Fake I.D.

Thirteen

“Tommy? I didn’t wake you, did I?”

The voice sounded like somebody I knew, but I was so spaced it took a second or two before I matched it with a name—Debbie O’Reilley.

“No,” I said, wondering why the hell I didn’t just let my answering machine pick up. “What’s going on?”

“I should be asking you that question. I’ve been trying to hunt you down for two days now. Either you’ve been screening your calls or you went away without telling me. Either way I’m very upset with you.”

As usual, she sounded drunk.

“I was in Vegas,” I said.

“Vegas? Las Vegas?”

“You calling me for any reason, because I was about to go to sleep.”

“Sleep? Don’t you have to work tonight?”

Shit, I forgot all about work. There was no way in hell I was going in feeling like this.

“I’m calling in sick,” I said.

“Really? Well, that’s convenient—and timely too. Because I’m feeling kind of lonely and I was hoping I could come over to visit.”

“What’s that?”

“I said I want to come over to your place.”

“Here?”

“Why not? You’re not trying to avoid me, are you?”

I was starting to fall asleep again.

“Look, I really gotta hang up now.”

“I’m coming over—I just got your address from Information.”

“Don’t come here,” I said, waking up. “I’m serious.”

“Why? You’re too tired? It’s all right—I’ll take a nap with you.”

“Wait,” I said. I remembered that Frank had hired a detective.

“Don’t come here,” I said. “That’s a shitty idea.”

“Don’t you want to see me again?” she said, trying to sound sexy.

“It’s just not a good time right now,” I said. “Trust me, all right?”

“I really want to see you again, Tommy. I don’t know what I did to upset you so much, but I promise I won’t do it again.”

“Maybe some other time,” I said. “I’m really not feeling too good right now.”

“Poor thing,” she said. “Are you sick? Should I bring you over some chicken soup?”

“No, the thing is there’s a detective watching you,” I said. “Frank told me about it the other day—”

“Oh, that’s why you’re so worried. You don’t have to worry about that, darling. That slob was following me around all day yesterday and I had no problem losing him. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll be right there.”

“Come on, Debbie, don’t—”

She hung up. I said “hello” a couple of times then I put the receiver down, still feeling dazed. I closed my eyes, trying to go back to Hollywood Park, but I must’ve fallen asleep without dreaming because it seemed like a second later the buzzer was ringing. I got up to answer it, forgetting where I was. Then I heard Debbie’s voice on the intercom. Now I was really getting pissed off. Why the hell couldn’t she take no for an answer?

I buzzed her up, hoping the detective didn’t follow her. No matter what, I was going to tell her to get the hell away from me and to stay away.

She was wearing a fur coat and black boots. Her fake blond hair was done up like Ivana Trump and she had a load of makeup on. She looked better than she did the other day at her apartment, but she still disgusted me.

I noticed she was holding a white plastic shopping bag.

“It was quite a climb to get up here,” she said. “I can’t believe people actually live in these buildings.”

She moved in to kiss me with her glossy lips and I was too tired to turn my head. I picked up the Scotch odor right away. Then she backed away, making a face like she just stepped into a big pile of dog shit.

“What’s that smell?”

“Me,” I said.

“My God, you’re filthy...what happened to you?”

“I told you, I was in Vegas.”

“Don’t they have showers in Las Vegas?”

“Why did you have to come over here?” I said. “Why couldn’t you listen to me?”

“Because I was lonely and I wanted to see you. Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“This was really stupid,” I said. “If that detective—”

“You don’t have to worry about him,” she said. “I saw that slob following me again when I left my building. I found a police officer on the corner and told him that a man was following me, then I got in a cab and came over here. Oh, but first I stopped at a Chinese restaurant and bought you a couple of containers of hot-and-sour soup. It always does wonders for me when I feel a cold coming on.”

“How do you know he didn’t follow you out of the restaurant?” I said. “Maybe you just didn’t see him.”

“My God, will you stop being so paranoid? The way you’re talking you’d think you did have something to hide.”

She passed by me and went toward the kitchen counter. I closed the door and bolted it.

“I hate to be so blunt,” she said, “but you really could use a shower and a maid.”

“If you don’t like the way I smell, there’s the door.”

She thought about it a second then said, “No, actually I’m starting to like the way you smell. You smell raw. It kind of turns me on.” She put the shopping bag down on the counter. “Now I have a surprise for you so close your eyes.”

