Margot hated the whiny tone to her voice. She had already determined not to feel sorry for herself anymore. Enough of that had been done right after the reality of her situation kicked in, which was three days following the news of Lou’s treachery.
“Well, I guess you can open the window,” Nancy suggested. “You do that while I make your plate.”
“I—” Margot began, but Nancy disappeared from the room.
Margot rushed to the window, and the cat leaped from the sill to an overstuffed chair. After fighting to get the window raised, Margot sat on the sill puffing to catch her breath. She scanned the crowded living room. Every available space had been taken up with furniture, a couch, a loveseat, two armchairs, and end tables everywhere the seats didn’t fill.
The walls in this apartment were also covered in outdated wallpaper, but Nancy had hung family photos and other artwork in such abundance, more of the paper was hidden. The record player had been placed on one of the end tables, too big and bulky to fit properly. Margot hurried to inspect the 33 on it.
“This is mine,” she shrieked. “And this crystal vase!”
“Thank you for it, honey. I love it,” Nancy said from the doorway.
“What do you mean thank you?” Margot snatched the record from the player and looked around her for the cover. “I didn’t give it to you.”
“No, I paid three dollars for it and a few other items. My collection is enriched.”
“Three do—” Aghast, Margot couldn’t finish the sentence. “Explain yourself before I call Peter.”
Nancy frowned. “Peter?”
Margot dug into her pocket and pulled out the business card Peter had given her. She waved it in the air. “The detective that was here earlier. I have his number.”
“Oh, wasn’t that just awful about the Mr. Patterson,” Nancy chirped, still the happy thief. “Peter was his name? Well, I hope he finds out who did it before too long. I for one won’t be able to sleep a wink knowing we have a killer in our midst.”
“The record,” Margot reminded her.
Nancy set two plates piled too high with food on one of the tables and waved her hands in dismissal. “You’re welcome, honey. Let me get the money.”
Margot was too stunned to reply. Nancy disappeared once again and returned moments later with a wad of bills. She reached for Margot’s hand and dumped them into her palm. Margot stared at the twenties, tens, fives, and mostly ones in disbelief.
“Trust me, it’s all there. I counted and recounted every time I sold an item. I wouldn’t let them bargain me down too much either. I got you a fair price for the entire lot.”
“Bargain…entire?”
The room dipped and swayed. Margot grabbed for a chair back. A bit of dust rose from the cushion, tickling her nose. A twinge in her hip made one knee wobble.
Green eyes blinked up at her from directly in front of her feet. “Better sit before you fall.”
And the talking cat was back. Lovely.
Chapter Seven
“If I do, I’ll fall on you and squish you!”
“Who are you talking to, Margot?” Nancy asked cheerily. “Come over and sit down. Let’s eat. I’m starving.”
Margot stared at the cat, waiting for a smart remark about scratching her again. He said nothing. She grumbled. The loss of her things. That’s what did it. Falling into a chair closer to the crazy old woman—and she was one to talk—Margot listened while Nancy explained that she had the brilliant idea to have an impromptu sidewalk sale to get rid of all of Margot’s extra items.
“Of course I bought as much as I could afford. You had such beautiful things, I would have loved to take them all off your hands. If I had the room, I swear, I would have made a payment plan.”
The words “you had no right” hung on Margot’s lips, but what good would it do now? Nancy had shared that people had driven up to buy, stuffed their cars with her precious odds and ends, and driven away. Who knew where they had come from or where they had gone.
Margot counted the bills she had been given. “This doesn’t even cover the second Victorian. I know because I purchased the set myself with my credit card.” She didn’t mention that same credit card had been canceled. She had already checked—by trying to purchase again.
“Of course not, silly.” Nancy shook her head. “We’ll never get what our precious items are really worth, not with a sidewalk sale. Who in this neighborhood could afford it anyway? I dare say you can use as much extra cash as possible, too. I know I could because I have a small budget. My son looks out for me, but I don’t like to depend on him.”
