Arthur and Taylor sauntered back to his apartment from Baritimo’s, happy in each other’s company. To Arthur, the stress of the previous two weeks had lifted like a veil. He sought for Taylor’s hand and held it as they walked. The holiday he’d planned would be great now they’d cleared the air. He caught her smiling at him and grinned back. Yes, the trip away would be special.
He lived half-way along the street, opposite a disused yard that once sold scrap metal. Beside that squatted a patch of no man’s land where locals parked their cars and where Arthur often left his taxi. Several trees, a disused old phone booth, a trashcan, and a couple of fire hydrants made up the street furniture. His house was a nondescript sort of home, this place he’d inherited from his Uncle Kenny and Aunt Sylvia, but it suited him fine. Being unremarkable, he existed at the top of the apartment block’s three stories and went about his business with the same anonymity as anyone else in the city. That suited him fine: he’d no ambition to be anyone special, no desire to draw attention to himself.
They arrived at the block’s entrance ignoring the tight alley that separated the neighbouring block from his. In that passage a single emergency light cast white phosphorescence upon the fire escape and maintenance stairs.
Arthur fished in his pocket, found his set of keys, and opened the glass doors. ‘After you,’ he said and grinned again, unable to help himself.
Inside, the lobby was square and functional. A set of stairs rose upward to the right, with the doorway to the Forrests’ apartment on the left. Taylor made for the door straight away and rapped on it, her knocks echoing through the hall, loud in the quiet evening.
It was several minutes before Andy Forrest opened it. He was wearing nothing but his housecoat. ‘Jeez, Taylor, do you know what time it is? Is everything okay?’
She flinched a little at that. ‘Yes Andy, everything’s fine. It was just… oh, I dunno… we were passing and I thought it would be nice to say goodnight to my girls.’ She was a little drunk. She’d consumed more wine than normal and was probably a little emotional too. Hopefully, she’d dismissed the prospect of Manny emerging from the shadows. Yet, her expression suggested she needed assurance that her daughters were as safe and secure as Andy indicated.
‘They’re asleep, Taylor…’
‘I’m sorry, but it would be kinda nice…’
Andy shook his head and blinked at her. ‘Honestly! It’s so late it’s almost dawn… but okay, come in for a minute. But only a minute. I gotta get up early tomorrow. I’m gonna open the store real sharp to catch the early trade.’ He allowed Taylor inside. ‘Are you coming too, Artie?’
‘No, I’m cool, Andy. I don’t want to cause you any more trouble. I’ll wait out here.’
His neighbour retreated, leaving the door slightly ajar. Arthur hung around in the lobby and gazed outside. Through the glass door panel, he spied three crows frolicking under a streetlight. They hopped towards the front entrance of the building and peered at him with glassy eyes. It made him shiver and he muttered, ‘I’m getting as paranoid as that Greek guy. For Christ sake, he’s rubbed off on me.’ The birds took flight as the Forrests’ door opened again and Taylor emerged.
‘Hey!’ She was content, smiling.
‘I guess they’re asleep?’
‘Like little lambs. They’re cuddled up head to toe with Molly. It’s kinda sweet.’ She kissed him full on the lips, a soft touch that made his body tingle. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘What for?’
‘Oh… for just being there. For your patience. For understanding.’
She kissed him again. It was good that the kids were at the Forrests’. It allowed the adults some privacy too. ‘Shall we go home?’ he asked.
‘Oh yes, please. You know, my feet hurt so bad.’ She used Arthur’s shoulder as a balance, propped herself up on one leg then the other, while she pulled each shoes off, then as she clutched the footwear tight, she slid her spare hand down his arm until their palms met and their fingers clasped together.
Hand in hand they ascended the stairs.
A door opened as they reached the first-floor landing and a woman the same age as Arthur backed out of an apartment and fumbled at its lock. Her frame was a little stooped and as she drew up to address them, her appearance startled him: the deep lines of worry that gouged her thin face were more pronounced than ever. All the same, he tried to walk passed without saying a word.
Taylor, however, paused. ‘Hi, Barbara, is everything okay?’
The woman studied her, uncertain. ‘Yes. Yes. It’s all good. I’ve just given Mom her supper… and sorted some things.’ Her nose wrinkled as she recoiled from the memory. ‘Still, all done now. All good…’
Despite Arthur’s best efforts, Taylor continued, ‘And how is your mom?’
‘Oh, the same as ever. Some days good. Some days bad. Some days in the middle.’
‘It must be hard, trailing down here each day to care for her.’
The woman placed her hands on her hips, a whiff of stale tobacco emanating from her. ‘I do what I need to. And I don’t need fake sympathy. I know what you’re like, you and… him. You’ll get up those stairs and snigger at my misfortune because you love it, really. So, I’ll thank you to mind your business and let me get on with mine.’ She graced Taylor with an insulted bow of her head and stomped down the stairs.
Once she was out of earshot Taylor said, ‘What an ignorant thing to say to me! All I did was ask how things were.’
‘Well, that’s Barbara for you,’ Arthur replied. ‘Don’t expect her to change because her mom got sick.’ He’d done his best to explain Barbara to Taylor, to explain how awful his old schoolmate was, but he didn’t think Taylor had appreciated the extent of the other woman’s meanness. ‘Sometimes it’s best to ignore her,’ he said.
They continued to climb the stairs to the upper floor and Arthur’s apartment. ‘Coffee?’ he asked.