I just stood there.

“You’re no fun. Come on, play the game.”

I crossed my arms in front of my chest.

“All right, but it won’t be nearly as shocking.”

She opened her coat and, except for her shiny black boots, she was buck naked.

“Get out of here,” I said. I was looking away, trying not to see any more. “I’m serious.”

“Well, that wasn’t exactly the response I was expecting.”

She came up to me and put her arms around my waist, rubbing against me, then she kissed me on the lips. I pushed her away.

“Just put your coat on and get out of here.”

She took a few steps back. She was shaking a little bit too, maybe because she was so drunk.

“I only came here because I thought you wanted to see me,” she said. “Because I thought we—”

“Look, whatever happened the other day, let’s just forget about it, all right?”

“What’s the matter, you didn’t have a good time?”

“No.”

“I don’t think this is any way for you to treat your future wife.”

“Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Frank wants a divorce. He wanted to make an out-of-court settlement with me. At first, I was thinking about trying to milk him for all he was worth, but now I’m thinking about just accepting it. He said something about how he wants to move to Arizona, open a bar there. If I accept the settlement I’ll get the apartment and enough money to live on comfortably, or for us to live on comfortably.”

“How the hell did you get the idea I’d want to marry you?” I said.

“Why wouldn’t you? Not only would you be getting a woman who’d pleasure you like no woman could, but with Frank’s money you’d never have to work again.”

I started to laugh. I couldn’t help it—it was just so damn funny.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Believe me,” I said, “if you were me, you’d be laughing too.”

“I really don’t think you should be treating me this way. I might leave here very angry at you and then there’s no telling what I might do. Maybe I’ll just tell everybody about your dirty little secret.”

“What do you mean?”

I wasn’t laughing anymore.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said.

“I saw you the other night—stealing that money.”

I stared at her, trying to figure out if she was lying.

“I think you’re drunk and you should go home,” I said.

“I was on my way to the bar to look for Frank and I saw you,” she said, “walking home with that garbage bag. I was wondering why you were taking garbage home from work with you, but the next day it all made sense.”

“You’re full of shit,” I said, but I knew she was telling the truth. There was no other way she could’ve known about the garbage bag unless Rodrigo had told her, and I didn’t see why he would have.

“It’s too bad,” she said. “We could’ve had a good life together.”

“You’re wrong,” I said. “I didn’t take that money.”

“Oh really? Then what’s that?”

She was looking toward the kitchen table where the money left over from the robbery—five hundred dollars, in twenties and fifties—was spread out.

“I bet you gambled the rest of it away in Las Vegas,” she said.

She was buttoning up her coat.

“Where are you going?”

“Where do you think I’m going? Obviously, you don’t want me here.”

“Hold up a second,” I said. “Come on—stay. I was just so tired from my trip I didn’t know what I was saying before.”

“I think you’re lying.”

“I’m serious,” I said. I opened the buttons of her coat and pulled her toward me. I smelled the Scotch on her breath. “I don’t want you to go—I’m glad you’re here. Why wouldn’t I be glad? You just can’t believe the shit I’ve been through the past couple days. Driving back from the airport I thought I was gonna pass out at the wheel. Come on, stay. I want you here. That’s the real truth.”

I kissed her hard, swirling my tongue around in her one-hundred-proof mouth.

After a while I pulled back and said, “So what do you say?”

“I don’t know. A second ago you sounded like you were really mad at me, like you hated me—”

“Forget about that. I’m telling you, I really didn’t know what the hell I was saying. If you wanna know the truth, I was pretty excited when I heard you and Frank were splitting up. I’m tired of being single, struggling, waking up alone every day. I’m getting to the age where I want to settle down.”

She held onto the edge of the table, trying to keep her balance.

“You know what I think?” she said. “I think you’re just saying all this to shut me up because you’re afraid I’m gonna call the police.”

“No, I’m saying this because I want you to get into bed with me.”

I took off her coat completely and let it fall onto the floor. I started kissing her again.

“Tommy, can I ask you one more thing?”

“Shoot,” I said.

“Before, when you laughed about us getting married, you didn’t really—”

“Of course not,” I said.

