The Old Man(16)

Peter Caldwell was a friendly, but not outgoing, tenant. His dogs were better than he had promised, and that was a relief to him and, he was sure, to Zoe. But one day when he and the dogs returned home from their second walk, Zoe was waiting for him on the big couch in the living room that faced the apartment door. “Hi, Peter.”

“Hi,” he said. “It’s nice out. Have you been out this afternoon?”

“No,” she said. “I had some things to do around here and got caught up. Are you okay?”

“Me?” he said. “Sure. My health has always been far better than I deserve, and these two make me get out and walk.”

“You know, Peter, I’ve been thinking that you and I should talk. You seem to be doing your best to be completely silent and invisible. That’s not necessary.”

“I’ve lived alone for ten years, and I’ve never had much experience as a roommate, so I’m trying to find the right balance. It’s a thin line, so I have to feel around for it.”

“You’re a mile from being irritating, and an invisible man is kind of creepy. Relax. This is your place as much as mine—more, because you’re paying for two bedrooms. You’re not just welcome in the living room and kitchen when I’m gone, but when I’m here too. So are Dave and Carol. I like them, and I can tell they like me. At least they don’t want to bite my neck and shake me to death. You don’t have to be so damned considerate that I feel like I’m living with a ghost.” She gave him a look of suspicion. “You’re not wanted for anything, are you?”

“Less and less as I get older.”

She laughed. “It happens to all of us.”

“Well, thank you,” he said. “I’ll try not to tiptoe around too much.”

“Good,” she said. “You know, maybe it would help if we got more used to each other. We should go out for a drink sometime. Once you know me, you won’t care if I get offended.”

“I doubt that,” he said. “Let’s go now. If you’ll just give me a minute to feed these two, I’m free.”

“All right,” she said. “While you’re doing that, I’ll get my purse.”

He went to the kitchen to feed the dogs. As he watched them eat, he considered. The apartment was perfect for his purpose. Zoe held the lease, and he had never needed to give anyone but her so much as his name. He had already stayed out of sight for five weeks. As long as he remained careful, he was almost impossible to find. He had left no trail. The longer he could stay here the safer he would be. Going out for a drink with Zoe was something he wouldn’t ordinarily do. She was too pretty, too arresting to go unnoticed, and having a companion might distract him from watching for trouble. But being with a woman did make him appear more like everyone else, and he needed to keep her happy. He went to his closet, took out a sport coat, and sat on the couch to wait.

When she appeared she was wearing black pants that hugged her body, and a short jacket that was cut like the one she’d worn to meet him. He said, “You look too good for me.”

“Once I was in there for my purse, I figured what the heck.”

They walked to a restaurant she had recommended to him when she’d shown him around the neighborhood five weeks earlier. It was called John Harmon’s Irish Bar and Grill. They went inside and he studied the place. There was a dining room that was all dark wood paneling and booths, with a fireplace. And there was a barroom that was completely filled by men and women in their twenties and early thirties, just off work.

Caldwell took Zoe’s arm and conducted her to the dining room, where a young blond woman took them to a booth. They ordered a pair of Jameson 18 black label whiskeys and two glasses of water, and sat across from each other. As soon as the drinks arrived, Caldwell said to their waitress, “Two more please. Just the whiskey.”

When the waiter left, Zoe said, “Why?”

“I know we’ll want another and I won’t want to interrupt our conversation to ask for the next one. And I don’t want her to have to interrupt us.”

She picked up her glass of whiskey. “Damned sensible.”

“Thank you. To pretty ladies.” He took a draught of the whiskey and let it expand on his tongue to impart its warmth and flavor before he swallowed it.

“To sensible men.” She drank.

“So here’s what I know,” he said. “You’re a fine pianist. I’ve listened to you. And you have a daughter and a son who turned out okay. I assume you poisoned their father?”

Her eyes widened and her shoulders came up, and she nearly spit out her drink, but managed to swallow and laugh. “You’ll never pin that one on me. He’s alive and well except for the alimony.”

“Why are you divorced?”

“Isn’t that a little personal?”

“General terms,” he said. “Did he beat you up, or suddenly realize he was gay, or did you just catch him cheating?”

“Cheating. I know it sounds mundane, but it seemed like enough of a surprise at the time. I was a pretty good wife, and I was trying to be a better wife, because it’s a little easier to do once the kids are out of the house. When we had it out, I gave him a choice, and he picked the girlfriend.” She took another sip of her whiskey.

“Why?”