Through her haze of misery, Margot’s curiosity rose. “Your son?”
“John, yes. He’s a bank manager.” A sad expression came over her face. “I don’t get to see him often, but he sends a check regularly. How I miss him.”
Margot’s heart softened. “I imagine you do.”
“Do you have any children, Margot?”
“No.” She couldn’t bring herself to say more. The stupid cat swirled between her legs. She aimed a half-hearted kick at him, but he dodged it.
Nancy giggled. “Oh, but you do have a child.” She pointed at the fur ball. “What’s his name?”
Margot drew back in horror. “He’s not mine. He’s evil, and… he…” He talks. She bit her lip, not wanting to admit she would rather believe the cat talked than that she was crazy, which of course proved she was out of her mind.
Nancy laughed again. “I like the relationship the two of you have. It’s fun and playful. You pretend not to like him. He gives you that look. Yes, there it is. That one that says he thinks he’s smarter than you.”
“I am.”
Margot thumped her plate on the table and pushed awkwardly to her feet. She snatched the cat up from the floor, carried him to the door, and dumped him in the hallway before slamming the door closed.
“I suppose he knows his way home to his new place,” Nancy said. She had found nothing odd about Margot’s actions, and Margot sighed in resignation. Let the woman think what she wanted.
Margot sat down again and started up with eating her food. The flavors were delicious. Nancy was indeed a good cook, and Margot told her so.
“Thank you, my dear. You know, I could teach you if you’d like to learn.”
“Teach me! I’ve never, I mean, I wouldn’t…”
Margot trailed off as she glanced toward the kitchen. While she lived with Lou, she had no reason to go into the kitchen. Judy had made sure the cook made her whatever she wanted, any time of the day. When she was young, of course, she had eaten her afternoon snacks there. Her family had one housekeeper who cooked and cleaned. With Lou, the need never arose.
“Is it possible?” she asked. “For me, I mean.”
“Everyone can learn to cook, Margot.” Nancy set her fork down and clapped her hands. “This is exciting. We’re going to be best friends, and who knows, maybe I’ll be moving, and we’ll have more room.”
“Moving where?”
Nancy pointed up, and Margot cringed.
“Death?”
Nancy shook her head, grinning. A curler dangled, coming loose. “No, silly, third floor, into the superintendent’s apartment. It’s bigger than all of ours, and it opens onto a private section of the roof. Oh, what I could do with that space!”
A scratch at the door caught Margot’s attention, but she turned away from it. “Is that so? Sounds very nice. I wouldn’t mind seeing it.”
Nancy looked around as if there were someone who might overhear. Margot did the same and then realized the absurdity of it. “I’m not one to gossip,” Nancy said, and Margot doubted that was true, “but Coley always did look out more for himself than anyone else.”
“Well as the owner shouldn’t he get the best?”
“Owner?” The way Nancy looked at Margot, she realized she was showing her ignorance again, and her face flamed. “Coley was the superintendent, not the owner.”
Margot made a small
sound of understanding as if it were now all very clear.
“None of us have ever met the owner face-to-face. He’s content to let Coley run everything and even hire less skilled contractors for repairs and stick the owner with the bill. Or rather, he used to do that.”
Nancy crossed herself.
Margot considered what she had shared. “So, maybe someone killed him to get the apartment?” After she said the words, Margot felt silly. No one wanted a bigger apartment that bad. Well, when she thought of the mansion where she had spent the last fifty years, a small itch of something welled up. That that was reserved for Lou, and it had more to it than just the house.
Margot expected Nancy to shoot down her suggestion of someone killing for Coley’s apartment, but Nancy said, “That’s possible. When my pipes burst last winter, and water ruined my new throw rug, Coley said it was my fault for letting the sink clog and breaking some tiny whatever inside the something. I was fit to strangle him myself.”
“That’s terrible,” Margot commented. “Did he get it fixed?”
“Yes, with a fight.” She waved a fist in the air, and the loose skin around her triceps giggled. “I might have killed him for that apartment.”