“—because I didn’t mean it the way I sounded. I guess I’ve just been drinking and...I mean that’s what I’d like to happen someday, but it doesn’t mean it has to happen right away...I mean we can let it happen naturally and—”

“Forget about it,” I said.

She smiled.

I kissed her some more, then she said, “Do you have anything to drink in this apartment?”

“There’s beer in the fridge,” I said. “Help yourself.”

While she went to get a beer, I went into the bathroom. Standing over the bowl, I felt like the floor was moving and I had to hold on to the shower door to keep my balance. Then I caught another whiff of myself. I smelled so bad I didn’t know how Debbie could stand to be in the same room with me.

When I came out of the bathroom, Debbie had pulled open the couch. She was lying on her back naked. I turned out the light. It wasn’t totally dark outside yet so I could still see the outline of her body. I didn’t know how I was going to go through with this. I got into bed and climbed on top of her. I was holding her down with my arms, taking it nice and slow at first, then speeding up. She started to moan and then I decided to just get it over with. I picked up a pillow and pressed it down over her face. She fought back awhile, kicking and swinging her arms like a maniac, but I kept pushing down. Finally, she stopped squirming.

I turned on the light and lifted the pillow slowly. Her mouth was halfway open and her glassy brown eyes were looking at the ceiling.

I got out of bed quickly. I started pacing my apartment, deciding what to do next. I knew I had to figure out a way to get rid of her body. It was probably stupid to put that pillow over her face without thinking it through first, but what choice did I have?

Sitting down again, I started to doze off next to her and I knew this was a bad idea. I couldn’t go to sleep now—what if Debbie was wrong and that detective had followed her to my apartment? He could be outside right now, waiting for her to leave.

I stood up out of bed and went to the kitchen sink and splashed my face with ice-cold water. Then I leaned out the window, looking for the detective. But I just saw a couple of people, on their way home from work, and a black guy across the street, looking in garbage cans.

I had to come up with a plan. I was shooting blanks, then, thinking harder, I decided that I had to get the body into my car somehow and dump it someplace outside of Manhattan. But there was no way I could do that now, with so many people around. I’d have to wait until the middle of the night—midnight at least. In the meantime, I’d just have to hope that detective wasn’t watching me.

It was twenty past five. I decided to go into work tonight after all. I had to act like it was a normal night. If the cops came around asking questions I’d have to be able to explain where I was all night. Besides, I knew that if I went to sleep now there was no way I was getting up in a few hours.

I took a shower. It felt good, getting clean again, but I was afraid I was going to pass out and I held onto the soap rack the whole time.

It seemed like a bad idea to leave the body just lying there, so I covered it with a blanket and then I piled up the couch cushions on top.

I finished getting ready for work, putting on my usual jeans, black crew-neck, and motorcycle boots, but I missed my gold barbell chain. I realized I was starving and then I saw the two containers of hot-and-sour soup that Debbie had brought over for me. I drank the lukewarm soup straight from the containers, then I put on my leather coat and left the apartment.

Outside my building, I looked around, but there didn’t seem to be anybody watching me. There were still some flurries coming down, but the snow was pretty much gone from the sidewalks. It was getting cold again—the wind whipping down First Avenue like a motherfucker—and I missed the eighty or whatever the hell degrees it was in Las Vegas.

I was glad it was a Wednesday night and the weather was bad because the last thing I felt like doing tonight was checking a lot of IDs. Gary was supposed to work tonight, but Gil was behind the bar, so I figured Gary was still pissed off at Frank or maybe he had quit for good.

“Hey,” I said to Gil.

“How’s it going, Tommy?”

Gil didn’t look up from his book when he was talking to me. There were about ten people in the bar and a reggae CD was playing on the stereo.

“Frank around?” I asked.

“He went out for a second. He’ll be right back.”

I went to hang up my coat. Kathy came by with a tray of mozzarella sticks.

“Hey, how’s it going, Kath?”

“Fine,” she said, walking past me.

I was still hungry, but I didn’t feel like dealing with Rodrigo in the kitchen. I figured I’d just order a pizza or something later on. When I came back out front, Frank was just coming into the bar.

“What’s this?” he said. “You growing a beard?”

“Maybe,” I said. “Like it?”

“It’s okay.” He looked at me closer. “You feeling okay?”

“I just didn’t get too much sleep last night.”

“It’s gonna be a slow night. If you want, you can go home. Gil’s gonna take off soon, but Kathy can cover the bar.”

