The Nosy Neighbor

by Fern Michaels

  “Well sure. Whom would I tell? Maybe you’re just stressed. Sometimes it helps if you talk about things that are bothering you.” He didn’t mean to look at the dining room table, but he did. “The ring is gone from your finger. You did say you weren’t getting married, so I have to assume something went awry. Maybe that’s what’s stressing you out.”

  “You’re a lawyer, right? I want to retain you. Here,” Lucy said, fishing in the purse that was on the table behind the sofa. “Here’s five bucks for my retainer. Everything is now privileged, and you can’t talk to anyone about me. Correct?”

  “Well, yeah. Okay, you’re my client.” Wylie pocketed the five dollars. “I’m not going to like this, am I?” he said as he made his way to the kitchen.

  “No,” Lucy whispered, “you are not going to like this at all. Think!” she shouted.

  “All right, I’m thinking!” Wylie bellowed from the kitchen. “Can you hear me?”

  “I can hear your voice but I can’t hear your thoughts,” Lucy shouted again. “Keep thinking.”

  Ten minutes later, Lucy called a halt to the experiment. “Obviously, in order for me to hear you, you have to be reasonably close.” As she hugged her knees to her chest, both dogs pressed against her sides. “I’m scared, Wylie. I don’t think I’ve ever been this scared before. I don’t know what to do.”

  “I have an idea, Lucy. I’ll warm up some dinner for you, make you a cup of tea, and we can talk. I have all night. Since tomorrow is Saturday, I don’t have to go into the city. I’ll help in whatever way I can.” All thoughts of the legal brief he had intended to work on during the weekend flew right out of his mind.

  Lucy took a moment to reflect on what she was doing. Who was this man she was literally trusting with her life? A neighbor whose dog had moved in with her so it could be with her dog. A neighbor she had only seen once or twice and had never even spoken to until a day ago. Maybe she really was crazy and needed a shrink. No, she told herself, Wylie is okay. He’s warm, compassionate, and he loves animals. Putting my trust in Wylie is not a mistake. Childishly, she crossed her fingers.

  • • •

  Lucy walked out of Kennedy Hospital on Saturday afternoon with Wylie at her side. Surprisingly, her head was quiet. The CAT scan, the MRI, and all the other tests she’d undergone had showed no abnormalities. As Dr. Schlesinger put it, “You’re golden!”

  Wylie cupped Lucy’s elbow in his hand. “I don’t know about you, but I sure feel relieved. You must be exhausted. Why don’t you wait here while I get the car. It’s still pretty icy, and this light snow is masking the ice patches.”

  “Okay, Wylie. I really appreciate your coming with me today. I owe you.”

  Wylie yanked at the baseball cap on his head. He turned the brim to the back before he loped off to the parking lot.

  Lucy stepped under the overhang as a family of four exited the building. She strained to pick up their thoughts as they discussed the new baby they’d just seen. Nothing came back to her. She frowned. Maybe she could only hear thoughts if the person was stressed, excited, or angry. Maybe she herself had to be stressed, excited, or angry. She’d certainly felt that way last night. She was calm now that a team of doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with her after five hours of testing. Maybe the whole thing was some kind of crazy fluke. She was glad she hadn’t told any of the doctors about the Chinese fire drill going on inside her head. She was relieved also because she wouldn’t have to seek out a shrink and bare her soul.

  Wylie pulled alongside the curb in his Land Rover, reached across, and opened the door for her. The heater was blasting warm air. Lucy buckled up and leaned her head back against the headrest. “Are you thinking, Wylie? Because if you are, I can’t hear you.”

  Wylie grinned. “That’s a relief. Listen, how do you feel about going out for some Chinese? While you were being tested, I did all my Saturday errands, made Coop his meat loaf, fed the dogs, picked up my dry cleaning, and did my week’s grocery shopping. I even washed some clothes. My evening is free.”

  “Chinese is good, but let’s take it home. The weather’s pretty ugly. I’d rather sit by a fire and eat. I miss the dogs.”

  “That’s doable. You sure you’re feeling okay?”

  “Pretty much so. My head isn’t a war zone at the moment. What if it comes back? How am I going to deal with that?”

