1 Odds and Ends

by Audrey Claire

  The tight fist squeezing Margot’s heart eased as she faced Kenny. “Well, thank you, young man. Yes, I think that’s what my lease says.”

  She looked up at the building, big, square, and many-windowed with gray peeling paint that once had been white. The red bricks had been painted that color. From the appearance now that she had moved closer, no one bothered to scrape off the old peeling layer. They just sealed it beneath a topcoat.

  Outside a few windows on the upper levels were fire escapes, and the ladders were all raised. She wondered if they were rusted in place. This was where she would live from now on. The relief Kenny’s offer of help brought dissipated as fast as it surfaced.

  “You don’t know?” Kenny said.

  “Know what?” She bent to pull one of the suitcases upright.

  “Which apartment you’re in.” He frowned at her, and she noticed her guess was right. He was stronger than he looked, carrying three bags at once to the stoop. “Didn’t you come see it? Oh, I’m sorry. You probably don’t remember.”

  “Well I never.” Margot waggled a finger at him. “I’ll have you know, I have a sharp mind, a very sharp mind! I don’t know because I handled everything on the phone, and I convinced the solicitor to help with finding this place even though he… never mind.”

  Kenny still appeared doubtful of her mental faculties. “Well, Mrs…”

  “Oh, where are my manners, Kenny? I’m Margot Gardner, and don’t call me Mrs. anything. Just call me Margot.”

  “Well, Ms. Margot,” he said, “you probably should have come to see what you were getting into.” He nodded toward the shoddy outside of the building. “From the looks of these bags and all that junk those guys have in that truck, you might not be forgetful, but you sure are nive.”

  “Nive?” She chuckled for the first time since she had learned of her husband’s duplicity. “I think you mean naïve, Kenny.”

  His face burned, and she decided then and there she liked him.

  “Why do you say I’m naïve?”

  He aimed his chin toward the truck. “Because that stuff will never fit in your apartment, not even in the storage unit in the basement. But at least the cat will help keep any rodents away.”

  Margot’s heart sank. She should have known. Then she gasped, realizing what Kenny had said. “Rodents! What cat?”

  Chapter Four

  “What in heaven’s name is a pet fee?” Margot asked as she followed Kenny to the basement. She tried to shoo him along the rickety stairs at a faster pace, since she had had to part with a few more bills to keep the moving men waiting on the street. They had already offloaded her essentials, some of which didn’t fit through the doorway into her new closet-sized apartment. Not without causing a scratch on the desk that felt like a scratch on her heart.

  “It’s in case the pet does any damage. You don’t get the money back,” Kenny explained.

  “Well, it’s a good thing I don’t have a pet.” She glanced over her shoulder at the feline that had leaped down from the top of one Victorian bureau in the van to land gracefully at her feet. Since then, the beast with bright green eyes and silver coat hadn’t let her out of his sight.

  “He don’t know that.” Kenny reached for a door handle at the bottom of the steps and jangled keys.

  “Doesn’t,” she corrected without thinking.

  “Don’t,” Kenny insisted. “Are you sure he’s not yours?”

  “I’ve never had a pet.” She had always wanted one though, but as a child, her dad had claimed to be allergic whenever she asked. Later, she believed he wasn’t being truthful. Then when she married Lou, he had been adamant. He hated animals, and they weren’t getting one.

  “Well you can talk to the Super about it when you see him.”

  As soon as Kenny opened the basement door, Margot wrinkled her nose against the horrid smell. Was this what vermin smelled like or was it just…normal? She glanced at Kenny to gauge his reaction, and he had covered his nose, his eyes watering. Maybe not so normal.

  They braved into the stench and walked along the aisle with cages that looked like something Margot had seen on television once, like chicken coops. How lovely.

  “Where is the building supervisor?” she asked.

  “No idea. Don’t care until we need something fixed.”

  “I thought he would meet me here when I arrived and well, have people waiting to help me move in.”

