The Nosy Neighbor

by Fern Michaels

  Three minutes later he was outside, trying to make his way to the driveway that led to the road. He had memorized the MapQuest directions and knew exactly where he was going. All he needed was to get to his destination.

  By the time Jonathan worked his way to the front of the hotel and the downward-sloping driveway, he was already exhausted. The boots were impossibly heavy, and, before he knew what was happening, he was on his rear end, sliding down the partially cleared drive. When he finally used the heels of the boots to bring himself to a skidding stop, snow had ballooned up and around him, going up his sleeves and down his boots. Overhead, the stinging flakes beat against his face as it covered him better than any blanket. He looked over his shoulder and saw the handles of the green canvas bag at the top of the driveway. He had no conscious memory of dropping the bag. It looked, from what he could see, like it was in a drift. If the snow continued the way it was, it would be covered completely in another hour. It would be sheer torture to try and make his way back to the top of the driveway. So he would lose his wing tips. He made the decision to leave the bag.

  Somehow, Jonathan managed to get to his feet. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but a vast wasteland of snow. There was no sign of humanity, no cars, no trucks, no sign of life. He knew, as he climbed over a steep snowdrift, that to his right was the Metro train station. All he had to do was make it to the traffic light, cross over, and he would be on Wood Avenue. A steep hill if he chose to go that way. Or, he could make a left on Route 27 and walk to the town of Metuchen, where he would then follow Central Avenue to Edison. There he would make another left on Park Avenue and take that directly to the development where Lucy lived.

  His head down, Jonathan trudged on, opting to take Route 27 in the hope snowplows had been through earlier.

  Time lost all meaning as Jonathan urged his body and his feet to cooperate.

  He talked to himself when the images of warm waterfalls and tropical breezes failed to help him. He cursed and vented, his lips blue with cold.

  It was eleven-thirty by his watch when he came to an intersection.

  Jonathan had yet to see a human being or a vehicle. He kept slogging forward, past Saint Joe’s School for Boys on the left, private homes on the right. He trudged up a small hill and saw a huge sign that said CHARLIE BROWN’S RESTAURANT.

  The scarf around his neck was full of ice and bone cold on his neck. He knew he was in trouble when he started to feel light-headed. Would he die out there?

  He heard the sound, saw dim yellow lights through the swirling snow, and knew instantly that it was a snowplow. He didn’t stop but kept moving. The plow turned right. There was supposed to be a traffic light, but it was out. It had to be Park Avenue.

  Jonathan turned and followed the plow. It was easier going. Maybe he wouldn’t die after all. Still, it took him another twenty minutes to trudge to the gas station on the corner of Stephenville Parkway and Park Avenue. He walked the half block, falling twice, face-first into the snow. He managed to get to his feet knowing he was close to Nellie’s house. Just a little farther. He literally staggered to the corner of David Court and turned right. He fell again, got up, and fell back down. He rolled and rolled, over and over, until he came to the first house on David Court. Using the last of his strength, he struggled to his feet, forged his way up the driveway and around to the side door of the garage. With his elbow, he smashed one of the small panes of glass, slid his hand inside, and undid the lock. He literally fell through the open door.

  The boots were the first thing to come off before he entered the kitchen. He felt drunk when he lurched his way to the thermostat to turn it up. When he went back to the garage to close and lock the door he thought he heard voices. I must be delirious.

  Back inside Nellie’s house, he looked around. Other than the furnishings, the house had the exact same layout as Lucy’s. He started to shed his clothes as he made his way to the first-floor bathroom, where he turned on the shower. Thank God there was hot water. His body burned and tingled as he stood under the steaming spray. Maybe he should use cold water, tepid water. Like hell.

  He still wasn’t sure if he was going to die or not. He told himself at that point he didn’t even care. All he wanted was to be warm again.

  When the hot water ran cold, Jonathan stepped from the shower and put on Nellie’s flannel bathrobe, hanging on the back of the door. He shuffled out of the steamy bathroom in search of liquor. He found a bottle of cognac and a bottle of apricot brandy in one of the kitchen cabinets. He couldn’t get the bottle to his lips fast enough. When his throat and stomach protested, he capped the bottle.

