Sharing Space (The Complete Series) (10 page)

"No, what is it?” Chloe looked up and took the notice I handed her. Her eyes scanned it quickly.  "Can you stay home that day?” she asked. "Because I don't think I can.  As a matter of fact, I know I can't. I'm bogged down at work."

"It shouldn't be a problem,” I told her. "I'll check my schedule, but I think I can swing it."

The notice stated that the next week an intercom system would be installed in the building.  Visitors would have to be buzzed into the building after announcing themselves via the intercom. The installation would take two full days and someone had to be home one of those days so the electricians could access the apartment.

"I wonder why Mr. Tucci can't let them into each apartment. He has pass keys."

"Sounds like they'll be doing more than one apartment at a time. Besides, would you want someone in here working when we're not home?" I asked.

"Good point."

I rose and headed towards the kitchen. "What I want to know is, why the sudden desire to secure the building?” I called from the kitchen where I grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and noticed several pots steaming on the stove. My stomach churned.

"It smells good in there.” I said, coming back into the living room.

"Thanks.” Chloe placed her Kindle on the coffee table. "Then you haven't heard?"

“Heard what?" I made myself comfortable on the easy chair.

"A woman who lives three buildings down was mugged in her lobby last week."

"Damn!  Was she hurt?"

"Yeah, the guy roughed her up pretty bad. I'm glad Mr. Tucci has come to his senses. This should have been done a long time ago. I hate going down to that laundry room even when it's daytime."

"No kidding. I'm surprised it took something like this to have him do anything about the security. He seems like a pretty nice guy."

"Hmmm, it wasn't always this way. Before Mr. Tucci, his brother Johnny owned the building.  Their father left it to him. Johnny wasn't too pleased with the fact that the building was rent controlled and, to make more money, he wanted to renovate the building, turning each apartment into two smaller apartments. This was a few years ago when everyone wanted to move to this area. Of course, for his plan to work he had to get rid of the people already living here and, when they wouldn't budge, he started doing things like forgetting to turn on the heat when the law says or letting the garbage pile up in the back, stinking up the place."

"Nice. So what happened?"

"Thankfully, he was found floating in the Hudson.” Chloe noticed the funny look on my face and quickly explained. “I meant, thankfully for us he's no longer the landlord."

"Uh huh." We smiled at each other and I realized that it was probably the first time we'd sat in the living room together conversing for more than five minutes. It was nice.

"That reminds me of a story,” I said, taking a drink of water. "This happened in my brother's friend's building in The Village. It was a building similar to this one with two glass front doors and the intercom system to each apartment. You could get in the first door without a key, but in the vestibule you had to be buzzed in to get any further. So anyway, this girl was doing her laundry in the basement, walking back and forth from her third floor apartment. One time she's in her place when the buzzer goes off and the guy on the other end says, 'pizza.’  That's it, nothing else, just 'pizza.’”

I could see I really had Chloe's attention, so I continued. "Thinking the delivery guy must have gotten the wrong apartment, she buzzed him in and went about her business.  About a half an hour later she goes to the laundry room to pick up her clothes. Two hours later her roommate comes home and finds the apartment empty. The door was unlocked, the radio was playing, but no roommate. She goes into the girl's room and finds her clothes all over. You know, clean clothes folded on the bed, dirty ones sorted in piles on the floor, so she figures she must have run down to the laundry room."

"Uh huh,” said Chloe, totally into it.

"Another hour goes by and her roommate gets worried, you know? Thinking maybe she's down there reading or something, she takes a trip down to the basement." I pause for effect and take a long drink from the water bottle.

"And?" Chloe is now sitting forward on the couch, watching me intently.

"And she finds a big pool of blood on the floor and from that pool of blood there's a trail. Like someone was dragged through it, you know? It leads to one of the running dryers and there's this awful sound coming from it, like when you put sneakers in. She walks slowly to it, careful not to step in any blood, and opens the dryer door. And there she finds her roommate's body parts cut up and rolling around in the dryer."

Chloe gasped. "No!"

"Yes. She runs up to their apartment and calls the police. They arrive and find the roommate’s head in a washing machine. Turns out the guy was caught six months later on a totally unrelated crime and, in a moment of I don’t know what, confessed to the murder. Said he'd been watching her for weeks, figured out which apartment she lived in and pretended to be a pizza guy to get in the building.  When she buzzed him in he just waited in the basement till she came down again. He'd been watching her through the glass door in the hall. I guess the point of my story is that the intercoms are only as good as the people using them."

"Shit. That’s awful. I can’t believe it.”

"Well. You shouldn’t."

"You're lying?” Chloe squinted at me.

"I am."

Chloe tossed a pillow at my head. I caught it easily and rested it in my lap.  I had tears in my eyes from laughing so hard. Chloe was trying to be mad, but laughter won over.

"I'm glad you think it's funny. I can never go in that basement again."

