12 Bliss Street (13 page)

“I want that job,” Nicola said.

Lou took another bite of fish. “Then there was warm caramelized tart with house-made vanilla ice cream, and coffee. I was worried I might overdo it, but that night I could do no wrong. I had been planning to go see a movie but I didn’t want to get out of myself; I didn’t want to break the spell.”

“So what did you do?”

“I walked around the city. I went into a bookshop. I felt I could do anything as long as I didn’t engage in someone else’s life. I know it sounds hokey.”

“It doesn’t sound hokey.”

“It sounds completely hokey but I think that was the best night I ever spent in my life. I walked along Columbus Avenue and looked at all the stores, which of course were all closed and gated. But, see, that was the best part. I wanted nothing. For the first time I wanted nothing. I was content just to look.”

He stopped and kind of smiled a little. The surfer grin.

Nicola couldn’t help smiling back. “That’s the story?” she asked.

“That’s the story. That’s the record for the zone. And that’s when I decided I wanted to do this for a living, to get out of my uncle’s business and go after the zone in a legitimate way.”

“And you’re in the zone now?”

Lou smiled again. “Here I am,” he said.

*   *   *

It wasn’t until
they were at the coffee and dessert phase that Nicola brought up the topic of Robert.

Lou told her what he had found. Apparently Robert was from Vacaville, California, a place that literally meant cow town. Fifteen years ago Robert started buying real estate in Berkeley, then eventually moved to San Francisco and bought a few lots near the ocean. He lived alone and although he owned a lot of property he was seriously in debt.

“But that’s not unusual,” Lou told her.

“I’m sure you see it a lot.”

“It’s pretty much all I see,” he said.

There was no sign of a sister so far, but Lou had put in a few calls about that. Still, it was a lot of work for, what was it, one day? Two days if you count Sunday. Nicola was impressed.

“How did you do this so fast?”

Lou handed her a folder. “I have excellent phone skills,” he said. “And here’s something else you might find interesting.”

It was a Xerox of some legal document—a title deed. In capital letters was the name GOLDEN GATE ROOMS.

“Golden Gate Rooms?” Nicola looked at Lou. “That motel?”

“I took a look around his place the other night. How much do you know about him? Like for instance, is he a geek?”

Nicola laughed. “Robert?”

“I found lots of computer equipment in his garage.”

“You broke into his house?”

“I looked in the window. Do you want to taste this?”

He sliced off a bite of his dessert—Meyer lemon tart with sherbet—and placed it on her saucer.

“Mmm,” Nicola said. It was delicious. She took another bite. “I thought it would be cold and flaky.”

He grinned, agreeing. “No, it’s warm and melty.”

“But not at all mushy.” Nicola took another bite, then leaned back in her seat with her coffee. And looked at Lou.

She was enjoying herself. She was liking him more and more.

“I wouldn’t guess that Robert had anything to do with computers,” she said. “He’s kind of an idiot.”

“This is good for us.”

“But in truth nothing would surprise me. He’s shifty and greedy. You won’t believe the rent he charges the poor Russians who live in the main house. I’m always surprised that in all these years he’s never raised my rent. It makes me more suspicious, in fact. Like he’s lying in wait for something. He has his little plans.”

“Has he spoken to you about any of them?”

“Robert would never talk to me about anything. But there’s a way he looks at everything—you can see the little wheels turning. It’s easy to see them since they turn so slowly.”

The waiter came over with the bill.

“One computer was left on,” Lou told her, “though I didn’t see any applications running. It could be he just forgot to turn it off.”

“Or it could be an open connection,” Nicola said.

“An open connection?”

“To the Internet. Maybe he’s hosting a Web site or something. Though I can’t believe that’s true. I know a couple of kids who could find out.”

“College students?”

“High-school kids. Last weekend they kidnapped me and tied me up. Turns out they worked for Scooter.”

Lou laughed.

“You think I’m kidding,” Nicola said. She put on her coat. Outside the wind had died down but it was still chilly. A street light flickered as they passed underneath it.

