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Different smells on the third floor. Someone was cooking cabbage, and it covered anything tasty that anyone else was making. Apartment 302 was down almost at the end of the hall, just past a boarded-up broom closet. As he passed 300, he heard a creaking behind the door. Rakkim stopped. He stayed where he was, watching the peephole, and saw the shadow under the door shift as someone moved back into the room. Rakkim moved on to 302, and there was another smell now. Worse than cabbage. The door was locked, but one of the hinges had been twisted, and Rakkim did what the last visitor had done. He gave it a push, and the bolt, which barely made contact with the frame, gave way. He stepped into the room. The windows were wide-open. It helped, but not much.
Sarah had been here. Her clothes were strewn around the floor, a sunflower-yellow dress she had worn to one of their assignations. A spring dress, though spring was over a month away. A sign of her confidence then. He took pleasure in the destruction in the room, furniture overturned, cabinets kicked in, the refrigerator pushed over. Good to see the wreckage, the rage of the search-it meant that they hadn’t found her. A search of the room would give him nothing, but he searched it anyway. She had left nothing of value behind, nothing that would point to where she had gone. More of Redbeard’s lessons.
Back in the hall, he closed the front door and started for the stairs. Another creak from 300. He knocked. No answer. Knocked again. “Open up or I’ll knock the door down.”
A muffled voice. “Who are you, the big bad wolf?”
Rakkim laughed. “Just open the door.”
The door opened slightly. An old man in a striped bathrobe peered through the gap between the door and the jamb allowed by the security chain. He had three days’ growth of gray stubble.
“The woman who lived next door was a friend of mine.”
“Lucky you.”
“She had to walk past your door to reach the stairs. I think you saw her every time she left. Every time she came back too. I don’t think you miss much.”
“I don’t want trouble, mister.”
“My name is Rakkim.”
“He
“Could you let me in, Mr. He
“I heard that before.” He
Rakkim closed the door behind him. The carpet was worn in front of the door where the old man had been keeping his vigil on the hallway for a couple hundred years. The wall screen in front of the sofa had been torn down, the screen shattered.
He
Rakkim saw the shell of He
He
“They would have found something else to use. Something worse. People like that…they always reach for the first thing at hand.”
He
“I don’t believe you, Mr. He
He
“I love her, Mr. He
“That ain’t none of my business.”
Rakkim shook his head. “It may not be your business, but you took it on. That’s the kind of man you are. You’re not the only one who can see things about people.”
He
Rakkim let him talk.
“I played dumb with the other ones. Told them my hearing was shot, but I got good ears.” He
“Was she hurt?”
“I heard her fighting back. I heard her, and I didn’t do a thing.”
“Was she injured, Mr. He
“I didn’t see any blood on her.” He
Rakkim covered the man’s hand with his own. He
“I saw her walk past my door. She was in a hurry too. Who could blame her?”
“Yes, but how could you see that there was no blood on her? Walking past your peephole…hurrying?”
He
“Maybe this is your time to be brave. Maybe you’re getting a second chance.”
“I followed her,” He
“Where did she go?”
“Monorail.” He
“What stop did she get off at?”
“Yeah, just the facts, right?”
Rakkim met his gaze. “Right.”
“That’s okay. I’m glad you’re not trying to bullshit me.” He
“Where did she go in the Zone?” Rakkim already knew the answer, but he had to ask.
“Some nightclub. Bright lights and loud music…I used to be quite a dancer when I was young. Trying to remember the name. Blue Moon, that’s it. There used to be a song called that. My father sang it to my mother when I was a boy. Long time…what’s the matter with you?”
“Did you follow her inside?”
“She didn’t stay long. I saw her get into a cab and that was that.”