The Nosy Neighbor (4 page)

“You expect me to make your dog a meat loaf?” Lucy asked incredulously as she stared at the buzzing receiver in her hand. She replaced the phone just as the stairs started to shake with Sadie and Coop bounding up the steps. The frog was new territory for the Lab, and he had to smell every inch of it, his tail, like a weapon, swishing furiously. Sadie sat back on her haunches, her eyes adoring as she watched her new friend frolic in the space that was originally hers.

Lucy snapped her fingers, and said, “Sit!” Coop looked around. Since his new best friend was already sitting, he took the command to heart and sat. He waited for approval, and Lucy was lavish in her praise. He licked her hand, whined softly, and lay down at her feet. Sadie followed suit.

Lucy dropped to her knees and tussled with the two dogs, who barked and rolled over and over, then on top of one another. They jumped on her, sat on her, tugged the rubber band out of her ponytail, and stretched out for a nap. Giggling, Lucy went downstairs to make fresh coffee.

Maybe she should leave the dogs in the frog when she drove into the city. She could leave dry dog food and water, lock the door so they wouldn’t bother the cleaning crew and the cleaning crew wouldn’t bother them. It was doable.

All she had to do was wait for the Disaster Master people.

Ahead of schedule by an hour, the crew arrived with a ton of cleaning equipment. Lucy spent ten solid minutes explaining what she wanted done, locked up the dogs, gave instructions to the bonded crew on how to lock up, and left the house for the forty-five-minute drive into Manhattan.

It was twelve-forty-five when she parked the car in her brother’s spot at his building and then took a cab to Seventy-ninth Street. It was going to be tricky. Jonathan had told her once it wasn’t a doorman building, but there was an elevator operator. And he was on duty. He glowered at her as she stepped in, and said smartly, “Seventeenth floor please.”

Lucy hoped the operator didn’t wait to see if whoever she was visiting was home. He didn’t. Sighing with relief, she walked around the short hallways until she spotted Jonathan’s door. A business card was taped to the front door. Three locks. Customary and not out of the ordinary for New York City. Not a problem. She could pick a lock with the best of them, thanks to her old client, Three-Fingered Willie.

The moment all three locks snapped free, she opened the door and stepped inside, carefully locking the door behind her. She’d expected to see lavish furnishings because Jonathan loved fine things. For some reason she thought an interior decorator would have done the job. Her jaw dropped when she looked around the living room. A chair and a floor lamp were the only furnishings. A phone and an answering machine sat on the floor. There was no blinking red light, so that had to mean there were no messages.

There were no towels, no carpets, and no soap in the bathroom. The room she surmised to be the bedroom had a chair and a table with a small lamp on it. The only thing in the closet was a windbreaker that smelled like Jonathan and a pair of running shoes sans shoelaces.

In the kitchen, she opened the cabinets. Blank space stared back at her. The refrigerator that was plugged in and running held two bottles of Evian water and a tray of ice cubes. Nothing else.

Had Jonathan moved and forgotten to tell her? Had Jonathan ever lived here? Was this just an address for business cards? What? When she sat down on the chair, a puff of dust swirled upward. She stood immediately. Did
anyone
live here? Unlikely.

Now what?
she asked herself, looking around.

If she hadn’t leaned up against the wall by the door, she probably never would have seen the small mailbox key hanging on a nail at the side of the door. She recognized it because she’d had one just like it when she’d lived on Forty-ninth Street.

Lucy felt light-headed at the mere thought of going near Jonathan’s mailbox. Tampering with the United States mail was a federal offense. She wanted to cry at what she was thinking and feeling.

She’d been a criminal defense attorney long enough to know she’d screwed up by running here to Jonathan’s apartment just hours after her meeting with the federal agents. She knew without a doubt that someone, probably Frick and Frack, had followed her into the city. How could she have been so stupid? She’d just given them another reason to suspect her. Of what, she didn’t know. They probably thought she was either tearing up stuff, burning it, or trying to hide it. That’s exactly what she would think if she was in their place. There was a lot to be said for suspicious minds.