She followed him, gave him a kiss as he reached for the kettle. ‘Not for me. I’m going for a shower. It’s so icky out there tonight, I need to freshen up.’ She headed out the side door towards the bedrooms and bathroom, leaving Arthur alone to fill the kettle. While it boiled, he flipped the TV on for its background murmur and tossed its remote on his sofa. A rolling news programme filled the screen. On it, an anchorman bewailed the awful fortunes of the Yankees after their latest defeat. Arthur ignored this tragedy and set about making his drink.
Once done, he flopped down on the sofa, closed his eyes, and sighed. For a moment he considered telling Taylor about the holiday. It had been a difficult evening, but things were good. He and Taylor were good. He smiled. No, he would keep the surprise a little longer. When he reopened his eyes the TV anchorman moved his agenda back to the evening’s main story. Arthur leant forward, suddenly unnerved.
‘What’s up, Arthur?’ Taylor asked, coming into the room. Her skin was dimpled with water droplets and she wore nothing but a towel.
‘I was there today. At that hotel. Those crazy ladies I told you about made me sit and for half an hour outside the joint.’
Taylor squinted at the screen. ‘Are you sure? There’s a hundred buildings like it in the city.’
He stood up, agitated. ‘Yeah, I’m sure. Part of its name’s missing from the awning where it was ripped down when the guy fell through. Look.’ Arthur pointed at the screen where the letters gency flapped beneath their wire frame. ‘He must have struck the thing left of centre.’
‘Fell through it? Arthur, did someone die?’
‘Yeah, in style. He launched himself out of the hotel window, struck the canopy and went straight through. He made quite a mess by the look of things.’
‘Arthur! Really! That’s a horrible way to describe it. Did they say who it was?’
The camera was focused on a tearful, blonde-haired woman, whose make-up smudged her cheeks. Arthur didn’t respond to Taylor immediately, intent on the woman’s words. ‘The cops wanted to understand how it happened, but I don’t know… I was in the bathroom at the time. I swear. I was in the bathroom.’ The woman sobbed, her shoulders heaving. ‘There was this awful clatter as if… as if glass got shattered. I called out to him. I did. I called out his name, but he didn’t answer. The street was polluted by the noise of car engines, and that sound was suddenly all there was except… except for this crow. God, it must have been right at the window because above the sound of all the motors all I could hear was this bird as it cawed and cawed and cawed.’
‘I’m sorry to ask this of you, Miss Herzner, but what was his state of mind today? Was there any inclination he might have been unhappy? Was he depressed at all?’
The woman shook her head. ‘No sir, not at all. He was thrilled about this new film he was making and was so excited about the party tonight.’ Her voice broke, sobbed. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t talk anymore. I…’ Tears overwhelmed her. The camera lingered on her distress.
Captivated, Arthur reached for his coffee and took a gulp to calm his nerves. ‘I should go to the cops. They’re asking for information. Even though they say it was an accident.’
‘Who, Arthur? Who died?’
Arthur shook his head. ‘They talked about him as we crossed town. Christ, they bitched about his girlfriend something dreadful.’
‘Who, your lady passengers? Who died?’
His eyes were hot and tired suddenly and a dull knot tightened in his stomach. ‘It was Jonas Windberg, the actor, Taylor. He was in that hotel and fell out his window.’
She sat beside him. ‘Okay,’ she said, ‘here’s what I think.’ She pushed her shoulders back and her chin up and gave him a serious stare. ‘You say nothing about it. You don’t go to the cops. You don’t admit to anything. Okay? Trust me. I’ve dealt with the cops too many times. They’ll drag you into some crackpot conspiracy, put you through a whole lot of stress for no good reason.’
She paused to take his hands in hers. ‘You’ve done nothing wrong. You were only doing your job. If the police come for information then give them what they want, but don’t volunteer anything. Otherwise, they’ll twist it so that you may as well have pushed him to his death and you’ll wind up in the slammer.’
This was a side to Taylor that Arthur hadn’t encountered before: harder, more streetwise. He was surprised. ‘But those ladies visited him… it might be important.’
‘It might. But let the cops come to you.’ She helped him off the sofa, pulled him close. ‘Promise you won’t go near the cops. You’ll only get into trouble for no reason.’
Arthur nodded. ‘Okay, no cops. At least for now.’ He didn’t understand her objection, but her softness distracted him, a blanket soothing away the problem.
‘That’s good enough, I guess… Hey, why don’t you try on your new suit? I’m dying to see what you look like in it.’ She pressed herself against him invitingly.
The suit was the last thing on his mind. ‘Are you sure? I can show you it another time…’
She giggled. ‘No. Show me now. I’m interested.’ She dropped onto the sofa and pulled her knees up under her chin. ‘Hurry up…’
‘Sure. Okay.’ He left for the bedroom. When he returned, he was struggling with the shirt’s cuffs. The cufflinks would not behave themselves, with all his efforts to thread the buttonholes frustrated by the way the cloth chased itself around his wrist.
‘Here, let me.’
He didn’t suppose Taylor had any experience with cufflinks either but she fixed them in place like a professional. When she was done she, examined him with an exaggerated critique, then stood to straighten his collar. ‘There…’ she said, ‘Now put the hat on.’
‘The hat?’
She passed it to him from where he’d abandoned it on the sofa. ‘The hat…Perfect,’ she continued as she stepped away. ‘Handsome. You are a handsome man, Arthur Corbie. Sexy.’ Sexy.’ This time she stepped forward, but her movement was slower, more deliberate. ‘Now,’ his pulse quickened as her hand reached for him, ‘let’s go to bed.’ Arthur kissed her, cupped her chin in his hands, and her lips were soft and yielding. As they left the room, he grabbed the remote and plunged the TV into darkness, all of today’s madness hidden behind the promise in her words.
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