"Well now I bet you'll think twice before buzzing in a stranger."

"Oh, so that story was for my own good, huh?  Not to scare the shit out of me and give you a good laugh?"

"Well, that too." 

My cell phone rang and I glanced at the screen while wiping the tears from my eyes. The display read ‘Mom.’ Picking up my phone from the end table I answered, still laughing. “Hey, Mom.”

"I must have the wrong number,” said the woman on the other end.

I pulled the phone away from my face and looked at the screen. It still read ‘Mom,’ but the number underneath was a 919 area code. Not my mom. I noticed that it was also not my phone. I put it to my ear.

“No, you don’t. I just picked up the wrong phone. One sec.”

I leaned forward to offer Chloe the phone. She looked at it like I was trying to hand her a dead cat. She looked from my outstretched hand to my cell phone still sitting on the end table and back again, quickly piecing together what had just occurred. She took her phone and spoke into it.

"Hello?” Her voice was shaky and I noticed her hand was too. "Hi, Mom. That's Patrick.  My roommate."

I went into my bedroom where I could still hear bits and pieces of Chloe's muffled conversation. It didn’t seem to be going well. After about twenty minutes there was a knock at the door.

"Come in,” I called. 

Chloe entered with her phone in her hand and a sour look on her face. "Thanks a lot."

"What did I do?” I asked and sat down on my bed. Chloe leaned against the door jam, arms crossed under her breasts.

"You answered my phone.”

"I thought it was mine. In case you hadn’t noticed, we have the same phone."

"That was the absolute last thing I needed right now."

"She didn’t know I lived here." No need for me to ask, I was just stating a fact.

"No. I was waiting for the right time to tell her you moved in. I knew she'd have something to say, that she'd be worried, and I didn't want her to find out like this. And then you go and answer the damn phone."

"Whoa.” I stood. "It was an honest mistake. Yes, you’ve been acting weird, but I thought it was because maybe you’d gotten back with your boyfriend or something and I know he doesn’t like me living here—”

Chloe cut me off. "He's not my boyfriend."

"Fine. Seriously, I see you’re upset and I’m sorry, but—”

Chloe shook her head and looked at the floor. "You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s just embarrassing, actually. For as long as I can remember I've always tried to avoid confrontations with my mother. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped in your ass like that.”

"Apology accepted for… jumping in my ass.”

"Well, to really make it up to you, why don't you join me for dinner? I've made too much for just me and it'll go to waste if you don’t.”

"I thought you'd never ask."

Later, after a delicious dinner of garlic-roasted chicken, steamed vegetables, and buttery rolls, Chloe and I shared a bottle of wine in the living room. I had my iPod plugged into the docking station and the sounds of my favorite jazz filled the apartment.

"Thanks again for dinner. I haven't had a meal that good in a long time."

"It won't happen that often. I rarely get the time to cook those kinds of meals."

"Well, the next one's on me."

Chloe laughed and took a sip of her wine. "Oh, really?"

"Don’t look so surprised. It may not be quite as good as what we just had, but it won't make you sick."

"What a solid endorsement,” Chloe replied, rolling her eyes.

We hadn't discussed the evening's earlier events over dinner and I didn't want to spoil the mood we had going, but I had to know. "So, what was the outcome of the conversation with your mother?"

Chloe set her glass on a coaster and sighed deeply. "She was not happy, but please don't take it personally. She's a worrier by nature, retired NYPD detective. Everyone's suspicious."

I let out a whistle.

"Yeah, so you can just imagine. She knows that I can take care of myself, but it doesn't stop the detective in her from wanting to run everyone's name through a computer, especially men in my life. You've never been arrested, have you?"

"Nope, I'm clean. For the most part.” I winked and we smiled at each other as I poured another glass of wine. Chloe stretched out on the sofa and yawned.

"I guess I'm keeping you up, huh?"

"No, that's okay. I'm fine. I was just wondering what it's going to be like when my mother comes for her Thanksgiving visit. Be prepared for a third degree. I'll be prepared for embarrassment."

"She’s that bad?”

Chloe laughed. "And then some. On the force she was the master of getting confessions. By the time she was through with them she had perps confessing everything from homicides to swiping the loose change off their mothers' dressers when they were ten."

Her choice of words caused me to smile. "Listen to you. Perps?" 

"Oops,” she replied with a sheepish smile.

"Yeah, remember you're talking to a civilian."

"I'd imagine that growing up with a firefighter for a father is not so different than growing up with a cop for a mom.” Chloe rolled onto her stomach and looked at me. She looked sexy in her gray shorts and white t-shirt. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and lying like she was made her look all of eighteen years old. With some difficulty I tried to focus on the conversation and decided that I had just had my last glass of wine for the evening.

"I don't think we realized how dangerous our father’s job was until we were older. When you're young you look at it like being a superhero. We thought he was invincible."