  Kenny laughed. “You really thought that?”

  She glared at him. “Well, I didn’t think I would find my keys stuck in my door like that.”

  “Not like there was anything to steal.”

  Meow.

  Margot glanced down at the cat, which had run ahead to tangle between her ankles. “Move, you, before you make me fall.”

  The cat meowed again.

  “What is it? Get out of the way. I’m an old lady, and if I fall, it won’t be good.” Over the last few years, she realized her fears of falling had escalated. Maybe if she got more exercise, moved around more. That might help.

  Meow!

  Honestly, had the cat just fussed at her? Margot stopped walking, but Kenny moved ahead, counting out the numbers that hung above the stalls as he went. “203, 204, 205. This is yo—”

  Kenny let out an expletive.

  “Kenny! Watch your mouth. It’s very rude to speak that way in front of a lady.”

  “Go upstairs, Ms. Margot.”

  “What?”

  “Go upstairs!”

  She stared at him, wondering at the about face in his attitude. He might be a teenager, but she had thought he was one of the rare few who respected the older generation. He even took care of his little sister when his mom had to work, but this cheek. No, she wouldn’t stand for it.

  Margot started toward him, but once against the cat got in the way. She stumbled over him, grumbling and ready to utter a few choice words herself. “What is going on around here?”

  She reached Kenny’s side, no thanks to the darn cat, and examined the cage. In that instant, all the blood drained from Margot’s head, and dizziness tipped her straight toward the concrete floor.

  Chapter Five

  Margot opened her eyes to a buzzing in her ears and a sting on her arm. She winced at the pain and worked her jaw to clear her ears. As she started to sit up, strong hands held her down. She gave a small cry, but a deep voice that seemed to come with the hands urged her to be still.

  “Take it easy, miss,” the man said.

  Margot’s eyes widened, and she looked up into a handsome face. If she were twenty years younger, she’d be…

  “Still old.”

  She looked around. “Who said that?”

  The man’s brow wrinkled, and he touched her forehead with the back of his fingers. “I did. Are you okay? How many fingers am I holding up?”

  Margot brushed his hand aside. “I can see just fine! Now let me up, or are you looking to try something with an old lady? I don’t mind telling you, I have a mean right hook.”

  He chucked, revealing a slightly crooked but nice white smile. Margot bet his mama must be proud. She felt pang of disappointment. That was another thing Lou hadn’t wanted—kids.

  The man released her and stepped back. “Take your time. That’s right.”

  Margot swept her feet to the floor and straightened. She realized she had been lying on her own couch and wondered how she got there. At least this piece she had salvaged from her house, even if the style and quality didn’t fit with the dingy flowered wallpaper in this room. She would have to do something about it.

  Then her memory came flooding back. “A body! Someone is dead!”

  The man nodded. Now that Margot sat up, she began to take in more of her surroundings and the man who had been leaning over him. He wore a gun strapped in a holster beneath his left arm. A police badge hung from his belt, and she swallowed.

  “So it wasn’t a nightmare?”

  “’Fraid not. I’m Detective Louis Crandell of the N
YPD, and there has indeed been a murder.”

  Margot wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Louis? Do you have another name other than Louis?”

  “Crandell,” he repeated drily.

  She patted his arm. “I’ll call you Peter.” She looked away from his face and noticed the scratch on her arm, red, puckered, and with a bit of dried blood. “This is why my arm hurts.”

  Scanning the room, she found the devious scamp, swishing his tail back and forth as he perched atop the Victorian someone had decided belonged wedged against the wall just inches from the kitchen doorway.

  Margot pointed at the cat. “You scratched me.”

  “Yes, I did. You fell on me! It was instinct.”

  Margot shrieked. “Did you hear that?”

  The detective blinked at her. “Maybe we should take you to the hospital.”

