The Man In Number 7 Read online

  “You do not want to be late for your first day on the job. Eat this on the way,” Petra shoved the sandwich at Apolline. “I will take care of Elizabeth when she wakes up, no worries at all.”

  Apolline took the sandwich and gave Petra a hug. “Thank you, Petra. You are so good to me.” She gave a quick wave good-bye as she ducked out the kitchen door into the brisk morning air. The sandwich was hot and it warmed her insides as she walked the three blocks to the restaurant. No one was on the streets this early and she smiled at the predawn quiet. No cars, no buzzing casino machines, no flashing lights, even the birds in the trees were silent. Yes, she liked Boise much better than Winnemucca. It wasn’t dusty here. It felt safe. She was unknown here, and that was a good thing. She crossed the street and took the last bite of sausage, egg, and homemade biscuit.

  As she stepped up onto the curb, a car zoomed past her in the dim morning light. It made Apolline’s heart race. When did she become so timid and scared at every little thing? She stood silent for a moment forcing herself to take a deep breath and slow her pace. “It is nothing,” she whispered. “Just a car. No Angel of Darkness is following me.” She crossed her fingers hoping it was true.

  She rounded the restaurant and walked in the employee entrance at the back. Steve was cutting up fruit for the morning menu. He smiled over his shoulder at her. “Ah, Apolline. This is Betty,” he pointed with his chubby chin to a blond woman filling salt and pepper shakers. “That’s Carlos over there, he’s one of the bus boys.”

  Carlos flashed a quick smile, grabbed a rag, and headed out into the dining room where he wiped down the tables and booths.

  “What can I do first?” Apolline asked.

  “Follow Betty, she’ll show you the rounds. We open in thirty minutes.” Steve looked up at Betty. “Get her an apron and an order pad, she’s been around the block a time or two. She’s no amateur.” He went back to chopping and dicing, whistling as he worked.

  “Come on,” Betty nodded for Apolline to follow her. “We got clean aprons in here, and all the pencils, pens, and pads you’ll need. You’ve done a punch clock before, right?” Betty wrote Apolline on the top of a new punch card and shoved it in the clock. “What’s your last name?”

  “Dubois,” Apolline said as she tied the apron around her small waist. “And yours?”

  “Johnson. I’m Betty Johnson. Where you from?”

  “I’m from … the…south,” she didn’t want to say exactly where. After all, she was trying to disappear, not be traceable. It was best if she didn’t give any specifics.

  “Well, Apolline Dubois from the south, welcome to Boise, Idaho,” Betty smiled and handed her a couple of freshly sharpened pencils and an order pad. “With your pretty face, you’ll do just fine.”

  Apolline wasn’t sure what Betty meant by her remark, but she smiled and slipped the pencils and pads into her apron pockets. Being a waitress was easy. She would keep her head down, stay busy, and earn a living for now.

  The day was hectic with a full breakfast crowd and barely enough time to clean the tables off and get a ten minute break before the lunch crowd showed up. Murray’s had a reputation for good food, reasonable prices, and friendly service. By the end of her shift, Apolline felt like she had seen everyone in the county, plus all the surrounding counties. She was amazed they didn’t run out of chicken, hamburger patties, or ice cream for the malts and shakes. This restaurant was the busiest she’d ever seen. But she liked that. It kept her mind off of things she didn’t need to be thinking about anyway. Like Jules Glenn Dubois. She’d killed him with her own hands. Still, a trace of doubt lingered in her mind.

  He must be dead. He was dead. She watched the life drain out of his body and seep into the cheap carpet. Why did she keep expecting him to walk into the room? Apolline’s heart skipped a beat every time the dining room door opened. Her breathing became rapid just thinking about it. She went out the back door for a break and stood with her back against the wall, closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing.

  “Are you okay?” Carlos asked.

  It startled Apolline and she gasped, holding a hand to her chest. Then she gave a nervous laugh. “Oh yes, I am fine. I just…” she searched for the right words, but nothing came. “Thanks, Carlos, I am fine.” Apolline gulped down a hard breath.

