He Sees You When You're Sleeping

by Carol Higgins Clark

  “Listen, if I lived fifteen minutes away, the way I feel now, I’d take you up on it. But for the three minutes it’ll take me to get there, I’d rather have the car at the door in the morning. You can carry those reservations books out for me. I’m going to keep at them for a while.”

  She kissed Billy lightly on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Okay. I’m heading upstairs. Don’t try to go over those books tonight, Mom. Leave it for the morning.”

  They looked at each other. “I know,” Billy said. “By then it may be too late.”

  So that’s where Billy lives, Sterling thought. He must have an apartment up there. It would be interesting to see what Nor’s home is like. She said it’s only a three-minute drive away. That can’t be too far for me to walk back. Once again he found himself hurrying across the parking lot, this time following Nor and Dennis.

  The temperature has really dropped in these few hours, he thought. He looked up. Clouds were forming and beginning to obscure the moon and stars. He sniffed. There was a hint of snow in the air. I was one of those people who preferred winter to summer, he thought. Annie thought I was crazy. If there was anything she loved, it was a day at the seashore. I remember her family had a place in Spring Lake.

  Nor’s car was a handsome Mercedes sedan. I used to drive one of these, Sterling thought, and in a lot of ways this one doesn’t look that much different from the one I had. As Dennis laid the reservations books on the floor in the back and held the driver’s door open for Nor, Sterling got in the front seat. I never liked to ride in the back of the car, he thought. My legs always felt cramped.

  Nor locked the door and fastened her seat belt. Everybody does that these days, Sterling mused. I wonder if there’s a law about it.

  He readjusted his homburg, smiling as he remembered that next year Marissa would poke fun at it.

  As they pulled out of the driveway, he jumped when Nor muttered aloud, “Mama Heddy-Anna. God help us!”

  Sterling felt a little guilty. Nor thinks she’s alone, and she’s one of those people who talks to herself. I used to do that too, and I’d have died if I learned that someone was eavesdropping on me.

  But it’s okay because I’m here to help them, he comforted himself. Fortunately she turned on the radio and listened to the news the rest of the way.

  Nor’s house was at the end of a cul-de-sac, situated on a generous piece of property. The minute he saw it he sensed that it was the perfect home for her. It looked to him like a renovated farmhouse. The exterior was white clapboard with black shutters. The porch light was on, casting a warm glow around the front door.

  “Thank God to be home,” Nor sighed.

  I know what you mean, Sterling said aloud, then rolled his eyes. Thank God she can’t hear me. I might have given her a heart attack.

  I’m not going to stay long, he promised himself as Nor fished through her purse for her house key, got out of the car, and gathered the reservations books in her arms.

  Sterling walked to the front door, admiring the attractive shrubbery that was lightly coated with snow.

  As soon as Nor opened the door, shut off the alarm, and switched on the light, he realized that she also had great taste. The ground floor was a single, very large room with white walls and wooden floors. A raised-hearth fireplace defined the living room area. At a right angle to it stood a floor to-ceiling-Christmas tree, decorated with strings of candle-shaped bulbs. The bottom three tiers clearly bore Marissa’s touch. Handmade paper ornaments, a quantity of tinsel, and a dozen candy canes demonstrated her idea of how a Christmas tree should look.

  Overstuffed couches, Persian area rugs, fine antique furnishings, and first-class paintings filled the rest of the room. The effect was that of vivid serenity-if there is such a thing, Sterling thought.

  “Cup of cocoa,” Nor murmured as she kicked off her shoes. She walked to the kitchen area, dropped the reservations books on the table, and opened the refrigerator. Hating to rush, Sterling scurried from painting to painting. These are valuable, he thought. I wish I had a chance to really study them. An English hunting scene particularly intrigued him.

  As the attorney for a number of family trusts when he was alive, he’d developed an eye for good art. They used to tell me I could have been an appraiser, he remembered.

  A staircase to the second floor beckoned him. One quick look and then I’m off, he promised himself.