  Wylie stopped for a traffic light at the corner of Grove and Oak Tree Road. “I don’t know, Lucy. I think you should try and figure out why this happened to you. Stress does some really strange things to people. If you want to talk about it, I’m a good listener. You paid me a retainer, so you might as well get your money’s worth.”

  Lucy laughed. “You have a point. Do you want me to call and order the food?”

  “Good idea. Get some of everything. Do you like Chinese beer?”

  Lucy looked across at Wylie. “I love Chinese beer. Do you?”

  “Yeah, and Japanese beer, too. I like eating hibachi food with a good bottle of Sapporo. How about we go tomorrow night? Little Tokyo has the best.” Wylie waited, holding his breath, for her answer. If she said yes, that meant they had a date. If she said no, that would mean she was still hung up on the guy who gave her the headlamp for a ring. A ring she no longer wore.

  Lucy weighed the question. She thought about the federal agents, about Jonathan and what was going on in her life. She adored Japanese food. “I’d love to go to Little Tokyo with you, Wylie.”

  Well hot damn! She must like me, he thought.

  She must like me. Lucy turned to look at Wylie. “Why wouldn’t I like you after all you’ve done for me?”

  Wylie slammed his foot on the brake and turned into the parking lot of the grammar school on Oak Tree Road. After the Rover came to a complete stop, he turned to look at her. “I didn’t say anything, Lucy. You just read my mind. Again.”

  Lucy stared at Wylie as she struggled to digest his words. Her head wasn’t hurting. She felt fine. Even the pain behind her eyes and ears was gone. “Are you sure you didn’t say anything?”

  Wylie yanked at his cap. “I’m positive. I was thinking how great it was and that maybe you liked me after all. I was excited.”

  Lucy tilted her head for a better look at her companion. “Maybe that’s part of the answer. You were excited. Are you thinking now?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Well, if you are, I don’t have a clue as to what you’re thinking. This is crazy!” Lucy dropped her head into her hands and started to cry.

  Wylie looked across at Lucy, uncertain what to do. If there was one thing in the world he hated, it was seeing a woman cry. For a moment he was tempted to lie and say he’d spoken aloud just so she would stop crying. “Listen, Lucy, we’re going to figure this out. I have a friend who’s on staff at Duke University. He studies parapsychology and stuff of that nature. I can call him. It won’t hurt to ask questions. I’m thinking this is just a temporary kind of thing, something you’re going to have to live with till it…till it goes away. You said yourself you were feeling better, your head is clear, nothing hurts. You did have all those tests. Physically, you’re okay.”

  Lucy raised her head and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Okay,” she murmured. “Are you still thinking?”

  “Yes. My brain is going a mile a minute. Can you hear me?”

  Lucy shook her head. “Okay, I was going to call the restaurant. We can talk about this later.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me.” Wylie jammed the baseball cap back on his head. “Make sure you get some hot mustard.”

  • • •

  By ten o’clock the kitchen was clean, Wylie had walked the dogs, replenished the fire, and poured a fresh glass of beer for both himself and Lucy. He carried a tray loaded with munchies to snack on.

  This was what he liked, what he had hungered for when he was married to Allison. It hadn’t happened because Allison wasn’t into home, hearth, dogs, and Chinese out of a carton. The only time s
he’d ever curled up on the sofa was when she had the flu. She didn’t like a fire because it bothered her cat-green contact lenses. She didn’t like beer because it bloated her. Chinese and Japanese food made her sleepy. The only time she came alive was when she went shopping or they dined at a five-star restaurant.

  “Do you want me to go home, Lucy? I don’t mind sleeping here on the couch. I don’t think you should be alone.”

  “No, Wylie, please stay, but you don’t have to sleep on the couch. I have a spare bedroom. I don’t think I want to be alone.”

  Wylie heaved a sigh of relief as Coop bounded onto his lap. He did everything but purr so Wylie would rub his belly. His owner obliged.

  Sadie snorted her jealousy and started to paw the carpet. She let loose with an earsplitting bark. Coop leaped off Wylie’s lap and raced down the hall after his girlfriend. Lucy laughed. “Dogs are so funny sometimes.”