  “Where do you live?” Carlos asked as he took out a cigarette and lit it up. She hadn’t had a cigarette all day and she was craving the sweet nicotine that glided into her lungs and eased her nerves. It made Apolline’s mouth water. Carlos held out the pack offering her a cigarette. She hesitantly accepted and let him light it for her. She could feel the muscles in her face relax with every inhale. That’s all she needed for now as the raw edges of her nerves quieted.

  “So?” Carlos asked.

  “So, what?”

  “Where do you live? I’m not trying to get personal, I just thought if we lived in the same vicinity, I could walk you home. We get off at the same time.” He took another drag from his cigarette. “I live on the corner of 5th and Myrtle. In the big apartment house.”

  Savoring another drag from her cigarette, Apolline smiled and relaxed her chest. “I am staying with friends right now. But I am in that general direction.” She didn’t know the exact address, and she wouldn’t give that out anyway. She wasn’t sure if it was paranoia or precaution. Either way she kept details to herself. She eyed Carlos. He was a good five inches taller than her, maybe a couple years older. He was handsome with his wavy black hair and cobalt eyes. He had the longest eye lashes she’d ever seen on a man. His manner was sweet and his voice was kind. She wanted to trust him, but these days, Apolline couldn’t even trust herself.

  “Maybe I will walk you home when we get off,” she smiled, dropped the cigarette on the concrete and stepped on it.

  Walking back into the building, Apolline stopped in the doorway and looked back over her shoulder. Carlos was still leaning against the wall outside, his arms crossed over his firm chest, his dark eyes glimmered as he smiled at her. She continued into the kitchen. He was cute, and in a different life, a different world, she could see herself flirting with Carlos. But not in this life, not in this world. She had sealed her fate with the blade of a knife. And now she left her past behind like a stain on the dirty carpet. She bit her lip and meandered into the dining room.

  A family of four, mom, dad, and two teenage girls sat down at a table in her section. She pasted on her best smile, placed menus in front of them, and pulled out her pencil and pad. “Can I get you anything to drink while you look at the menu?” Work helped Apolline hold onto her sanity. But Carlos…the thought of his bedroom eyes sent a warm surge down her spine and into her belly. If only she could cross over from one world to another.

  Punching her card into the time clock, Apolline rubbed her neck then sat down to take some weight off of her tired feet. It had been a long day. She put the pencils and pads on a shelf with others, untied her dirty apron and tossed it in a laundry bin.

  “See you at six tomorrow when the fun starts all over again,” Betty said as she tossed her apron in the basket. “It gets easier, once you get used to it.” She winked, pulled her purse out of a small locker and exited out the back door marked employees only. Apolline took in a deep breath, her eyes fixed on the door. She was ready to go home and soak her feet in hot water. She hoped Petra had something to soak her feet in. If not, she would just soak her whole body in a hot bath.

  “Come on, I’ll walk you as far as my apartment building. It’s okay,” Carlos ran a comb through his black wavy hair then slid the comb into his jeans back pocket.

  “I am too tired to argue,” Apolline said as she wrenched her way up out of the chair. She pulled her sunglasses out of her small purse as they stepped out of the back door into the late afternoon sun. The air was hot. But it wasn’t humid like the south. The air had a different smell to it here. Not the barren dust of the Nevada desert, but certainly not the aromatic fragrances she remembered from back
home in Louisiana. She missed her home. But she didn’t know if she could ever go back there. Not now. Not after she…stabbed him. Dead or wounded, didn’t matter. She left him for dead either way. She remembered all the blood. It was like a photograph imprinted on her mind.

  “Where did you move here from?” Carlos asked as they stepped off the curb and crossed 8th Street heading up Myrtle Street.

  “Oh, it feels like a million miles away. What about you? You’re Mexican? You have a pretty strong accent,” Apolline was getting good at dodging direct questions and changing the subject.

  “Yes, I…was not born here,” Carlos was avoiding direct questions too.

  “Then we have something in common,” Apolline said.