  Nor’s bedroom was the largest. Framed pictures were on the bureau, the dressing table, and the night tables. These were all personal and many of them were of a much younger Nor with Billy’s father. There were at least a half-dozen of Billy with his parents, starting from the time he was an infant. He seemed to be about six years old in the last one that showed the three of them together.

  Sterling poked his head into the first of the other two bedrooms. It was small but cozy, with the uncluttered look of a guest room.

  The third door was closed. The small porcelain tile on it said MARISSA’S PLACE. As he opened the door, Sterling felt a lump in his throat. This child is about to lose out on so much in this upcoming year, he thought.

  The room was enchanting. White wicker furniture. Blue-and-white wallpaper. White eyelet bedspread and curtains. Shelves of books on one wall. A desk with a bulletin board against another.

  He heard Nor’s footsteps on the stairs. It was time to go. Remembering the door had been closed, he quietly pulled it shut, then watched as Nor went into her room. A moment later, with the collar of his chesterfield turned up, his homburg pulled down as far as he could get it, Sterling walked briskly down the road.

  I’ve got several hours to kill, he thought. Billy’s probably asleep. Maybe I’ll just drop by and look in on Marissa. But where exactly does she live? I never was too good at directions.

  Until now there’d been plenty of activity to keep him occupied, but with everyone going to bed, he felt a little lonely as he trudged through the quiet streets.

  Should I try to contact the Heavenly Council? he wondered. Or will they decide I can’t do the job? And if so, what then?

  Suddenly something caught his eye.

  What’s that?

  A piece of paper was fluttering from the sky. It stopped falling when it was directly in front of him. Sterling plucked it out of the air, unfolded it, and walked to the next street lamp to read it.

  It was a map of the village. Marissa’s home and Nor’s Place were clearly indicated. A dotted line started at a point marked “you are here” and gave specific directions-“four blocks east… turn left one block, then right”-showing him the way to Marissa’s house. A second dotted line illustrated the way from there back to the restaurant.

  Sterling looked up, past the moon, past the stars, into eternity. Thank you. I am very grateful, he whispered.

  No matter how late the hour, Dennis Madigan always read the New York Post before settling down to sleep. His wife, Joan, had long ago learned to sleep with his light on.

  Tonight, however, he could not concentrate on the paper. He knew neither Nor nor Billy realized that their lives could be in serious danger. If the Badgetts were as bad as Sean O’Brien portrayed them… Dennis shook his head. When he worked in bars in Manhattan, he’d seen and heard a lot about their kind. None of it good.

  Very. “Wery.” What is this reminding me of? he asked himself as he irritably flipped through the pages of the newspaper. Nor thinks the man might be someone who comes into the restaurant. He can’t be a regular, though, or I’d know him.

  “Wery,” he said aloud.

  Joan opened her eyes and blinked. “What?”

  “Nothing. Sorry, honey. Go back to sleep.”

  “Easy for you to say,” she muttered as she turned her back to him.

  Dennis skipped to the Post’s television section and smiled as he read Linda Stasi’s funny review of a corny holiday special.

  Still not remotely sleepy even though it was 3:30, he began to skim the restaurant pages. The write-up o
n a new midtown restaurant caught his eye. “We started with vichyssoise…,” the columnist began.

  Sounds like a good joint, Dennis thought. Have to check it out. He and Joan enjoyed going into the city occasionally and trying new places.

  He stared at the paper. Vichyssoise. He remembered a smart aleck waiter at Nor’s-one who didn’t last long-joking that a customer who ordered “wichyssoise” last time, now would like a cup of “wegetable” soup.

  What’s the customer’s name? Dennis thought. I can see him. He and his wife always had a cocktail at the bar. Nice people. I didn’t think of him right away because that’s the only hint of an accent he had, and he hasn’t been around in a long time…

  In his mind, he could see a face. He’s local, Dennis thought. And his name… his name… it sounds European…

  Hans Kramer!

  That’s it! That’s his name!

  Dennis grabbed the phone. Nor answered on the first ring. “Nor, I’ve got it. The guy on the answering machine. Could it be Hans Kramer?”