“I gave them my landlord’s name and address. They’re going to search the Internet, see if they can find anything there. They work for me now.”

She felt for the top button of her coat. They walked side by side on the sidewalk, almost touching, and Nicola felt full and warm, satisfied, a little spacy. When they got to the street Lou unlocked her car door for her.

“So how did you like the meal?” he asked.

Nicola smiled. “I enjoyed it.”

“Enjoyed it as in, for instance, a second date?”

He stood with his hand on the door handle, watching her. They were on a busy downtown street, noisy but dark, and although Nicola couldn’t see Lou’s face very well still she could feel something happening, she could feel how he looked at her and she knew that all it would take from her was one step forward. Her heart seemed to squeeze in on itself. I like him, she thought. His shirt collar was bent under his coat and she felt a strong desire to put her arm up to his neck and straighten out his collar, but at the same time she knew she should wait, go slowly, figure him out, find out his secrets, assess, direct, plan this thing, whatever it is, or is it just part of the loan sharking business, the part where they kiss you then pat you and say now now now little missy? One step forward, that’s all it would take. A car slowed, then stopped, just behind them and its right blinker lit up. They had been discovered. Their parking spot had been claimed. Just a step, Nicola was thinking, one step. But instead she held her ground.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” she said.

Twelve

After Lou dropped
her off, Nicola walked down the path next to the main house toward her cottage, a small one-bedroom hidden from the street.

The path was short, constructed of crumbling octagonal stones, and unlit. Lights were on in the main house where the Russians lived, and the white December roses that grew in their yard seemed tinged with blue in the moonlight. As she passed, someone in the house drew back a curtain. A woman with a baby. Nicola held up her hand. The curtain fell back.

Inside her own house she locked the door and put on the tea kettle. It was easier not to think of Lou as a bookie, or whatever he was. She saw him as an easygoing type, a surfer, a gourmand, though he also mentioned law school. Nothing quite fit together. Her camisole strap had gotten tangled with her bra, and she was looking forward to her terrycloth robe, a silk nightshirt, or maybe nothing underneath. But first she would have tea the way she liked it, steeped for three and a half minutes, then sugared. Nicola watched the clock on the microwave, then turned back for the sugar bowl. And gasped.

There was a face at the window.

“Christ,” she said, stepping back.

His eyes were dark holes and his face seemed outlined in silver, and when he saw that she saw him, he knocked sharply on the glass. Nicola took another step away, thinking about phone cords and other household weapons, then she realized it was her landlord, Robert.

Her hand was on her throat. She went to the door but didn’t open it. Instead she opened the small brass peep window next to the chain and spoke through that. “What,” she said.

“Nicola, can I come in?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I want to talk to you. Can I come in for a minute?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Did you get my notice?” Robert asked.

“You know I did. I was served.”

“There’s someone I want you to meet. Can I come in? Just for a second? My sister is with me.”

Nicola stepped to the side and looked through the peep window at an angle. It was true; a small woman with long dark hair stood beside him.

“She doesn’t look anything like you,” she said.

“Just for a second,” Robert said.

Nicola closed the peep window. She felt her collarbone absently, considering options.

“It’s beginning to rain,” he complained.

She slid back the chain and opened the door. Robert stepped inside. He was wearing a baseball cap and an extra-large white T-shirt. His eyes were small and red and tired.

“See, I told you this was nice,” he said to the woman.

“What is it you want?” Nicola asked.

“Just a quick look around. This is my sister, Carmen. Carmen wants to measure the oven space. She’s thinking of getting a Viking.”

Nicola stared at him.

“I don’t believe this. You came here at ten o’clock at night to measure my oven space?” She didn’t know if she was angry or just completely astonished.

“Look at that tile. And over here, see? Leaded glass.”

“Listen, Robert, you’re going to have to wait until you get me out for this,” Nicola said.

“Let me just take two steps around,” Robert said.

She shook her head. “Oh, so I should do you a favor? First you kick out my dog, and then me.”

“When you weren’t home I waited for you, even though I have a key.”

“Because that’s the law.”

