Single white female

34

HEDRA had watched and waited, and when the time was right she met a Haller-Davis rental agent at the Cody Arms, a woman named Myra Klinger who was blocky as a soccer player and wore a pin-striped blue business suit complete with a yellow power tie and cuffed pants. Unexpectedly, Myra had a martyred nun's face with brown, injured eyes.

As she unlocked the door to apartment 3H, she looked oddly at Hedra. Hedra had dyed her hair red and styled it in a graceful backsweep, and with her altered makeup and deliberately added weight she had no fear of being recognized by any of the tenants. And even if she were recognized, it would merely be as someone they'd seen before in the building; they wouldn't connect her with Allie, whose own presence they'd only vaguely acknowledged. New York anonymity was a curse for some, for others a proper blessing.

Myra said, "Strange, you being named Jones. The woman who lived here last was named Jones."

Hedra smiled. "Common name. That's why my parents named me Eilla. Eilla Jones."

Myra swept open the door and stepped aside so Hedra could enter. It was all one smooth and expectant motion, like someone introducing a celebrity to an audience.

The apartment looked shockingly bare, and the traffic noises from outside seemed louder and more echoing than Hedra remembered. The scatter rugs were of course gone; there wasn't the slightest clutter in the place, and that changed its character entirely. But it could be furnished almost exactly the way it had been the day Hedra moved in. Standing and staring, Hedra could see it, all the furniture in place, the television playing and a book lying on the sofa, and there was a cup of hot chocolate resting on the fat sofa arm.

Home, she thought. I live here. I'm who I am, so there's nowhere else I should be, nowhere else I could be.

The air stirred by the opening door had settled back down; the atmosphere in the apartment was hot and close, thick enough for Hedra to feel lying smooth and heavy as the softest velvet on her bare skin.

She knew she was expected to react to the apartment, to say something, so she said, "Spacious, but it could be cozy, too." She walked down the hall, glanced into the bathroom as if looking at it for the first time. She nodded with approval. Nice touch, that. She peeked into the bedrooms and smiled. "The place'll be painted," Myra assured her.

Hedra faced Myra Klinger and said, "No, I love it exactly the way it is. I wouldn't change a thing." "You sure? It can be painted the same colors."

"I'm sure. And I can pay you three months' rent in advance. I'm promised a good job here, have been for months and now it's been confirmed, so money's no problem." Hedra told her about a job as a computer programmer. She gave Lawrence's phone number as the company number, in case Haller-Davis decided to check. She didn't think they'd bother, with a three-month advance plus a security desposit. And it was such a convincing story; she was so good at manipulating people like Myra Klinger, at sizing them up and then using them. It was, after all, their hearts' desire. Myra was thinking hard about the situation.

"To tell you the truth," Hedra said, "this is the last apartment on the list a rental service company gave me. If I don't get this one, I'm not sure what'll happen; I don't have any more apartments to look at." "You could get a new list."

"The way property is in Manhattan, I doubt if that'd help."

Myra shook her broad head and frowned. "Yeah, it's a hell of a world sometimes. Hell of a city, anyway." "Sure is." "People get trapped in all kinds of ways." "Don't they, though?"

"Even caring, affectionate people whose only real crime is being human." "Or different," Hedra said. "That, too."

Hedra locked gazes with Myra until she felt the subtle arc of current she'd expected. "Different people in particular get fucked over in this city, so they've gotta stick together, don't you think?"

Myra's breasts were rising and falling. "Are you positive you want this apartment, Eilla?"

"I especially want it," Hedra said. "And I'll do anything to get it."

Myra smiled. "Maybe there won't be any problem. I might recommend you get the apartment." "Oh, God! Thanks, Mrs. Klinger!"

Myra looked as if her feelings had been stepped on. She said, "It's Ms. And remember I said 'might.'"

"Oh, sure. Sorry. There's one thing more, Ms. Klinger." "It can be Myra."

Hedra grinned. She just bet it could be "Myra." "Fine. What I mean is, is there a storage area in the basement?" "Why, yes, there is."

"Would it be okay if I took a look at it? I've got some stuff to store-boxes of books and a bicycle." "I don't see why you can't have a look," Myra said.

Hedra rode to the basement with Myra in the service elevator. It was the sub-basement, actually, as the basement itself had long ago been converted to apartments.

In the time she'd lived at the Cody Arms, Hedra had been to the basement only once. She remembered being surprised by its dim vastness, as she was again now. Though it was warm beneath the octopus tangle of heating ducts and with the boilers nearby, there was a cold feel to the basement, as if it were a cave. And in a way, Hedra thought, it was a man-made cave. Far below street level.

The south end of the basement was partitioned into what might be described as stalls. Square, equal areas divided by thick slat fencing that ran from floor to ceiling. There were spaces of about two inches between the slats. Each stall had a section of slats that swung open to provide access. These were the "storage lockers" of the apartments above. The ones that had items stored inside-about a third of them-were equipped with heavy padlocks. There was a number stenciled on each locker, corresponding with an apartment number.

Myra knew her way around down here. She reached up with a stocky arm and yanked a pull cord, and a low-wattage bare bulb winked on and lessened the dimness in a limited area. She gripped Hedra's elbow tenderly and led the way down the corridor between rows of storage lockers, reaching up two more times to work a pull cord and shed light as they walked. From somewhere in the basement came a steady electrical buzzing, perhaps a transformer. The sound faded behind them.

Allie's locker was about halfway down the row. It was empty. Hedra was disappointed. She'd thought maybe some of Allie's things might still be down here, overlooked when Allie's possessions had been moved out. Directly across from Allie's storage space was the locker for 4H, Graham Knox's apartment. Hedra saw that it still contained what was left of Graham's possessions. In the shadows she could make out a dented file cabinet, and on top of it an old typewriter gathering dust. Probably the junk was tied up in probate court, Hedra thought, or maybe simply waiting to be hauled away.

"Damn," Myra said, fumbling with a large ring of keys. "I don't think I have anything that fits this lock, or I could open the door and you could get a better idea of how much space there is."

"Well, that's okay," Hedra said. She ran a hand across the slats. "I can estimate pretty well from here. What I got'll fit right in there." "I'll get the key to you later, I promise."

"You don't strike me as the type thay'd break a promise," Hedra said. A large roach ventured into the light, then turned and scurried along the base of a storage locker and back into darkness. "Or go back on a bargain."

"I'm not," Myra said in a strained voice. She rested a hand on Hedra's shoulder, near the base of her neck. "Are you?"

"No," Hedra said, smiling into the brown, agonized eyes. Not unlike Lawrence's eyes, only older. More resigned.

The two women left the dim basement and went back upstairs to the apartment.