  They stopped on the corner of 5th and Myrtle Streets. “Well this is me. I live in apartment number 5, upstairs. It’s small, but the price is right,” Carlos nodded to the upper level of the building.

  They stood for a moment and stared at the large mansion-turned-apartment building. A shiver passed through Apolline in a single breath. A shiver that warned her of the house cloaked in shadows and secrets. She tried to ignore it. She needed a home. Something close, something cheap. Perhaps with her own secret, she would fit right in.

  “How many apartments are in there?” Apolline asked as she took in the elegant lines and grandeur of the Queen Anne architecture. The inviting porch, the bay windows, and the beautifully groomed yard flanked by a huge willow tree.

  “Seven,” Carlos replied. “If you know of anyone who’s looking, my neighbor is moving out. She lives in number 6.”

  “How big is it? Number 6, I mean,” Apolline surveyed the upper part of the building.

  “None of the apartments are big. All the ones upstairs are one bedroom or studios. But everyone’s nice and it’s quiet. I like that.”

  “Furnished?” Apolline queried further.

  “Um, yeah, but nothing fancy, just the basics.”

  “How much?”

  Carlos looked over at her as she held her gaze on the lines of the old building, the many windows along the side. “Are you interested?”

  “Oui, I mean, yes…I do need a place. But I have to wait until I get my first paycheck.”

  “Come with me,” Carlos nodded for her to follow him. He held the gate open for her to pass through and closed it behind him. The front lawn was neatly cared for with purple and blue irises that caressed the porch. Wide steps beckoned them up to the front door that Carlos pushed open for her. Apolline stepped inside the entry way and smiled.

  “Home.” The words crossed her lips ever so slightly. The threshold was worn from nearly seventy years of those who had entered here. Three doors opened into the small hallway. The first door on the left was marked 2, the next one was 3, and the door directly in front of them at the end of the hall was labeled 1. To the right was a beautiful open staircase with a proper wood railing. It went up, then across to the left at the top. Shafts of light drifted down from windows at the top of the stairs with an unspoken whisper inviting her in.

  “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the owners,” Carlos stepped forward to the apartment just ahead and knocked.

  The door opened with a squeal and a short older woman with tightly permed, blue tinted hair greeted them. She was as short as a round barrel of leaves, and her husband standing behind her, was as tall and skinny as a rake. The apartment smelled of homemade apple pie and cinnamon. Warm and delicious. The man pulled out his pocket watch, raised an eyebrow at it, then shuffled into the other room.

  “Yes?” Mrs. McLaughlin said.

  “Hi, Mrs. McLaughlin. This is Apolline, she works with me at Murrays, and she’s interested in an apartment.” Carlos stepped back behind Apolline.

  “Oh, lovely, won’t you come in, dear? How about you, Carlos? Tea?”

  “No thank you, I have to get upstairs to my books. I have class tonight.” Carlos waved courteously at the two women, turned and hurried up the stairs two steps at a time.

  “Well, come in, come in,” Mrs. McLaughlin said. She walked across the comfy living room with a large bay window on the side, an oversized, faded wool rug covering most of the hardwood floor, and floral Queen Anne furniture. She pointed to two winged back chairs separated by a cherry wood end table and a brass floor lamp. “Have a seat dear. Would you like some tea? Or maybe a lemonade?”

  “Lemonade actually sounds really good, if it would not be a bother?” Apolline said as she sat in the chair. The cushion was hard and the back felt like it was full of rocks. The stout little old woman headed off into the other room. The wood floor under her feet creaked like an old woman itself.

  “Here you go,” Mrs. McLaughlin handed Apolline the tall glass of lemonade. “We do have an apartment upstairs coming open later this week. But first, tell me a little bit about yourself, dear.”

  “I…uh,” Apolline hated this part. Couldn’t she just get the apartment without being quizzed? “I…” she studied the old woman’s face. Could she trust her? Apolline wasn’t even sure if she knew how to trust anyone. “I was born in Louisiana. My daughter, Elizabeth is five, and we need a home, a place to stay. But I just started working today, so I am not sure when I will have enough for the first month’s rent.” She looked up hesitant to ask. “How much is the rent, Mrs. McLaughlin?”