  Wylie stretched out his long legs, his eyes on the dancing flames that were so mesmerizing. He risked a glance at Lucy, who was staring at him intently. He wanted to say something, but the words stuck in his throat. The decision was taken out of his hands when the phone rang. He could see the panic in Lucy’s face when she debated if she should answer the phone.

  “I always get nervous when the phone rings after nine o’clock,” Wylie volunteered.

  “Yeah, me, too.” Lucy picked up the phone, her greeting strained and cautious.

  She listened to Special Agent Connors ask how she was feeling before she agreed to a meeting at noon on Monday. “Fine,” was Lucy’s comment before she hung up the phone. She was jittery. That meeting, she knew, would be where the rubber met the road.

  “Is something wrong?” Wylie asked. “What? You look scared to death. Tell me. Listen, I have a gun. I’m not a great shot, but I can shoot. I have a permit, too. What? Talk to me, Lucy.”

  Lucy debated for all of five seconds. “Okay, come over here,” she said, pointing to the sofa. Wylie needed no prompting. He walked over and sat beside her.

  Lucy pointed to the stack of brokerage statements. “Those are just the beginning.” She talked nonstop for twenty minutes, ending the conversation by pointing to the shredded remains of the wedding invitations on the dining room table. “I’m going to sell my gown on eBay!”

  Wylie stared at his neighbor. “That’s…that’s spook stuff.”

  “No, spooks are what they call CIA agents. FBI agents are just cold, steely-eyed people with no hearts. They believe I know all about this. I swear to God, I don’t know a thing. They’re ruining my life. Remember that man in Atlanta who they thought had something to do with the bombing at the Olympics? They ruined his life. That’s what they’re going to do to me.”

  “Only if you let them. You said that’s not your signature on the brokerage accounts. That will hold up in a court of law. As your lawyer, I know how to get down and dirty if you want me to.”

  Lucy pressed her knuckles against her eyes so she wouldn’t cry. “Wylie, the signature on those papers is mine. I’ve been racking my brain, trying to figure out how all this happened, and now I remember. They have me dead to rights. That’s why they were so smug when I kept saying my signature was forged.”

  Lucy lowered her head, her eyes full of shame. “About a year ago, Jonathan and I were celebrating some big deal he’d put together. I don’t even know what the deal was, just that it was big, and he’d made a bundle of money. We were at my place in New York and had had several bottles of wine. The truth is, I was pretty tipsy. I thought Jonathan was, too. Out of the blue, he opened his briefcase and pulled out all these papers and asked me to sign them. Most of them were blank, you know, the last page on a stapled document. He said his attorneys were putting my name on some of his holdings so if anything happened to him, I’d benefit. He cited how things happened with airlines after 9-11, and he wanted to make sure I was taken care of. I signed everything he put in front of me. I never gave it another thought until those agents showed up. I was going to marry the man, so why wouldn’t I sign the papers? I wasn’t thinking like a lawyer at the time,” Lucy said defensively. “It is my signature on every single piece of paper, and it is my word against Jonathan’s. I feel so incredibly stupid. I knew better, and I still did it. I guess he had me bewitched.”

  “That’s not good, but then you already know that. What exactly does the FBI want you to do?”

  “That’s just it, I don’t know. They’re coming back on Monday at noon. I guess you need to be here since you’re my lawyer now. Like I said, I just kept telling them I didn’t know anything. I don’t, not really. They want me to help them. With the FBI hounding me and what’s going on in my head, I don’t know if I’m coming or going.

  “Jonathan duped me, Wylie! It wasn’t like I was desperate to find a man, to get married. I wasn’t. He came along, a nice guy, he knew how to flatter me and treat me as if I were special, and I fell for it. Dammit, he isn’t even who he says he is, and he’s coming here on Wednesday. That’s only four days away. How am I supposed to act? What am I supposed to say?”

  Wylie stared at Lucy, a helpless look on his face. “I guess the agents will tell you what to do and what to say. I can make a pest of myself if that will help.”

  “There’s one other thing, Wylie. I probably should have told you earlier, but I didn’t know you. I don’t mean that I know you now…this isn’t coming out right. Look, I didn’t exactly lie. I just didn’t…what I didn’t do was…you do know me. You prosecuted a case in which I was the defendant’s attorney. I’m Lucille Baker, not Baycur. Rachel Muller has a strong accent and pronounces my name wrong. Please, don’t hold that against me. I moved here to New Jersey because I was burned out. I needed to fall back and regroup. People as a rule have a very jaded opinion of lawyers. I didn’t want anyone to know what I did. We can talk it to death, but I would prefer not to.”