Nancy glanced around at her things with loving adoration, and Margot stirred in her seat. Her appetite dissipated, and she set her fork down. Then Nancy giggled, waggling her finger at Margot.
“I had you going there, didn’t I?” She slapped her knee, and the empty plate on her lap threatened to fall to the floor. “No, my mother raised a good person in me, Margot. However, I must be next in line. I’ve been here a long time.”
“In line?”
“I’ve always heard that the owner would hire the Super from a tenant. I’ve never seen it happen because Coley was around, but I’m expecting any time to get the call. Just you wait and see.”
“Um, well, I wish you luck, Nancy.” Margot slid to the end of her seat and set the plate she held on the table. “I really should be going. Thank you very much for the meal, Nancy. It was delicious.”
Nancy frowned and looked at the plate. “But you’ve hardly touched it.”
Margot touched her stomach. “I don’t have a big appetite.”
“Well, I guess I can bag it up if you’re sure it’s not that you don’t like it.”
“Bag it?” Margot’s eyes widened. “You mean like a doggie bag?”
“Yes, but I have Tupperware. I won’t actually use a bag.”
She laughed and rose with her own plate to carry into the kitchen. Margot sat where she was. Nancy expected her to take the leftovers?
“Bring the plate, honey, so I can scrape it into a bowl.”
Margot winced. Scrape it into a bowl. She picked up the plate with the tips of her fingers now, unable to push away the feeling of disgust. In the kitchen doorway, she hesitated, looking around. Here too Nancy had made use of every surface. Three themes collided—roosters, pumpkins, and flowers. Margot blinked a few times, taking it all in.
“Come on over,” Nancy encouraged her. “You act like you’ve never been in a kitchen. Give me that plate. I’m going to add some more of the turkey too. I’ll never eat it all.”
“Oh no, that’s not necessary.”
“Nonsense! You probably haven’t had the time to go to the store for food. This can be something for later if you get hungry again or even breakfast. I never let the time of day stop me. Course getting older makes that harder. Onions, for example, don’t agree with me anymore.”
Margot’s disgust faded away. “Me either! They have to be cooked. I can’t eat them raw anymore, haven’t been able to for years. Judy knows that and—”
“Who is Judy?”
“No one.” Margot smiled. “Thank you again, Nancy. I hope you enjoy the record.”
Her neighbor plopped a huge plastic bowl into her hands with all the food squishing together inside. “You’re welcome, and come over any time to listen.”
“I will.”
Chapter Eight
Margot stood in her apartment with the window open and the ceiling fan going on the highest setting. She had found an old-fashioned hand fan among her things and made use of it fanning herself.
“I don’t think I can make it without an air conditioner,” she whispered.
“Who are you talking to?”
She started and looked at the cat sitting in the windowsill at her apartment now. “You know it’s not so odd that I should be talking to myself rather than to you.”
The cat licked himself, and she frowned. When someone knocked on the door, she went to answer. Kenny stood on the other side. A tiny curly head peeked out from behind his leg, and big brown eyes stared at her. Margot stared back.
“I’m going to the store. Do you want to add on?” he asked.
“Is that your little sister?” she asked rather than answer his question.
“Yeah, that’s Dottie. She’s shy.” He held a slip of paper in his hand and checked a list. “If you add on, you have to give me ten percent equal to what you spend.”
“Ten percent? Is this your job?”
“Just a way to make candy money for me and Dottie.”
Margot looked at the tot again. “Does she have teeth for candy?”
“Of course she’s got teeth! She’s three.”
“I was only kidding.” Margot turned into her apartment to get her purse, and Kenny followed and shut the door.
“Kitty,” Dottie shouted and ran to drop to her knees in front of the cat.
“Be careful. He’s probably dirty,” Margot said. “And he’s violent.”