  He hadn’t heard, she thought and pressed palms to her burning cheeks. Granted, the voice seemed to come from inside her head. Maybe she was going mad. No, it was the body, seeing someone dead. She had only ever seen her parents after they passed and her aunt, but she had been grieving so much back then. Lou had been by her side too, supporting her.

  Margot stood and paced, careful to do it away from the suspicious cat. Her side hurt, but as she stretched some, she was reassured to find she probably hadn’t broken anything. So, she concluded, this must be the stress of finding someone murdered.

  “W-who was it?” she had the presence of mind to ask, “and have you arrested the perpetrator yet?”

  Peter gave her an apologetic look. “I’m afraid not yet, Mrs.—”

  “Margot Gardner. You may call me Margot.” She sat because her hip was starting to ache more. Her hands shook some, but she clasped them in her lap. “Where’s Kenny. Is he all right?”

  “I’m here, Ms. Margot.” Kenny walked into her apartment from the hall, and Margot tilted her head. The young man flushed and hurried back out. He knocked, and she called for him to come in. He did, frowning. “My mom told me to bring you this, said it will help you feel better.”

  Margot stared down at the small white one-inch by one-inch square in the center of a crumpled napkin. “What is it?”

  “Drugs. Eat it up.”

  “It’s not drugs!” She gasped and covered her mouth.

  “Why would I bring you drugs?” Kenny said, looking at her like she had marbles loose, and Margot would not have disagreed if he said so. “It’s just a piece her carrot cake. It’s her specialty, and she’s won ribbons for it and everything down at the Catholic Church.”

  “Why is it so small? Oh, I’m sorry. That’s very unappreciative of me. Please tell your mom thank you for me, Kenny.”

  He colored at her question and scratched the back of her head. “Well, uh, you see, my sister and I ate most of it this morning. Mom probably thought there was enough left when she told me to bring you some.”

  Margot eyed him. “And I suppose she also expected you to put it on a plate and not this paper napkin?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Before this kid’s head pops from embarrassment,” Peter interjected, “I’d like to ask the two of you some questions.”

  His words reminded Margot of the dire situation. “I still don’t know who died.”

  “The Super,” Kenny provided grimly. “Somebody offed him and left him down the basement.”

  Peter silenced him with a look. “As he put it, yes, the superintendent who worked here, a Mr. Coley Patterson,” he said, checking a small notebook he drew from his pocket.

  Margot pressed a hand to her throat. “H-how?”

  Peter hesitated.

  “How, please.”

  He sighed. “By stabbing. Now, I need to ask you did either of you hear or see anyone as you entered the basement?”

  Kenny screwed up his face, concentrating. “No.”

  Margot for some reason glanced at the cat. The wide green eyes blinked back at her, and she chided herself for one second believing the hallucinations could be real. “Well, even if we did hear something, it surely wasn’t the killer.”

  Amusement made Peter’s blue eyes crinkle at the corners, and he folded his arms across his chest. “And why is that, Margot?”

  She flushed at her age, pleased as punch a young man had felt comfortable calling her by her first name. “Well, Peter, because he has been dead a few days.”

  “How many would you say?” Peter asked.

  “Why are you asking her?” Kenny interrupted. “She just got here today, so she can’t be a suspect.”

  Peter grinned. “You’re right, kid. I was just curious about what she’d say. The body has been picked up, and in a few, I’ll have the ME’s report. Now, as a way to appease my curiosity, let’s go over everything, shall we?”

  Chapter Six

  Margot darted out the front door to her new apartment building. Well, darted probably wasn’t a good word for the speed at which she moved. Besides the fact that her hip was still achy. Maybe she should see a doctor.

  She stared at the spot where the moving van had been. A tiny car that looked like a toy occupied the space. Her heart raced, and she leaned on the banister for support. Where? All of the things she had brought with her weren’t in the apartment. They couldn’t all fit, and recalling the size of the basement compartments, surely not there either.

  “You must be the new tenant.”

  Hearing the sultry voice behind her, Margot turned. A woman of medium height, very slender but curvy figure, and a shock of long white-blonde hair stood before her.