  “Hans Kramer,” she said, slowly. “That doesn’t ring a bell with me. I don’t remember…”

  “Think, Nor. He ordered ‘wichyssoise’ and ‘wegetable’ soup.”

  “Oh my God, of course… you’re right.” Nor leaned on one elbow and pulled herself up. Sean O’Brien’s card was propped against the lamp on her night table. As she reached for it she could feel adrenaline surging through her body.

  “I know Kramer has something to do with computers, Dennis. Maybe he has a warehouse. I’ll call Sean O’Brien this minute. I just hope we’re not too late.”

  As Sterling approached Marissa’s house, everything looked quiet and peaceful. All was dark inside except for a faint light shining through an upstairs window.

  My mother used to leave the hall light on for me, he remembered. And she’d leave my bedroom door open a crack so I could see it. I was chicken, he thought with a smile. Never mind the light, I slept with my teddy bear till I was ten.

  Noting a small sign that indicated the house was wired against intruders, he slipped inside, not bothering to open the door just in case the alarm was on. He had the feeling that the Heavenly Council wanted him to move around like everybody else except when it prevented him from doing his job, but he was very sure they didn’t want him setting off alarms.

  He tiptoed up the stairs and stepped over Roy ’s safety gate, hoisting his leg high to clear it. How big does he think those kids are anyhow? Sterling wondered as he felt a tug on the cuff of his trousers. The next thing he knew he was tumbling onto the hallway floor.

  Thank God I don’t make any noise, he thought as he stared up at the ceiling. His hat had gone flying. He got up slowly, aware of a faint twinge in his back. Retrieving the homburg, he resumed his attempt to visit Marissa.

  Her bedroom was the last one at the end of the hallway. All the bedroom doors were slightly ajar. A light snore was coming from inside the master bedroom. As he passed the munchkins’ room, he could hear the sound of one of the boys stirring. Sterling hesitated and listened closely, but then the child seemed to settle down again.

  Even though the night was beginning to cloud over, there was enough light from the heavens for him to see Marissa’s face clearly. She was curled up in bed, her hair soft on her cheek, the covers tucked around her.

  A pile of boxes in the corner were testimony to the fact that she had received an abundance of presents for Christmas and her birthday. Not surprising, Sterling thought. I’d love to be able to give her something myself.

  He sat in the same chair he would sit in next year, when he would talk to Marissa for the first time. From there he could study her face. She looks like an angel, he thought tenderly. If only she didn’t have to go through the change that is coming. If only I had the power to keep her world the way it is now. But I can’t, so next year I’ll do everything I can to put her world back together again. By hook or by crook, he resolved.

  And not just because I want to go to heaven. I truly want to help her. She looks so small and vulnerable. Hard to believe she’s the same kid who was trying to call the shots at the restaurant today, and who didn’t waste any time phoning her father to get the lowdown on the party.

  With a smile that ended in a sigh, Sterling got up and left the room. As he went down the hallway he heard one of the munchkins start to cry. Then the other one joined in.

  Luckily, they don’t need me, Sterling thought. An instant later Roy staggered out of the bedroom and into the nursery. “Daddy’s here,” he crooned. “Roy Junior, Robert, Daddy’s here.”

  Denise has him well trained, Sterling thought. My friends used to turn a deaf ear when their kids started howling in the middle of the night. But times have changed.

  I was an only child, he thought as he descended the stairs. My parents were in their forties when I was born. I became the center of their universe. They were in heaven long before I arrived in the celestial waiting room.

  It will be so good to see Mother and Dad again, he thought, once more glancing skyward.

  Sterling consulted the map before he left the house, then made his way to Nor’s restaurant. As he walked through the quiet streets, he suddenly felt an acute sense of urgency. Even though it absolutely was not coming from anyplace nearby, he was beginning to smell smoke.

  They did it! he thought. The warehouse fire has just been set.

  Sean O’Brien had put in twenty years with the Nassau County Police Department. During that time he had learned to expect predawn phone calls if there was an important development in a case he was working on.