  Wylie slapped at his forehead. “I knew I knew you. You look different. Didn’t you have very short red hair back then? Man, you were hell on wheels in that courtroom. I almost didn’t mind losing to you. I did, but it was a pleasure watching you strut yourself. You just walked away, eh? Just like that.”

  “Yes, just like that. And now this. You aren’t angry with me, are you?”

  “Nah. I understand. I have six sisters. I know how women think and act. Are you giving up the law altogether? What’s your feeling now about the guy you were going to marry?” He hoped his voice sounded casual.

  “No, I’m not giving up the law. I was just thinking the other day about how bored I was. I’ll probably go back to the office after the first of the year. If I’m not in jail, that is. As for Jonathan…I don’t know how I feel about him—aside from angry. It’s over, that’s for sure. Will I pine away for him? I doubt it. I thought I was in love with him. Maybe I was in love with the idea of love.”

  Her voice was so pitiful-sounding, Wylie grinned. He knew all about that. His mother was forever telling him stories about his sisters and the bums they were going out with. Fear of becoming old maids, she’d said. He needed to say something to wipe away the awful look on his neighbor’s face. “I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing, Lucy. How much do you think you can get for your gown on eBay? I have a bunch of junk I’m thinking of selling,” Wylie added, his curiosity aroused.

  Lucy burst out laughing. Wylie joined in at his own expense.

  She’s free. Maybe that means I have a shot. Been a long time since I met anyone I like half as much. We have a lot in common, we’re both lawyers, even though I said I would never again marry a lawyer. She loves my dog. That might be a plus. Lucy lowered her gaze to her lap. There was no way she wanted Wylie to know she was hearing his thoughts. Especially thoughts like these.

  “You aren’t reading my mind, are you?” Wylie asked uneasily.

  Lucy shook her head. “I think I’m going to go to bed. Tomorrow I’m going to drive to Rutgers and use their library. I want to read up on what’s going on inside my head. You’re welcome
to come along.”

  “Well, sure. Good night, Lucy. I can make us eggs Benedict in the morning to earn my keep if that’s okay with you.”

  “It’s very okay with me. I love eggs Benedict.”

  • • •

  “Oooh, it’s so beautiful,” Lucy gasped as she walked over to the sliding doors to let the dogs out into the yard. “I can’t believe it snowed five inches during the night. Before Thanksgiving no less. It looks just like a winter wonderland. The dogs are having so much fun.” She watched as both dogs raced the length, then the width of the yard, barking and yelping at the strange phenomenon.

  Wylie chuckled at Lucy’s exuberant tone as he, too, looked out the kitchen window at the cavorting dogs. He looked up when Lucy entered the kitchen. She looked surprised at what she was seeing. “I borrowed your apron since I’m a sloppy cook. I went home earlier to shower and shave and to turn up my heat. I’ve been up since five o’clock. Did you sleep well?”

  Lucy sat down at the table. Wylie looked so at home in the kitchen. Her kitchen. Jonathan had an aversion to kitchens. She couldn’t ever remember if he’d set foot in the kitchen of her brownstone when she’d lived in New York. Most times she’d brought him a cup of coffee or a drink. She’d never cooked for him, though. Thanksgiving would be the first time.

  “I hope this tastes as good as it looks,” Lucy said, unfolding her napkin. “I feel like I’m taking advantage of you, Wylie. But, to answer your question, I slept soundly.”

  Wylie raked his fingers through his unruly hair. He squinted at his neighbor, a suspicious look on his face. “You are not taking advantage of me. I’m glad I can help. I haven’t had this much excitement since I broke my ankle. That was six years ago. You aren’t reading my mind, are you?”

  “No, I’m not. I wish I could explain how it works, Wylie. Right now I can hear a jumble of voices. There’s nothing clear, nothing distinct. Once in a while a clear word will surface, but it has no meaning. I guess right now it’s because all the neighbors are outside shoveling snow and talking to one another. Are you thinking now?”