  The house was cozy warm as he made his way to the second floor, the brandy bottle clutched tightly in his hand. He’d read somewhere that old people liked to use electric blankets. He hoped Nellie was one of those people. She was. He turned the blanket to high before he pulled down the covers. While he waited for the bed to warm up, he rummaged in Nellie’s drawers and found a pair of flannel pajamas. Nellie must be fat, he decided as he climbed into them. One leg into the pajama bottom, he jerked to awareness and hobbled to the bedroom window when he heard what he thought was Lucy’s voice. And then another voice carried on the wind. A man’s voice. Lucy and a man, literally outside this house. A devilish smile ripped across his face. He yanked at the pajama bottom as he made his way to the bed. “Glad to know where I can find you, Lucy. See you later…”

  Jonathan fell into the bed. He had the presence of mind to turn off the blanket before he pulled the covers up to his chin. His last conscious thought was that he wasn’t going to die after all. The watch on his wrist said the time was 1:12.

  • • •

  Jake and the dogs were waiting in the foyer when Lucy opened the door. Wind and snow spiraled through. Coop reared up and started to howl. Sadie followed suit. Lulu danced around in a circle, yapping and growling.

  “We must look like something from another planet,” Wylie said. “It’s us!” he said to the howling dogs as he dropped his sack of food. The moment he ripped off his dark hat, the dogs stopped their racket.

  “You look…frozen,” Jake said.

  “Guess what, Jake, we are frozen. You’re in charge of this food,” Wylie said, pointing to the sacks of food that were dripping melted snow onto the floor. “Lucy and I are going to get into some warm clothes and sit by the fire. I don’t know when I’ve ever been this exhausted.”

  Lucy just shook her head as she stepped out of her boots and weaved her way to the steps. “I’m going to take a warm bath. I’d appreciate it, Jake, if you’d make a blazing fire. I’m going to wrap myself in a blanket and take a nap.”

  “Me, too,” Wylie said. “You’re in charge, Jake.”

  “Hey, Lucy, the FBI called. They want you to call them back. The agent said it was urgent. I left the number by the phone in the family room. And, before you can ask, they said they got Wylie’s number from the phone book. I guess they assumed you would be here. Those guys don’t miss a trick. I didn’t confirm or deny but said if I saw you, I’d give you the message.”

  Lucy’s response was to raise her middle finger high over her head. Jake chuckled as he picked up the sacks of food, a happy smile on his face. He wasn’t going to starve after all.

  • • •

  It was seven o’clock, and time to wake up his hosts, when Jake set the table. The timer for the oven pinged, confirming his intention. Ah, his Bisquick biscuits were done. They were a rich golden color. Perfect. The pot on top of the stove held chili, the only thing he really knew how to cook. He hoped he hadn’t made it too hot. He himself loved hot, the hotter the better. Who was he kidding? He loved food, anything that was chewable. He’d chopped onions and grated cheese to sprinkle on top of the robust meal. He’d even baked the pie he’d found pushed back behind bags of soup bones in the freezer. The expiration date on the box said the pie had expired six months ago. He ignored the date and cooked it anyway. Pie was pie, and it was frozen, so how could it
be bad?

  He’d played housekeeper all afternoon while his hosts slept. He’d replenished the fire three or four times, cleaned the hallway, set the capons in cold water in the laundry room sink to thaw, put everything else away, then watched the snow fall outside.

  Jake walked over to the sliding glass doors, where he turned on the deck lights. Damn, it was still snowing. Perhaps not as heavily, but it was still coming down.

  He went into the family room, where he bent down to wake up his hosts. “Rise and shine, boys and girls, dinner is ready. It’s seven-thirty, and it is still snowing. Chop-chop. I slaved all afternoon in the kitchen, and I don’t want it to get cold.”

  Lucy stretched inside the quilt she was wrapped in. She felt blissfully warm and contented. “Seven-thirty at night!”

