Thirty-nine
Bertha awakened sometime during the night to the
sound of footsteps creaking down the staircase between the ground and
second floor. The door to Craig’s apartment directly above the basement
apartment groaned open.
Francis had assigned her the task of guarding the
secret passages of the building, but nobody, Bertha decided, was guarding
the guardian. Overpowered by curiosity, she rolled out of bed. Gabby
grunted in his sleep, oblivious to the shuffling of her slippers on the
wood floor of the spaces between the walls.
She reached the back of the mirror in Evelyn’s
apartment in time to see Craig sinking into Evelyn’s arms. She had only a
narrow view through the partially closed bathroom door, but a table lamp
in the bedroom illuminated a swath of bare flesh rocking quietly to the
rhythm of lovemaking.
“Naughty girl,” she whispered. She’d keep Evelyn’s
early morning sojourn quiet as long as the two weren’t causing a problem.
Quiet as the mice scurrying about her feet, she returned to the basement
apartment and pulled down the cover to slip back into bed.
“Addicting, isn’t it?” Gabby murmured.
“Gabby, I don’t watch for the fun of it.”
“You’re worried they’ll cause trouble?”
“Craig’s not her type. She’s using him, setting him
up for something. Evelyn doesn’t confide in anyone, and she doesn’t like
John. She makes me nervous.”
“She’s afraid of Cantrell,” Gabby said. “I don’t
know what the kid sees in him.”
“Jennifer? You don’t know her like I do. They’re a
perfect match.”
“Scary thought. Take it from an old man and a
resolute coward. I’ll stand behind Cantrell any day. He’s a snake, as
nasty and dangerous as they come, but snakes are predictable. Show them
due respect and they don’t bite.”
“He’s only helping because of Jennifer,” Bertha
said. “Evelyn had better not cause a problem. Maybe Francis is right
about being afraid we’ll blame Evelyn for Cathy and the others getting killed,
because I’m thinking myself that’s she’s done enough harm already. I
think she knows why someone wants to hurt her. She's never entirely freaked out over anything that’s happened. She’s just her usual too quiet
self.”
“Interesting situation,” Gabby growled.
Bertha rolled against him, mildly aroused by Evelyn
and Craig going to it so enthusiastically and sometimes wishing Gabby was
a bit younger and quicker on the trigger.
Gabby pawed her affectionately in the darkness.
Bertha draped her arms about his neck. “How have you been holding up,
Gabby? Any of this mess getting to you yet?”
“Christ, little girl, I’m having the time of my
life.”
“Not me,” Bertha said. “When this is over, I’m going
to get me my GED and go to secretarial school and become a medical
transcriptionist, because I’ve had enough excitement to last for the rest
of my life.”
Gabby chuckled. “You, a secretary? Nah! You need
yourself a young stud and diapers to change. Life ain’t about nothing
else.”
“I got you Gabby. I don’t need a young stud.”
“Yeah, you do. Don’t you dare let me make a baby.
I’d be dead before it could grow up. I don’t want to have to die knowing
that.”
Bertha was hurt. “Do you really feel that way?”
“You gotta see things from my perspective. You have
a future. The only future I’ve got is six feet beneath a tombstone. I live life by the grazing principle these
days, moving from one patch of green grass to another, and I do it walking
backward, my eye on how things happening now are connected to the past.
There’s no future for me.”
“A godfather, then.”
Gabby chuckled in delight. “I’ll settle for
grandpa. Just don’t jump up and run away too quick like. I’m gonna need
time to figure out how to live without you.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Bertha said. “You said so
yourself. I’m young. I got all the time in the world.”
Bertha thought Gabby had fallen asleep when he
murmured one last comment.
“Don’t we all wish.”