  When his phone rang at 3:40, Sean woke up immediately and grabbed it. As he hoped, it was Nor.

  “Sean, I just heard from Dennis. He came up with the name of the guy on the answering machine, and he’s right. I’m absolutely positive that he’s right.”

  “Who is it?”

  “His name is Hans Kramer. He lives in Syosset and has some kind of computer software company. He comes into the restaurant occasionally.”

  “Okay, Nor. I’ll get right on it.”

  Thoroughly awake now, Sean sat on the side of the bed. He was alone in the room. His wife, Kate, a nurse, was working the night shift on the pediatrics floor of North Shore hospital.

  His first call was to police headquarters in Syosset. There was a chance Kramer was known to them.

  It proved to be a good bet. Nick Amaretto, the lieutenant in charge, knew exactly who Kramer was. “Nice guy. He’s lived in town twenty years. Was on the zoning board for a while. Ran the Red Cross drive a couple of years ago. Has his own software company.”

  “Does he have a warehouse?”

  “Yeah. He bought property in the area off the expressway that had that string of crummy motels. He built a nice little complex with an office and warehouse.”

  “I have a tip that it may be torched. A matter of an over-due loan from the Badgett brothers.”

  “Oh, boy. We’ll get over there right away. I’ll contact the bomb squad and the fire department.”

  “I’m calling the feds. Talk to you later.”

  “Wait a minute, Sean,” the lieutenant snapped. “Something big is coming in on the radio.”

  Sean O’Brien knew even before Amaretto got back on the phone that he was too late. The Kramer complex was already in flames.

  Hans Kramer received the call from his security service at 3:43 A.M. The smoke detectors in the warehouse had been activated. The fire department was on the way.

  In silent desperation, Hans and his wife, Lee, threw on clothes, stuffed their bare feet into sneakers, grabbed jackets, and ran to the car.

  I dropped a lot of the insurance coverage, Hans thought desperately. I couldn’t afford the premiums. If the fire department can’t save the warehouse, what will I do?

  He felt a tightening in his chest. Even though the car had not yet warmed up, he was dripping perspiration.

  “Hans, you’re trembling,” Lee said, her voice sick with worry. “No
matter how bad it is, we can handle it. I promise, we can handle it.”

  “Lee, you don’t understand. I borrowed money, a lot of money. I thought I could pay it back. I was sure business would pick up.” The road was almost empty. He pressed the accelerator and the car raced ahead.

  “Hans, the doctor has been warning you. That last stress test you took wasn’t good. Please calm down.”

  I owe them three hundred thousand dollars, Hans thought. The warehouse is worth three million, but I’m only insured enough to cover the mortgage. I won’t have enough to pay off the loan.

  As they turned onto the street that led to the complex, both Hans and Lee gasped. In the distance they could see flames shooting through the darkness, fierce angry flames surrounded by thick billowing smoke.

  “Oh, dear God,” Lee breathed.

  Hans, in shock, said nothing. They did this, Hans thought. The Badgetts. This is their answer to my request for an extension on the loan.

  When Hans and Lee reached the warehouse, it was surrounded by fire trucks. Gallons of water from high-powered hoses were pouring into the inferno, but it was obvious the blaze could not be contained.

  As Hans pushed open the door of the car, a gigantic wave of pain washed over him, and he toppled onto the driveway.

  Moments later he could feel something being clamped over his nostrils, a jolting in his chest, and strong hands lifting him. In a crazy way he felt relieved.

  It was all beyond his control.

  Sterling arrived back at the restaurant and was not surprised to see Nor getting out of her car in the parking lot. They must know about the fire already, he thought as he broke into a trot.

  He followed Nor inside and up to Billy’s apartment, which encompassed the entire second floor of the building. Dennis was already there, and Billy had made coffee.

  “Sean is on his way over,” Nor told Billy. She had no make-up on. Her hair was loosely caught up in a comb, but long tendrils were slipping around her neck and face. She was wearing a light blue sweat suit and a pair of sneakers.