  “Uh-huh. You’ve been asleep for over five hours. It’s supposed to snow through the night and finally stop by midmorning tomorrow.”

  “What did you cook, Jake? Hey, I thought you didn’t know how to cook,” Wylie grumbled as he kicked his quilt aside.

  Jake flapped his arms to get them to move. “My one and only specialty, red-hot chili. We have biscuits and pie and, of course, fresh coffee. Let’s go, let’s go. I’m starving.”

  Lucy was on her hands and knees trying to get upright. Every muscle and bone in her body protested. Jake reached out a hand to pull her to her feet. She winced in pain as she limped her way to the downstairs bathroom.

  Jake braced his feet solidly on the floor before he held out his hand to Wylie.

  “Son of a bitch,” Wylie seethed. “I hurt, Jake.”

  “Stop whining and get your ass upstairs and cleaned up. Work the kinks out.”

  Wylie eyed the stairway and knew he couldn’t make his legs go up them. “I’ll just wait for Lucy to come out. So the FBI called…”

  “Yeah, and they sounded…pissed that neither you nor Lucy was here. They did say it was urgent, Wylie. I think Lucy should call them after dinner.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s Lucy’s decision,” Wylie said as he staggered, with Jake’s help, toward the downstairs bathroom. His eyes shut, he leaned wearily against the wall and waited for Lucy to come out.

  • • •

  Lucy pushed her chair away from the table. “That was really good, Jake. I ate way too much. Where did you learn to make biscuits?”

  “I followed the directions on the box. It wasn’t like I had anything else to do. You guys were wiped out, and I didn’t know how long you’d sleep. How about some pie?”

  Lucy shook her head, as Wylie said, “A small piece and some more coffee. Lucy’s right, Jake. The chili was hot and delicious. Thanks for taking over.”

  Jake bustled about the kitchen but talked as he worked. “Lucy, are you going to call that guy at the FBI?”

  “In the morning. What could he possibly have to tell me that’s urgent? The morning is time enough, and besides, it’s almost ten o’clock. They’re just guessing that I’m here. Somebody probably alerted them that we were in Watchung. Like that’s urgent. I’ve read enough novels about the FBI to know everything they do or say is urgent with them. I told you before, I don’t trust them. I think I just overreacted yesterday. There’s no way Jonathan could get here in this storm. If I had to take a wild guess as to the ‘urgent’ call, I’d say they probably have information that he’s on a flight here or his flight is grounded. I’ll start to worry when there’s something more for me to sink my teeth into.” Lucy grinned suddenly. “Let’s not forget these three killer dogs who are guarding us. As I said, morning is time enough.”

  “Lucy, this might be a good time for me to start testing you if you’re up to it. I’d like you to develop your powers of ESP so you can call on them if you ever find yourself in a dangerous situation.

  “Do you remember when I first got here, I told you both about the Pentagon’s secret projects. They wanted to investigate extrasensory phenomena to see if the sheer power of the human mind could be harnessed to perform various acts of espionage. It was written up in the New York Times sometime during the mideighties. They spent millions of dollars, according to three different reports. I’m in the process of trying to track all this down. I don’t know what it will mean other than to prove maybe you’re one of those people whose mind can be harnessed. I don’t think we’re talking espionage here, but maybe something damn close to it. On the other hand, it could really have nothing to do with you, and your condition is just temporary, a freak occurrence that will dissipate in time.”

  “I don’t want to be a freak of nature. I just want it to go away,” Lucy said.

  “No, Lucy, you don’t want it to go away until this crisis is over. You and I are going to go in a quiet room, and I’m going to work with you. We’ll see if we can rein your, ah, new talent, in to the point where you can control it and call upon it if you need to. I am almost certain, when your life returns to normal, your…talent will fade away. We should get a weather update before we start.”

  Wylie looked up from his pie. “Why?”

  Jake shrugged.

  When Coop and Sadie barreled through the laundry room and raced to the sliding doors Lucy bolted out of her chair. “You didn’t close the blinds, Wiley,” she admonished as she ran into the windowless laundry room.