“And I’m doing everything legal,” Robert said. He opened the pantry door. “Lots of shelf space,” he pointed out.

Nicola’s face felt suddenly hot. “That’s enough,” she said.

Why had she let them in? For a moment at the door she had thought Robert was going to tell her he’d changed his mind; she could stay in her house. Or that maybe she and the sister could be roommates or something. Why didn’t she know better?

Anyway she didn’t buy the sister deal. The woman was pretty and spoke English with a faint accent. In her hand was a tape measure and Nicola noticed that her fingernails were bitten into odd, angular shapes.

Robert took off his baseball cap and pulled his fingers through his hair. His eyes looked very tired. “She has a right to know what she’s getting,” he said.

“Does she know about the ants she’s getting?”

“Well, but every house around here…” Robert began.

“And you can’t poison them because they lead the poison back to their nests and then it gets into the ground water. I never drink out of taps anymore.” She turned to Carmen and put her hand out sharply, gesturing to the wall. “Also, the whole property is built on a pond. That means landfill. If there’s an earthquake, this sinks.”

“How do you know this?” Robert asked. He rested his hand on the chipped tile countertop, claiming ownership.

“Survey maps. But before the house sinks, the walls will collapse. That’s the real worry, getting out in time.”

“You mean you could be buried alive?” Carmen asked.

“Carmen,” Robert warned.

“But you know all this, Robert,” Nicola continued. She turned away from him, hiding her face. And started to fish. “You own a lot of property around here. You own the house in front.”

“Yes I do,” Robert said.

“And other places over the years. A few buildings along the beach. A duplex in Parkside. Oh, and something by the wharf, what was it, the Golden Gate Rooms?”

Robert looked at her quickly. “How do you know all this?” he asked.

“Well it’s a matter of public record. You have to know where to look, sure, but anyone can find it.”

“Public record?” Robert repeated. He fidgeted with his watch strap, then dropped it on the floor. Carmen picked it up for him.

“We’ve got to go,” Robert said suddenly. “Come on, Carmen. I need to … you should get back to that place.” They left abruptly without saying good-bye. Robert seemed shaken.

Nicola closed the door behind them. Her tea was now cold and she tipped it out over the sink as she listened for the sound of footsteps on the stone path. After a moment a single foghorn sounded distantly, to the north.

Now what was that about, she wondered?

Thirteen

The next morning
the phone began ringing when the light was still unevenly gray. Nicola had been dreaming—something about handcuffs. But was she in the handcuffs, or was somebody else?

She had to clear her throat twice. “Hello,” she said finally.

“Guess who’s here.”

“Audrey?”

“Guess who’s here at my house.”

“Oh God, Audrey,” Nicola said. She tried to focus on the clock. “By tradition, shouldn’t I tell you what time it is?”

“One guess.”

“Someone I used to be married to?”

“I came downstairs and there he was on my couch. When I went through his pockets, there wasn’t even a pause in his snoring.”

“You looked through his pockets?”

“For my key.”

“I didn’t know he had your key.”

“It was news to me, too,” Audrey told her. Nicola laughed. “So, can you come over? Because Lester’s kind of under the couch.”

An hour later Nicola was standing at Audrey’s door carrying cardboard cups of coffee and a bag of croissants. The morning was still dark. Audrey and Declan lived across the street from the ocean, near a block of project housing. Someone had hung kites, five or six of them, from the drainpipes of the house next door. The wind looped them sideways. Soon it would probably rain.

“Hey,” someone said behind her.

Nicola turned. It was Dave, walking up the driveway wearing an army cap and an oversized sheepskin-like coat. But what was he doing here? And at only—Nicola looked at her watch—seven in the morning?

“What’s up?” she asked.

Dave looked around kind of awkwardly. “Scooter told me to come. I called him this morning. I found something,” he said.

That was fast, Nicola thought. “That’s great,” she said, trying not to sound surprised. She rang the doorbell again.

“Well, he’s up,” Audrey announced when she answered.

“Is it noon already?” Nicola asked.

“I heard that,” Scooter said from the living room.