It looks like you and your boyfriend are going out on the town."

   Jason placed a possessive arm around her waist. "Yes, we were just getting ready to leave."

   "So long." Sly waved. "Oh! Before I forget. You know there was someone else skulking around out there in the bushes, right?"

"There was? Why didn't you say anything?"

   "Because the person took off as soon as they nabbed me, and if I said 'Oh, it's not me… it's the other prowler you want,' they'd buy that sometime after they bought the Mass Avenue Bridge."

   "Do you know who it was?"

   Sly shrugged. "Nope. It was a woman with a knit cap pulled over her hair. She may have been a private detective trying to catch a cheating spouse or jealous exgirlfriend stalker or something. She had a camera. Well, have a nice night." As soon as he had jogged down the outside steps, he seemed to disappear into the darkness.

   "With my luck," Jason muttered, "it's the paparazzi."

   Something about Sly didn't feel right. It was more than his attitude or dark hair and pale skin. It had nothing to do with jealousy, even though he seemed overly interested in Merry. There was something about his black, glittering eyes. The man oozed danger.

Well, the nutty professor signed the lease anyway. He must be nuts if he thinks I'm going to let him stay here.

   So far, Chad had made sure a champagne cork hit the new tenant in the eye, he'd dimmed and brightened the lights at inopportune times, and slammed every door in the place, and all the professor did was explain it away with logic.

   Bummer. I'll have to try harder.

   He wished he could show himself somehow. He's not psychic, that's for sure, so I doubt he'd bother with infrared cameras.

   Chad only knew two people in the building aware of his existence and only one he could speak to—Morgaine, the witch from across the hall. Maybe when she's in a trance I can talk her into getting this dude to split.

   Of course, there was always the landlord and his girlfriend. Chad had heard them talking about paranormal phenomena recently and it seemed as if the nurse had seen some strange things while working at night in a hospital. Maybe he could try to get her attention and see if she responded to anything.

   She had mentioned a room that was used only to house supplies after a number of children had reported seeing the same man, dressed in black, watching them from the end of their beds. He'd have thought the grim reaper might be checking up on their conditions, but she said the man always wore a hat. Old Grim wouldn't be caught dead in a hat. Ha ha ha. His pun just occurred to him.

   As Chad mulled the situation over, the professor returned "home" to the apartment. I won't bother learning his name since he'll be freaking out and leaving soon.

   He had brought a female friend with him. She was oddly dressed, though. She looked like a throwback to Chad's generation… the sixties. She wore a long tiedyed dress and clogs and her hair was long, loose, and mousy brown with gray strands coming in. I didn't think geeks had girlfriends. Shows how much I know.

   She closed her eyes and stood in the middle of the room.

   Ah ha! He brought a psychic! I knew she couldn't be a girlfriend. So far the professor hadn't impressed him as boyfriend material. He spent all his time on the Internet. And he surfed the most boring sites. He grooved on science and space, mostly. If he spent even half the time looking at porn, I might consider letting him stay—and that's a big maybe. But he was of no use whatsoever as far as Chad was concerned.

   The psychic was taking a series of deep cleansing breaths and going into a trance.

   "Spirits inhabiting this place, can you hear me?"

   What should I do? Answer her? Or perhaps it would be more fun to simply stay quiet so she tells the professor that nobody's home and he thinks he's going nuts.

   "Give me a sign that you are here. I can help you move on."

   Move on? Don't tell me she's going to open up a path to the light and ask me to go into it! Hey, if they wanted me there, they would have invited me long ago. I have a mind to cross my virtual arms and pout, then maybe she'll go away.

   She stayed in her trance. He was glad. He hadn't been looking at things logically. If he wanted the professor out, what better way than to use her voice and scare the shit out of both of them? It wasn't the easiest thing to do, but if she was open to it, he might be able to sink into her head and control her speech. Okay, I've never done this before, so I might not succeed, but it's worth a shot.

   Chad gathered his consciousness at the top of her head and descended. Man, this is the weirdest feeling. It's all warm and squishy in here! Gross.

   She must not have liked it either, since she squirmed a bit, then straightened and shivered.

   Chad glanced down. Hey—look at me. I have boobs! Nice ones, too. He chuckled. All right. Let's see what I can do.

   He tried to align his breathing with hers, first. Then he made her breathe heavily, to add to the drama. As soon as he felt ready, he said in a low, angry voice. "You… must… leave—or die!"

   The professor's eyes rounded and looked like they were about to pop out of his head. Good, I have his attention.

   "Get… out."

   The professor stood there, frozen to the spot.

   "Get… out! Get out, get out, get out!"

   He tore out of the apartment and ran for the stairs. Apparently he didn't want to take the elevator and risk that it might be too slow. Chad had to leave the psychic's mind before he started laughing. It was all he could do to hold it in while he squeezed through her gray matter and pushed his way out.

   She slumped, straightened, and her body language said she was dazed and a little confused. She looked around the room and spotted the open door. Leaving the apartment, she closed the door softly and apparently forgot all about telling Chad to go toward the light. Ah, sweet victory!

PAPARAZZI REPORTER LILA CRUM CLAIMED HER FAVORITE barstool at the Bay Plaza Hotel and raised her hand in greeting to the bartender. She pulled off her knit cap and tossed it onto the bar. In the mirror, she saw her short, straight, brown hair standing on end with static electricity. She rolled her eyes and patted it back down.

   "Hey, Lila. How're things?" Kevin, her favorite tall, lean, not-bad-looking bartender was always interested in her life.

   Her shoulders slumped and she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the long wooden bar. "Not good. Bring me the usual, Kevin. I need a double this time, though."

   "Uh-oh. Coming right up."

   She watched as he poured, making sure he gave her as much rum as she wanted in her Coke. It sucked to be her at the moment. However, she knew that Kevin would serve up some sympathy along with her favorite comfort foods—rum and pretzels. She lived on carbohydrates these days.

   "Here ya go," he said. He placed the full glass in front of her without sloshing a drop onto the bar. Good thing. At this point, she'd chase the drop around with her stirring straw until she could slurp it up.

   "So, why are you acting like Santa just ran over your grandmother and took off before delivering your presents?"

"My job. I'm about to be fired."

   He straightened to his full six-foot-three height and had the decency to look surprised. "Really? I'm sorry to hear that."

   She shrugged. "It's not my fault that celebrities are behaving themselves. I've been searching for leads as diligently as I always do, but nothing's panned out."

   "Yeah, I haven't heard about any scandals lately, either. I'd call the paper and ask for you if I did."

   "I know, and thanks. I really appreciate that." She stirred her drink slowly as she continued to unburden herself. "I thought I had something on Jason Falco. At least I was able to make a few bucks on the side."

   "The Bullets pitcher?"

   "Yeah. Some woman who thought I was a private investigator said Falco was hanging around with a nurse who worked with her and gave me the coworker's address— wanted me to follow him and find out where he lived."