  “What the hell…” Wylie, too, was off his chair, running toward the sliding doors. Coop was growling and snarling as he raced back and forth, Sadie on his heels. Lulu cowered by Jake’s feet, begging to be picked up. He obliged.

  The little dog’s trembling limbs brought Jake to attention. “Lock the damn doors, Wylie. NOW!” Wylie didn’t have to be told twice. He slammed the latch into place and dropped the dowel standing in the corner into the track. He looked confused when he turned around to stare at Jake.

  Lulu in one hand, the cordless phone in the other along with the sticky Post-it, Jake headed for the laundry room.

  Lucy cowered in the corner beside the dryer, her hands cupped over her ears. Damn snow…bitch…ruin my life…Her face was whiter than the snow that was blanketing their immediate world.

  Wylie and Jake both dropped to their knees. “What? What’s wrong, Lucy? Did you hear something?” Jake demanded.

  Coop was even wilder by then, running and leaping on the back of the couch and down on the other side as he tried to paw at the vertical blinds covering the sliding glass doors. Sadie sat up on her haunches, throwing her head back and howling, an ungodly sound.

  Jake took command. “Get it together, Lucy, and call the number. I’m dialing it for you. You can do this. They said it was urgent.” Jake identified himself, and said, “Agent Lawrence, I have Miss Baker for you. Hold please.”

  Lucy dropped the phone twice before she was able to bring it to her ear. Her whole body shook from head to toe when she said, “This is Lucy Baker.”

  “Where are you, Miss Baker?”

  “What difference does that make? What is it that is so urgent?” She let her head rest against the wall as she listened, her eyes closed. Wylie and Jake both reared back when Lucy barked, “How do you know that? If you’re trying to frighten me, you are certainly succeeding! No, I haven’t heard from Jonathan. I’m not home, and I don’t have my cell phone with me. I suppose Jonathan might figure out I’d be someplace close to home, but that’s a bit of a stretch to my mind. However, he did call the day before when the storm was just beginning. He does get weather reports, and he does watch television while he’s away, so there’s a good chance he knows about our weather conditions. As you said on more than one occasion, he’s not stupid. It’s only logical for him to think I wouldn’t go far. Unless Jonathan has magical powers, how could he possibly know which house I’m in? I don’t know why the dogs are barking, Agent Lawrence. How could he possibly get to me? We have four feet of snow outside. It’s a blizzard. I thought you were FBI. If you knew it was Jonathan, then why didn’t you pick him up? How many damn times do I have to tell you, I don’t know anything about Jonathan’s activities. I don’t g
ive a damn what you think, Agent Lawrence.”

  Wylie sat down on the floor across from Lucy. She was getting mad. Good, he thought. Better she should be mad than a cowering basket case. Color was coming back to her cheeks, too. The dogs were still barking and howling.

  “Yes, we did go to the house in Watchung. My friends knew some men who have expertise in security systems. They dismantled the systems and turned them off. They don’t work now. You said it was my house. Why shouldn’t I go there? I wanted to see what I own. There was nothing in the house except some high-tech equipment. And there was a Chevy Suburban SUV in the garage, a car you never mentioned in your catalog of fancy vehicles. It was a waste of time and energy going there. Go check it out yourself. I’ll give you the code to the house alarm and there’s a card for the gate. Everything else is off. Why didn’t I call you? Why should I? The last time we spoke, you said, when you left, that you would be in touch. To me that means you were supposed to call me, not the other way around. Well, goddammit, Agent Lawrence, if you are so sure of your facts, why aren’t you here protecting me? I’m a taxpayer. Well, if you can’t get here, how do you expect Jonathan to get here? I don’t believe you, Agent Lawrence. How could Jonathan be here, and what do you mean by here? I’m not home, so where is here?”

  The trio looked at one another. Wylie thought the phone conversation was over and reached for the phone. Lucy shook her head.

  “Fine. Yes, I understand. Well, dammit, get a horse and sleigh and come and get me.” Lucy pressed the button to end the call. Jake and Wylie looked at her expectantly.