“It’s all right,” I said.

Frank went to the back. The room was starting to spin and I felt like I was going to pass out for real. Without my coat on, I jogged down the block to the Korean deli. I bought a large coffee, a couple of those little carrot cakes, two Snickers bars, and two packs of Starburst. I figured that filling myself up with sugar and caffeine might be the only thing to keep me awake.

When I got back to the bar Frank was sitting at a table across from a fat man with curly brown hair. I’d never seen the guy before, but I knew right away that he was the detective Frank had hired.

The guy was wearing a big black winter jacket, jeans, and work boots. He looked over at me for a second, then he looked back at Frank. Over the reggae music, I couldn’t hear everything he was saying, although a couple of times I heard him say “Debbie.” But I wasn’t worried. If the detective saw Debbie going into my apartment today, he would have come to talk to me by now. I sat down at the bar with my coffee and opened one of the carrot cakes. Looking straight ahead, I was watching Frank and the detective in the mirror behind the bar, and there was a break in the music so I picked up on more of their conversation.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” the detective was saying. “I went back to the building and the doorman said he didn’t see her go in. I hung out awhile, for maybe an hour, but she didn’t come back.”

“Well, what can you do?” Frank said. “You’ll just have to try again tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll catch her,” the detective said. “I just need another day or two and tomorrow I’m gonna wear a disguise so she won’t see me.”

“Do whatever you have to do,” Frank said.

After they bullshitted for a little while longer, Frank and the detective stood up and shook hands. Then the detective left the bar without looking in my direction. Frank came over and sat down on the stool next to me.

“That was the guy I told you I hired to follow Debbie.”

“He find anything out?”

“He saw her leaving the building this afternoon, probably on her way to meet one of her lover boys, when she stopped and told a cop that some guy was following her. So the cop stopped Fred—that’s his name—and by the time Fred explained what was going on, Debbie was gone—in a cab.”

“That really sucks Easter eggs, huh?” I said.

“I just hope this guy Fred knows what he’s doing—Gil, lemme get one on the rocks—I mean he’s a professional so he should know.”

“I don’t think you gotta worry,” I said. “Knowing the way Debbie gets around I bet he’ll get some good pictures for you to use in no time.”

Now Frank was staring off. I realized I’d probably said the wrong thing.

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s all right. You’re just telling the goddamn truth.”

Gil put down Frank’s drink. Frank took a long sip then said, “You’re gonna think I’m crazy, but in a way I still love her. Pretty pathetic, huh?”

“No, I understand,” I said. “I mean she’s your wife, you share the same bed...”

“I know you’re right,” Frank said. “You’ve always been right, giving me good advice, but I never had the sense to listen to you. The shrinks have a name for what I’m talking about—Jesus, I swear, my fuckin’ mind’s going.”

“But you know what I think?” I said. “I think once she’s out of the picture you’ll forget all about her. You’ll be out there in Arizona with all those beautiful women—you’ll find somebody who’ll treat you a lot better than Debbie ever did.”

“You ever seen me in swimming trunks? It’s not a pretty sight.”

“Come on, I’m sure you look great,” I said. “And a guy like you, from New York, you’ll have no problem at all.”

“No, I think Debbie was the best I’ll ever get.”

“You gotta be kiddin’ me. What you gotta do is start moving up. I’m serious. Instead of looking for women in their forties, look for women in their fifties and sixties, maybe even in their seventies. Arizona’s like Florida. They got all those rich widows down there, waiting for a guy to come along. And once you get that bar going, forget about it—you’ll have a woman for every night of the week.”

“Co-dependent,” Frank said.

“What?”

“That’s the word I was thinking of before—I’m co-dependent. I like to be with sick, fucked-up women because I’m sick and fucked up myself. I never told you this before, but my first wife was an alcoholic too. She wasn’t as bad as Debbie, but she was close. My point is maybe the problem’s me, not her—maybe any woman would run around on me. Maybe I should call off the divorce and try to patch things up.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Why not? You know, most of the problems we have are all because of booze. If I could just get her to lay off, maybe we could go get some counseling, try to work things out—”

“You’re not serious, I hope.”

“No, I wish I was, but I know it’s too late. I’ll go through with the goddamn divorce, go out to cactus country and see what life has in store for me. But I’m telling you—I don’t think anything I find out there’ll be better than what I have in front of me right now.”