  “Please, call me Mildred. My husband and I bought this old building about five years ago. Warren, that’s my husband, he takes care of all the handy work and the lawn. He’s a good man when he gets his nose out of the newspapers.” Mildred set her cup of tea in the saucer on the table between them. “You know this house was originally built for a judge in 1893. It’s a fine house. There’s no heating bill since it’s all geothermal.” She pointed to the silver radiator under the glass in the center of the bay window. “You know, natural hot water springs. And obviously, no air conditioner. But the building shields the heat out pretty well.” The room did feel comfortably cool. “Where do you live now?”

  “Uh, I am temporarily staying with Petra and Domingo just on the other side of the block,” Apolline hoped it was okay to divulge that.

  “Oh, the Basque families. That’s a close knit community for sure. Well, as I was saying about the apartment, the utilities are included, as minimal as they are. But it’s a shared bathroom.” Mildred’s eyebrows raised. “Tell you what dear, if you’re still interested next Monday, you come back here and we’ll do a walk through, see what you think. If you like it, it’s yours.”

  “But you did not tell me yet what the rent is,” Apolline said.

  “Oh yes, we’ll work that out. Is your husband coming too?” Mildred eyed the slender gold band on Apolline’s ring finger.

  “No, um…” Apolline slid her left hand into her skirt pocket. “He had to go home to Louisiana.” She felt her face flush. She couldn’t very well say she had murdered him. Sorry, he won’t be coming because he’s bleeding to death in Nevada. The silliness of it all almost made her smile. “He…he had…problems. Health problems. No, he will not be coming here at all.”

  Breathe. Just breathe.

  “Well, that’s fine dear. I just want to make sure there’s enough room for you.”

  Warren sauntered into the living room with his face buried in the newspaper he carried. He eased his tall lanky body down onto the couch. “Did you see this?”

  “Warren, we have a guest,” Mildred huffed. “Get your nose out of that paper and be polite.”

  “Oh, hello there,” Warren lowered the newspaper just far enough so he could peek over the top of the pages. His soft gray eyes that matched his gray hair perfectly, sparkled with delight. “Nice to meet you. Do you follow the news? Did you see this story about the North Vietnamese President requesting U.S. troops to train the soldiers of his country?” Warren shook his head in disapproval. “Mark my word, this can lead to no good. No good at all. Vietnam!”

  Mildred leaned forward toward Apolline. “Pay him no attention. That’s what I do.” She leaned back in righteous s
atisfaction glancing over at her husband.

  “Thank you,” Apolline finished off the last of the ice cold lemonade, stood up, and headed toward the front door. “I better be going, Elizabeth will be wondering where I am.”

  “Good, good, dear,” Mildred stood up to follow her to the door. “Then I hope to see you on Monday.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Apolline offered a smile and left the apartment building. She stood at the gate before leaving the yard and gave the large two story home one last look. It did feel like home. She’d never had her own home. Alone. Just her and Elizabeth. Excitement rose in her chest and up her throat.

  Home.

  Chapter 6

  Winnemucca, Nevada

  Julien stood next to his brother’s old Chevy pickup and stared at the apartment door in front of him. This day had been a long time coming and he was glad to finally catch up to his scum of a brother. He took a drag off of his cigarette and knocked on the door. He waited, but there was no answer. No sound from inside. He knocked again. He looked over his shoulder at the pickup that had a layer of dust settled on its windows and body as if it hadn’t been driven in a month. He knocked again. He looked all around to see if there were any bystanders.

  None. He tried the doorknob.

  It was unlocked. He quickly slipped in the front door closing in behind him.

  Once inside, Julien gasped clasping a hand over his nose and mouth, dropping his jacket on the floor. The air smelled fetid, of dead and decaying things. “Goddamn what dat smell?” The putrid stench burned his eyes. It was the smell of vile and unholy things. After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked down to the swarm of buzzing flies feeding on the corpse in the middle of the room.