  “Yes, I’m…” Distracted, for the moment Margot forgot to introduce herself properly. “I have to call the moving company. There’s been a mistake.”

  The woman stepped aside, drawing Margot’s gaze to impossibly high heels. How could she walk in those with such thin ankles? Margot made it a few steps into the hall before she recalled her manners and turned back to find the woman watching her with an expression of dislike.

  Margot gasped, and the woman schooled her face to a friendly smile. “Zabrina Fague.”

  “Margot Gardner. I’m sorry, dear. I am so distraught over my things. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Margot held out a hand to shake, but Zabrina ignored it.

  “Nice to meet you, Margot. Can I call you Margot?”

  “Of course.” Margot dropped her hand to her side and flattened her palm against her pants leg. She had never in her life been made to feel beneath someone, but Zabrina made her feel that way. “I have to go.”

  She spun away intending to return to her apartment to call Peter about the theft. He had questioned her and Kenny extensively about the superintendent, but since she had nothing to share other than last time she spoke with Mr. Patterson was a week ago. Peter had left after that and had apparently already questioned the other tenants.

  Music with a distinct scratchy element to it drifted into the hall as she passed a particular door, and Margot froze. That was her album, purchased at a music store back in Briney Creek during her third date with Lou. Surely it wasn’t a coincidence.

  Margot banged on the door until her knuckles ached. “Hello? Is anyone home?”

  The music halted, and a sing-songy voice called out. At that moment, the little silver cat padded down the stairs at the end of the hall and joined Margot in waiting at the door. She glared at him. He blinked back.

  “Why are you here?”

  She expected to hear his voice in her head, but there was only silence. Good, the hallucinations had worn off. The door opened, and she turned to face the older woman at the door.

  Pink hair curlers and a flowered housedress, the woman appeared to be Margot’s age or a mite older. She clapped pudgy pink-tipped hands together. “Oh, goodie, visitors.”

  Margot ignored the fact that she looked from her to the cat and back again and peered beyond the woman’s shoulder, straining to see if there was evidence of the theft. Peter would need proof.

  The cat sauntered past the woman’s legs, and she giggled.
“He’s a cute little thing. What’s his name? Oh, come in, honey. Come right in.”

  Margot hesitated. Thieves didn’t invite one right in, did they? She didn’t know any personally of course, except what she had seen on television. All of Lou’s staff had been loyal and honest, except that one fellow who had been let go two years ago. Once again, she missed Judy.

  Finding herself gently pulled forward, Margot stumbled over the threshold into the apartment. Heat hit her square in the face, and she fanned herself, feeling beads of moisture begin to form on her upper lip.

  “Make yourself comfortable. I already know you’re Margot Gardner. The news travels fast around here. I’m Nancy Shirley, and I just finished baking a turkey. Do you want some? I’ve got homemade mashed potatoes and corn on the cob, too. Hmm, I wonder if I shouldn’t toss some biscuits into the oven.”

  Margot drew in a shallow breath. Her head spun. “You cook your own food?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she recalled her circumstances. Of course Nancy cooked for herself. Probably everyone in the building did.

  Nancy smiled. “You mean do I know how? Oh, yes, my dear mother taught me everything she knew before she passed. I even have all of her cookbooks around here somewhere.”

  Meow.

  Margot looked over at the window. The cat had jumped onto the sill. He had the right idea, she realized. If she didn’t get a bit more air, she might pass out for the second time that day.

  “Do you mind turning down the air conditioning a little, Nancy?” she asked. “It’s a little warm.”

  “I don’t have air conditioning.” She pointed to the ceiling fan, which whirred but did nothing to cool the air. Margot was struck with horror. Surely, she kidded, it being July in New York.

  “No air conditioning?” She had assumed every place had it. Wait, what if she had none? Being poor equaled no central air conditioning? “But you’ve been cooking, and it’s hot.”