Frank took another swig of his vodka-tonic. I stood up and stretched.

“So I guess Gary’s not coming in tonight, huh?” I said.

“Haven’t seen or heard from him since Monday,” Frank said. “His tape picks up when I call—for all I know he left New York. But I’ll tell you one thing—I’m glad you’re taking over the bar instead of him. The damn kid is just too unreliable. I need somebody running this bar I can trust.”

“You can trust me.”

“I know I can. You’re probably the only person in the world I can trust right now. Jesus, you look like you’re about to fall down. Why don’t you go home?”

“That’s all right,” I said. “I’m fine.”

“No, I’m serious. I mean I appreciate you coming in here when you’re feeling like this, but it’s gonna be a slow night—Gil can proof at the bar—”

“Forget about it,” I said, patting Frank on the back.

I went into the bathroom and passed out. I came to a few seconds later with a nice bruise on my ass. I splashed cold water on my face.

Eating the Snickers bar and the second carrot cake gave me a boost. I was hoping it would be a slow night, but some fuckin’ kid picked tonight of all nights to celebrate his twenty-first birthday and he had to do it at O’Reilley’s. College kids were spilling in all night—most of them looked eighteen or nineteen, and some looked younger, but I was too tired to do my job right. I just sat on my stool, waving everybody in, even a kid with a bogus Jersey license that looked like it was made on a computer.

I drank a couple of Cokes to keep the caffeine coming, but at around 11:30 I couldn’t take it anymore. I told Frank I was taking off and I headed down First Avenue.

The wind had picked up and the temperature must have dropped another ten degrees. It was probably in the teens now, heading down into the single digits. My hands and feet were frozen stiff and it felt like I had icicles on my face. I was starting to get a sore throat.

I was turning the corner onto my block when I realized what deep shit I could be in. This afternoon I’d parked my car in front of a hydrant. If the cops towed it away I didn’t know how I’d get rid of the body.

I jogged up the block and thank God the car was still there. It was like a fuckin’ miracle—I didn’t even get a ticket.

Amazingly, the engine caught on the first try. I drove up the block and double-parked in front of my building. Leaving the engine running, I went inside. I was dizzy, going up the stairs. In my apartment, I spread the blanket down on the floor and then I lifted Debbie up. She was already stiff and purple, but for some reason her body was warm. I was about to get the pillow to finish her off, when I realized that she only felt warm because my hands were so fucking freezing.

I let out a deep breath and smiled, thinking this would all seem very funny someday.

I laid Debbie down on the blanket. I put the fur coat back on her and then I put her pocketbook over her shoulder. I looked around to make sure she hadn’t brought anything else into the apartment with her. All I noticed was the shopping bag from the Chinese restaurant, but I figured I’d get rid of that later. I rolled Debbie up in the blanket.

Normally, I could’ve carried her down to the street, no problem, but I was so tired it felt like she was twice her actual weight. On the second floor, I thought I heard somebody coming out of their apartment. I froze, but the noise stopped.

When I got down to the vestibule there was a man passing by outside, but he was looking straight ahead and didn’t see me. I waited until he was down the block and there were no cars passing by and then I carried Debbie outside. Thanks to the cold, there weren’t any other people on the street. Moving fast, I opened the trunk. I had a lot of shit in there—a spare tire, tools, old clothes—but I couldn’t start cleaning now. I stuffed her inside. Part of her body wouldn’t fit so I had to bend it. But part of her must’ve still been blocking something because I still couldn’t close the fucking thing. I tried a few more times and then, finally, using all my might, I slammed the trunk down and it locked.

I got on the FDR Drive, heading downtown. I took the Manhattan Bridge and stayed on Flatbush. The Brooklyn streets were empty and if I could’ve gotten my car going over twenty-five miles an hour I might’ve made every light. As it was, it was stop-and-go like I was in rush-hour traffic. A couple of times I caught myself dozing at the wheel and I fought to stay awake. I figured that some loud music would help keep me up so I turned on the radio to a rap station and cranked the volume.

I was driving past Church Avenue when I spotted the police car behind me. Then the siren came on and the cop came on the bullhorn and told me to pull over.

I figured there was probably just something wrong with my car—maybe one of my taillights was out or something. No matter what, I had to stay cool. The police car stopped behind me with the brights shining in my rear-view mirror.