Alarm registered in Kenny’s eyes. He snatched his little sister away, and she whined, stretching her arms out toward the cat. The creature yowled in protest as if he understood Margot’s insult. Margot ignored him while she counted her money. What sort of items would be sold at the store Kenny went to, and would it embarrass her to ask? She chewed her lip, thinking about it.
“If he’s not yours, why do you still have him?” Kenny said, struggling with his sister, who was biting and kicking to try to get free.
“I don’t have him. He’s a cat burglar.”
Kenny snorted.
An idea occurred to her. “Do you mind if I have a look at the list for the others?”
He gazed at her quizzically and then handed it over.
Mom – laundry detergent
Ms. Nancy – flour
Jimmy – Twizzlers
Mr./Mrs. Armitage – recycled paper bags
Mr. Mercer – pretzels
Ms. Margot -
“What about Zabrina?” Margot asked.
“Yeah, right.” He laughed. “She would never let me touch her stuff.”
“Why?”
He grinned and started to answer, but Dottie piped up first. “Kenny’s got cooties. Kenny’s got cooties!”
Her older brother shrugged. “That about covers it. Ms. Zabrina is a germ-o-phobe. She’s terrified we all have the plague, so she doesn’t touch us, and she doesn’t let us touch her stuff. I’m surprised she lets Jimmy into her apartment.”
Margot noted the name Jimmy on the list. “Jimmy?”
“Her boyfriend.”
Another bang on Margot’s door brought her head up from the list. She had more visitors her first day in this apartment than she had at the mansion in the last year. “Who could that be?”
Margot opened the door to a man in a sleeveless undershirt. Her hand came up to cover her eyes, but she froze. Maybe that was another weird action. Obviously, or he wouldn’t be out in the hall dressed this way. Margot had seen plenty of people undressed on the television, but real life was very different. She concluded she had lived too sheltered over the years.
“Hey, Kenny still here?” the man in desperate need of clothing and a shave said.
“Hey?” Margot repeated. “Is that how you speak to your mother, young man?”
He scoffed. “No, I call her old lady right after she curses at me, but I guess you�
��re more the sensitive type.” He stuck his hand out. “Jimmy Barber. Nice to meet you, Ms. Margot.”
She smiled and relaxed then took the hand. “Nice to meet you, Jimmy, and please call me Margot. Come in.”
Jimmy strode into the apartment, and as he passed by, she drew in a whiff of his shampoo like he had just stepped from a shower. Did Zabrina make him wash at this time of day, or had he done it of his own volition?
“You don’t have permission to keep him here,” Jimmy growled, pointing at the cat. “He’s gotta go.”
“Who are you, the cat police?” Kenny shot back. Margot noticed he had released his sister, but watched over her while she stroked the feline who seemed like his patience was wearing thin with being touched. “You’re not the Super.”
“No,” Jimmy snapped, “but I know Coley would never have let pets stay, and I’m the next to get the position. I say get him out of here.”
“She could pay a pet fee,” Kenny suggested.
“They have fleas and germs.”
“You have more than I do!”
Margot snorted and then coughed to cover it up. Jimmy looked at her hard. “Do you think this is funny, Margot? Zabrina would lose it if she knew an animal was in the building.”
“So it’s about Zabrina?” she dared challenge him. “I thought you were the next Super.”
He colored. “Don’t mess with me. The Super can evict people.”
Kenny jumped to his feet and faced Jimmy, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “Who gives you the right to threaten her? You’re not the next Super, and you don’t even officially live here. Everybody knows the lease in that apartment is in Ms. Zabrina’s name.”
Jimmy bared his teeth. “Listen, kid, stay out of grown folks business.”
“I’m not a kid. I’m fourteen, and you don’t have any say.”
“Who else is going to do it?” Jimmy taunted him. “That crazy Nancy? Mercer? He can’t see to keep from falling down the stairs. How’s he going to be the Super? No one else is fit. Your mom works too much, and the Armitages are too busy getting high off their plants.”
Margot’s mouth dropped open. “S-someone grows illegal substances in the building?”
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