The Old Man(14)

It had been many years since he had been in the Chicago area for more than a day or so on the way to somewhere else. He had to do some exploring. He liked the look of Geneva, and the apartment seemed promising. It was 1,800 square feet, with three bedrooms and two baths. When he drove by the building, he was pleased with it. The place was made of gray limestone like a dormitory in an eastern college, with a rounded lintel over a thick wooden front door that looked as though it would be hard to open with a battering ram. There was a back staircase that led to what looked like a kitchen door on the second floor.

He stopped the car and called the number in the ad. He described himself to the woman who answered the phone as a sixty-year-old retiree who wanted the benefits of Chicago but didn’t want to live in the center of it. She asked him how soon he could come and see the apartment. The way she said it intrigued him. He said he could be there in a half hour, and went to get a cup of coffee.

When he knocked on the door, the woman materialized in the doorway. She was slim and appeared to be about forty years old, wearing tight jeans and a short black jacket that might have been designed for a male Spanish dancer. She said her name was Zoe McDonald, and she had blue eyes and chestnut hair. He studied her as they talked in the foyer. She had a pleasant, soft voice, no strange mannerisms, and there was nothing about her to make him feel worried.

She seemed satisfied with the way he looked. He was an inch or so taller than average and he had kept himself in the same physical condition since he’d joined the army, because he had the sort of enemies who were physically dangerous. But his training hadn’t made him muscle-bound or threatening.

She led him from the small foyer up a set of stairs to the second-floor landing and the apartment entrance. He followed her inside to a large living room with two couches and a couple of armchairs all bathed in light from a set of three large windows.

She explained that she had rented the place for $2,000 a month and wanted two roommates of either sex to defray the costs. His share would be $650 for one bedroom. The bathrooms would be shared or private, depending on the sex of the third roommate. As she talked, Caldwell studied the furnishings, searching for things that would tell him more about her.

In an alcove there was a grand piano, and on it were three framed photographs, turned toward the keyboard. One was a picture of her with a young woman—little more than a girl—who looked a bit like her, and another was of her with a boy and the same girl in a boat with a set of water skis leaned upright behind them at the stern. He asked if she played piano while he looked at the third picture. She and the kids were in it again on a green lawn, but the picture was oddly asymmetrical, because it had been cropped. He knew that the missing person was the husband she must have divorced. He must have been the one who took the other two pictures.

She said she only practiced the piano once a day, and would be considerate to him and the other roommate about when she did it.

He said, “Don’t worry. If I were to live here, you could practice whenever you felt like it. I like the piano. My daughter played for about ten years, and it’s a good memory.” He knew it was a slight risk to mention a daughter, but he took it because he knew this woman would like the idea, and if he lived here he might want to call Emily.

He could tell that he’d made a good impression, so he decided to build on it. “I’d like to make a proposal that might help. I would like to stay for at least six months, possibly a year. And I would like to rent both empty rooms. That way we’d each get a private bathroom, and there wouldn’t be a third person to object to your practicing. If you agree, I would pay you the first six months in advance. But I have pets, and you would have to be all right with that.”

Her face acquired a look of doubt. “What sort of pets?”

“Two dogs.”

“Dogs.” Her voice was like a door closing.

“Yes. They’re waiting for me in the car. Would you be willing to go outside and meet them?”

“I just don’t know, Mr. Caldwell. I don’t mind dogs. I like them. But this isn’t really the sort of building where dogs are happy. There’s not much of a yard. And I have a landlord. Are they small dogs?”

He smiled. “Better than that. They’re good dogs.” He detected a slight tremor of amusement at the corners of her mouth. “Please,” he said. “Don’t say no yet. Just come out for a minute to say hello.”

He was beginning to hope he had judged her correctly. She had rented an apartment she couldn’t afford alone, because she had assumed she could easily attract two roommates. But it was now the last day of March. She obviously had not found any, or found acceptable ones. The rent was due. She hesitated. “All right.”

They both began to move toward the door, and he used the time to work on her. “I’d like to move in just as soon as I can, because I’m paying for a hotel while I search. And I can pay you in cash.”

When they were beside his car he opened the back door and said, “Okay, you two. Come out.”

The two black dogs jumped down from the backseat, and Zoe seemed to stiffen, as though she were afraid. But the dogs sat on the grass strip by the sidewalk, studying his face and waiting to hear what was expected of them. He said, “This is Dave, and this one is Carol. Dogs, this is Zoe McDonald.” She held out her hand and the two sniffed it, so she petted their heads.

He said, “They’re not mean, they’re not dirty, and they don’t have accidents in the house. They do pretty much whatever I do, or what I ask them to.” The dogs brushed against her, letting her pet their backs.