A cop came up to my window. He was a white guy, about my size and age. He had a mustache.

“Hey, how’s it goin’?” I said.

“Can you turn that music down please?”

I lowered the volume, realizing that with the way that rap music was blasting they must’ve thought they were pulling over a drug dealer.

“Can I see your license and registration please?”

I took my license out of my wallet and the registration out of the glove compartment and handed them to him. “What’s the problem?” I said. “I know I couldn’t’ve been speeding—not in this piece of shit.”

I laughed, hoping he’d laugh too but he didn’t. He took out a flashlight and shined it at my face.

“Your eyes are bloodshot. Have you been drinking tonight?”

“You kiddin’ me? I’m exhausted. I’m just trying to get to my brother’s house so I can get some rest.”

He shined a flashlight into the car—looking on the floor in front of the front seat—then he checked out the back seat.

“Do you have any alcohol or drugs in the car?”

“No,” I said.

“We were following you for a few blocks. Your car was swerving pretty badly.”

“Sorry about that,” I said. “It’s just because I’m so tired. I just worked a twenty-hour shift at my job at the factory.”

“Factory?”

“Yeah, I work at a watch factory down by the Navy Yards.”

“You shouldn’t be driving if you’re exhausted.”

“I wouldn’t’ve, but it didn’t hit me until a few minutes ago. But I got my second wind back now.”

“Where does your brother live?”

“Avenue J.”

He stared at me like he knew I was lying. I thought he was going to say “Get out of the car” and ask me to open the trunk. I had no idea what I’d do then, but instead he gave me back my license and registration and said, “Just be careful, pal.”

I drove away, making sure I didn’t swerve. The cop car followed me for a few more blocks and then it pulled over in front of a grocery store. I let out a long deep breath. The way my heart was pounding there was no way I was going to fall asleep at the wheel now.

I stayed on Flatbush for a couple more miles, then I made a right on Avenue U. When I got to Marine Park I made a U-turn and stopped by the curb under a busted lamppost. There were a few cars passing by and I made sure the coast was totally clear before I got out. I opened the trunk and took out the stiff body. Then, walking as fast as I could, I headed toward the marsh.

When I was a kid I used to go fishing in the Marine Park inlet. The water was so polluted I spent most of my time taking garbage off my hook and the only fish I brought home were the ones I found dead on the shore. The land before the shoreline wasn’t as overrun by weeds as I remembered, but maybe this was because I was never there in the winter.

I walked in the darkness over the snow and mud. My feet were wet and cold, but I wanted to make sure I was far enough away from the street before I put the body down. After walking for a little while longer, I was up to my ankles in freezing slush and I couldn’t go any further. I dropped the body instead of putting it down, which turned out to be a big mistake. Slush splashed up all over me, including on my face. I was going to just walk away, but then I decided that it’d probably be a good idea to take the blanket with me. So I unrolled Debbie into the slush. She wound up on her back and at the same moment some clouds must’ve moved away from in front of the moon because, suddenly, there was pale blue light shining down on her white body.

If it was summer, the body would probably be discovered right away. But in the winter, in that mud and slush, they might not find her until March or April.

I got back into my car—first making sure nobody was around—then I drove away. On the off chance that the same cop car was still cruising Flatbush Avenue, I decided to take a different route home. I must’ve gotten my second wind, because I wasn’t tired at all. I pulled into the parking lot of a supermarket on Coney Island Avenue and drove to the back where there was a dumpster. The supermarket was closed and the lot was empty. I got out of the car, tossed the muddy blanket into the dumpster, and drove away. Then I got on the Belt Parkway and headed back toward the city, chugging along in the right lane.

I still had mud all over me and I’d gotten the car dirty too.

Tomorrow I’d clean off my jeans and sneakers and I’d clean the mud out of the car, although I probably didn’t have to. Even if somebody did discover Debbie’s body before the spring, nobody would ever suspect me.

Driving back to Manhattan my second wind was gone. I had to concentrate to stay awake, slapping myself in the face and wiggling my toes. Luckily, there was a spot right in front of my building that would be good until Friday morning at eleven o’clock.

I wobbled up the stairs to my apartment. I yanked the phone cord out of the wall and killed the lights. Then I collapsed onto my open bed and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.