Lucy looked longingly at the mailbox key but knew she wasn’t going to touch it. Touch it. What had she touched? Doorknobs, the cabinet doors, and the refrigerator handle. That was it. With a tissue from her purse, she wiped everything she’d touched, then let herself out of the apartment. She relocked the door with the aid of one of Willie’s picks, walked over to the elevator, and pressed the button.

She was back home in her own house at three-thirty. The house sparkled. The crew was worth every cent she’d paid them. By three-forty-five she had her hands deep into a meat loaf mixture. Clueless Cooper’s owner was paying for this meat loaf, too.

Damn you, Jonathan, what are you involved in?
A fat tear rolled down her cheek.

The phone rang, but she didn’t answer it because her hands were full of egg, bread crumbs, and hamburger meat. Whoever it was would call back.

Five minutes later, Lucy covered the roasting pan and slid it into the oven. She looked around and knew that the dogs had to go out, but the yard was too muddy, which meant she would have to walk them. She found an extra leash of Sadie’s, put on her coat, and left the house, the dogs literally dragging her. The slush on the road had turned into a sheet of sheer ice. She picked her way carefully, the dogs now walking just as gingerly. As she struggled along behind them, she couldn’t remember when she’d had a more miserable day.

When they had gone about a half mile, Lucy announced, “Okay, guys, come on, time to head home.” The words were no sooner out of her mouth when her feet went out from under her, and she was on the ground. She felt a sharp pain in her foot and ankle, an even sharper pain behind her right ear. Stunned by the fall, she stared around groggily at the dogs. She’d let go of the leashes when she fell.

She saw it then, the wire from the utility pole skittering across the road like a skinny snake. A live wire. Her heart pounded in her chest when she saw the high wind whip the wire in her direction.

She struggled to get up, rolling over so she could get to her knees when she felt Coop put all his hundred pounds against her back to steady her, and yet the wire swiped her rubber boot. She felt the electrical shock from her foot all the way to her head. With Coop’s help she rolled over again, out of reach of the wire. Sadie yipped her approval until Lucy was on her feet. The golden Lab stared up at her.
This dog loves me,
Lucy thought crazily. What was even more weird, she realized she actually liked, maybe even loved, Clueless Cooper. She was glad now that she’d made a meat loaf for him.

Steadying herself on one foot, her vision blurry, Lucy bent down to hug the wet dog, who whined his approval.
I’m alive,
she thought.
I wasn’t electrocuted.

Their leashes dragging on the road, the two dogs separated and walked alongside Lucy until they were back at the house. Inside, she hopped around as she found towels to dry off the dogs and herself. She was exhausted by the time she built a fire, which blazed within seconds. The dogs immediately lay down by the hearth and went to sleep.

Lucy poured herself a glass of wine, kicked off her shoes, and settled down on the sofa. She tried not to think about the pain in her ankle or the weird feeling inside her head. She gingerly touched the peanut-sized bump behind her ear. The aspirin she’d downed would take some of the edge off the pain. When she was a kid, she’d fallen off her bike and sprained her ankle. To her mind, the pain and the swelling looked the same. She could move her foot, so that had to mean nothing was broken. Later she’d soak it, and the next day an Ace bandage would help.
I’m living under a black cloud,
she thought as she finished the wine in her glass. She poured a second glass.

This is nice,
she thought.
Sitting here all cozy and warm while bad weather beats against the house. The two dogs close by, dinner roasting in the oven. What could be better?
A man maybe, someone to hold her hand, to curl up against. Jonathan? Jonathan wasn’t a warm and fuzzy kind of guy. He was passionate, though.

She thought about her neighbor and wondered what kind of guy he was. He had to be at the very least her own age, possibly a few years older. Since it was obvious he lived alone with Coop, he had to be a bachelor. Maybe he was divorced. Maybe he was engaged. Did she care?

