Make Room! Make Room!

“Don’t break it down,” she said as she opened it. “I was cleaning and I didn’t hear the door.” Her hair was tied up in a turban and her feet were bare. A lot of her was bare since she was wearing just a pale green halter and shorts. She looked wonderful.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” he said seriously.

“Well, it’s not very important,” she laughed, “don’t look so sad.” She leaned forward and gave him a quick warm kiss on the mouth. Before he could react she had turned away and gone down the hall. The shorts were very short, and very, very round. As the door clicked behind him he realized suddenly that he was quite happy. The air was wonderfully cool.

“I’m almost finished,” Shirl said, and there was the sudden whine of a small motor. “It’ll just take me a second then I’ll clean this mess away.” When he came into the living room he saw that she was ru

A shower! he thought excitedly. “Since I’ve met Mary Haggerty I’ll be glad to send her the bill,” he shouted, and they both laughed.

As he went through the bedroom he remembered that this was the room where O’Brien had been killed — he hadn’t thought about that at all last night. Poor O’Brien, he must have been a real bastard while he was still alive, since there didn’t seem to be a single person who missed him or really felt moved by his death. Including Shirl. What had she thought about him? It didn’t matter now. He dropped his clothes on the floor and tested the water with his hand.

There was a razor with a new blade in the cabinet and he hummed happily to himself while he washed the gray whiskers out of it, then lathered his face. For some reason wearing a dead man’s shoes didn’t bother him in the least. In fact he greatly enjoyed it. The razor slid smoothly over his skin.

All the cleaning apparatus had vanished by the time he had dressed and gone into the living room again, and Shirl had her hair down and what looked like fresh makeup on. Though she was still wearing the shorts and top, for which he breathed a silent thanks. He had never seen a prettier — no, a more beautiful girl in his whole life. He wished he could tell her that, but it wasn’t the kind of thing he found it easy to say aloud.

“How about something cold to drink?” she asked.

“I’m supposed to be working — are you trying to corrupt me?”

“You can have a beer, I put some in the fridge. There are almost twenty bottles to finish and I don’t really like it.” She turned in the doorway and smiled. “Besides, you are working. You’re interviewing me. Aren’t I an important witness?”

The first sip of the cold beer cut a track of pleasure down his throat. Shirl sat down across from him and sipped at a cold kofee. “How is the case going, or is that an official secret?”

“Nothing secret, it goes slow like all cases. You shouldn’t let the TV fool you, police work isn’t at all like that. It’s mostly dull stuff, a lot of walking around, making notes, writing reports — and hoping a stoolie will bring you the answer.”

“I know what that is — a stool pigeon! There aren’t really stool pigeons, are there?”

“If there weren’t we would be out of business. Most of our pinches are made on tips from stoolies. Most crooks are stupid and have big mouths and when they start talking there is usually someone around to listen. I hope someone talks this time — because it looks like a next to impossible case if they don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

He sipped some more beer; it was wonderful stuff. “There are over thirty-five million people in this town, and any one of them could have done it. I’ll start ru

“You sound sort of bitter.”

“You’re right — I am. Wouldn’t you be if you had a job you wanted to do, and liked doing, yet you were never allowed to do? We’re over our heads with work and have been ever since I came on the force. Nothing is ever finished, no cases are ever followed up, people really do get away with murder every day and no one seems to mind. Unless there is some kind of political reason, like with Big Mike, and then no one really cares about him, it’s just their own hides that they are worrying about.”

“Couldn’t they just hire some more policemen?”

“With what? There’s no money in the city budget, almost all of it goes for Welfare. So our pay is low, cops take bribes, and — you don’t want to hear a lecture about my troubles!” He drained the rest of the beer from the glass and she jumped to her feet.

“Here, let me get another.”

“No, thanks, not on an empty stomach.”

“Haven’t you eaten at all?”

“Grabbed a piece of weedcracker. I didn’t have time for anything more.”

“I’ll fix us some lunch. How about beefsteak?”

“Shirl, stop it — you’ll give me heart failure.”

“No, I mean it. I bought a steak for Mike, the other morning of… that day. It’s still in the freezer.”

“I can’t remember the last time I had beef — in fact it has been a long time since I have seen a piece of soylent.” He stood and took both of her hands. “You’re taking very good care of me, you know?”

“I like to,” she said, and gave him another of those quick kisses. His hands were on the roundness of her hips when she turned and walked away.

She’s a fu

Shirl wanted to eat in the living room at the big table, but there was a table built into the kitchen, under the window, and Andy could see no reason why they couldn’t sit right there. It was a steak all right, a monster piece of meat as big as his hand, and he felt the saliva flow in his mouth when she slid it onto his plate.

“Fifty-fifty,” he said, slicing it in half and putting one piece on the other plate.

“I usually just fry some oatmeal in the juices…”

“We’ll have that for dessert. This is the start of a new era, equal rights for men and women.” She smiled at him and slid into her chair without another word. Damn, he thought, for another look like that I’d give her the whole thing.

There was seacress with it, weedcrackers to sop up the gravy and another bottle of cold beer from which she allowed him to pour her a small glass. The meat was indescribably good and he cut it into very small pieces, savoring each one slowly. He could not remember having eaten as well in his entire life. When he had finished he sat back and sighed with contentment. It was good, yet it was almost too good, and he knew it wouldn’t last: he felt a little gnaw of irritation as the words dead man’s shoes flicked through his mind.

“I hope you didn’t mind, but I was more than a little drunk last night.” It sounded crude and he was sorry the instant he had said it.

“I didn’t mind at all. I thought you were very sweet.”

“Sweet!” He laughed at himself. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but never that before. I thought you were angry at me ever since I came back.”

“I’ve been busy, that’s all, the place was a mess and you were hungry. I think I know what yon need.”

She moved swiftly around the table and was on his lap, the whole womanly warm length of her and her arms were around his neck. It was a kiss, the kind he remembered, and he discovered that her halter was closed on the front by two buttons which he opened and pressed his face against the smooth fragrance of her skin.

“Let’s go inside,” she said huskily.