Lucy closed her eyes and was asleep within seconds. She didn’t wake until the timer on the stove buzzed. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she hobbled to the kitchen to remove the meat loaf from the oven. It smelled good. While the meat loaf cooled, she slid some frozen peas and carrots into the microwave oven, along with two scrubbed baking potatoes. She debated making a salad but scratched the idea when her ankle started to throb in tune with the throbbing inside her head.

The front doorbell rang just as Lucy finished mixing the peas and carrots into the meat loaf for both dogs. She looked at the clock—7:10. It must be her neighbor. She called loud enough over the barking dogs for him to come in. “I’m in the kitchen,” she shouted. The dogs barked louder.

Wylie appeared in the kitchen doorway, a check in his hand. “Smells good,” he said hopefully.

Lucy called the dogs and set the bowls on the floor. “Help yourself. I made some baked potatoes in the microwave. They won’t be crusty, though. No salad either. I sprained my ankle,” she said, holding out her swollen ankle, “while I was walking the dogs. I gave my head a good clout, too. I also got clipped by a live wire. Coop saved the day, though. He helped me get up on my feet. The stuff is in the vegetable bin if you want to make a salad. I guess that means I’m inviting you to dinner. What exactly is wrong with Coop that he can only eat meat loaf?”

“It’s a long story. Coop was really sick for a long time and was slowly starving to death when I found him during a really bad storm. God only knows how long he was out there on his own. I took him to that vet on Oak Tree Road. He had to have some stomach surgery, and even when he came home it was still touch-and-go. I started to feed him little bits with my fingers, and he started to eat again. I appreciate your taking care of him and making him the meat loaf. I usually do it on Sunday. I make a whole batch of it, but I ran out this week. He won’t eat the deli kind if I buy it. He just wants mine. Looks like he likes yours, too. I’ll make the salad, and thanks for inviting me.”

“You’ll have to walk them after they eat. The yard is too muddy to let them out. Do you always talk so much?”

“It’s the lawyer in me. You remind me of someone. Did we ever meet?”

Lucy stared at the tall man cutting up her lettuce. She wanted to say, if I had met you, I would remember you. And then she did remember meeting him years earlier when he was a prosecutor. She’d gone up against him and won. She hated lying to her neighbor, but lie she did. “I don’t think so.” What was the point in telling him she’d looked different back then in her designer, high-powered court suits, fashionable flaming red hairdo, exquisite makeup. Today her hair was back to its natural tawny color. The high-powered suits had been replaced with jeans and sweat suits. She looked exactly like what she was, a suburbanite.

“Maybe you have a twin out there somewhere. Everything looks nice and clean. I guess you were satisfied, huh?”

“Yes, they did a good job, and, no, you don’t owe me any more money.” He was good-looking. Dark brown hair and brown eyes. Five o’clock shadow, but that was okay. Good suit, so well made it fit him perfectly. She looked down at his Brooks Brothers loafers. A nice shine. His tie, loose at the neck, was nice, too. Obviously, he knew how to dress. To her eye, he looked like a runner or a jogger. On the other hand, maybe he simply worked out at a gym in the city on his lunch hour the way her brother did. Whatever he did in the way of exercise put him in good physical shape. She felt disloyal to Jonathan just thinking about Wylie.

Lucy rubbed at her throbbing temples as she struggled to keep up with her end of the conversation. “How is it that you know how to make meat loaf? I realize it isn’t rocket science, but most men would opt for steak or chicken or go with takeout. That’s what my brother does. Of course, he doesn’t have a dog.”

“I was married for ten years awhile back. My ex-wife had no expertise in the culinary department. I realized if I didn’t want to starve, I would have to learn to cook. She was a lawyer climbing up the ladder. When she got where she wanted to go, on my back, she divorced me. She turned around, married a newscaster, and lives in Scarsdale. She now has a cook, a housekeeper, a gardener, and a chauffeur. Guess that was more than you wanted to know. Couldn’t think of any other way to let you know I’m available. If you were looking that is.” His expression was sheepish yet hopeful.

“Oh,” was all Lucy could think of to say.

“Yeah, oh. I wouldn’t marry a lawyer again if they paid me my weight in gold.”