The Man In Number 7 Read online

  In apartment 7.

  But no one lived in there. Her heartbeat raced and she knocked on the opaque glass window of the bathroom door. “Cher, you hurry up, you hear?”

  “Yes Mama,” Elizabeth called out in a sing song voice. Apolline could hear her daughter singing some children’s song to herself. It was cheerful.

  The sobbing stopped. She gulped and knocked on the glass again.

  “I almost done, Mama,” Elizabeth called out. Apolline leaned her back against her apartment door, her eyes fixed on the door marked 7. There was a child sobbing in there. She was sure of it. She heard it plain as day.

  Sobbing.

  Was there someone in there? Maybe she should check. What if someone had left a baby in there? She stepped forward, her hand reached out to the mysterious apartment door. The bathroom door slowly opened and little Elizabeth looked up at her mother. The noise startled Apolline and she jumped and gasped.

  “Are you okay, Mama?”

  “Yes, of course. Did you flush?” Apolline asked.

  “Oops!” Elizabeth giggled and ran back into the bathroom and pulled the lever on the back of the toilet.

  “What have I told you? Wash your hands,” Apolline pointed to a small foot stool under the white porcelain sink that was fastened to the wall. Her daughter pulled the step stool out, climbed up on it and could barely reach over the sink to turn on the handles. Apolline looked back nervously at apartment 7.

  “No soap, Mama,” Elizabeth clapped her hands under the running water having fun with the splashes. Apolline stepped into the square room and turned the water off.

  “That is good enough. I am sorry I forgot to bring the soap in. Come on, we can go home and dry your hands.” There was no towel in the community bathroom either. Pushing her daughter into their own apartment, Apolline gave the hall one last look before she shut the door. There were no more cries from number 7. Only silence that fell like an autumn leaf.

  “I hungry Mama, what’s for breakfast?” Elizabeth looked up with wide eyes that sparkled with laughter and joy. She plopped down in the middle of the living room floor and picked up a shoe box full of paper dolls and their fold-on clothes.

  “How about some oatmeal? I have brown sugar,” Apolline smiled as she walked past the small fridge and dining booth to the kitchen.

  “Raisins too,” Elizabeth called out.

  “What, cher?” Apolline asked standing in the doorway with the oatmeal tin in her hands, hearing her daughter whispering in the other room. “What are you whispering?” But Elizabeth didn’t answer. Instead she sat silent playing with her paper dolls. As Apolline stepped back toward the kitchen her daughter resumed the whispering. It gave her an uneasy chill.

  “Shhh,” Elizabeth appeared to look at someone sitting on the floor in front of her, yet there was no one there. She tilted her head as if listening, then giggled and resumed playing with her paper dolls.

  Apolline fumbled the tin a bit and walked through the living room to look at the front door. It was closed tight. She pulled the safety chain across as extra protection. “Who are you talking to, cher?”

  “Um…Ruby,” the little girl glanced over at the ragged stuffed toy beside her and giggled again.

  Edging her way back into the kitchen, Apolline kept a close eye on her daughter and the empty space in front of her. She knew when her daughter was whispering to Ruby. But this wasn’t that time. Was Elizabeth so desperate that she invented an imaginary friend? Did Apolline need to worry? She shook her head as she poured the oatmeal into the boiling water and stirred.

  Children. They do all sorts of crazy things. It was just a vivid imagination. That’s all it was. She repeated it several times.

  A vivid imagination.

  But just the same, they stayed inside all day and played paper dolls together. Apolline leaned back against the front of the couch and looked at her watch. “Oh cher, Miren will be here soon to babysit you.”

  Her daughter frowned with pouty lips. “But we’re playing,” she demanded.

  “I have to go to work. I told you this week I work the late shift. So Miren will be putting you to bed tonight, because when I get home you will already be asleep,” Apolline tweaked her daughter’s nose and chuckled. “Maybe Miren will take you outside for a little while to play in the yard.”

  “No,” Elizabeth shook her head with a stern expression. “I’m to stay inside today.”

  “Why?”

  “Uh, because David, I mean, Ruby said so,” Elizabeth went back to changing the clothes on her paper dolls. She had everything divided into neat little stacks. Casual clothes, pajamas, and dressy clothes. Apolline smoothed a lock of hair out of her daughter’s face and kissed her rosy cheek.

  “David? Who is David?”

  “Mama, I meant Ruby,” Elizabeth insisted.

  “Very well. Miren will make your dinner later,” Apolline felt sick to her stomach for a moment. She paced the room, then headed into the bedroom to get dressed for work. Something was wrong. Her stomach always acted up when something bad was about to happen.

  Had they found Jules’ body? Were they looking for her now? Would she go to prison? Apolline’s heart raced and her breathing became shallow as panic prickled the hair on the back of her neck.

  They couldn’t take her away now. Not now. She had a home here with her daughter. She and Elizabeth were happy. If the police came, maybe she would run. She would take Elizabeth and disappear somewhere else. She pulled her work uniform on and brushed her hair.

  A knock on the apartment door startled Apolline so much she shrieked. She closed her eyes for a moment and held a hand to her chest, calming her nerves. The knock repeated. She tiptoed to the door and looked out the peephole. It was Miren. She let out a heavy sigh of relief. Apolline pulled the safety chain off and opened the door.

  “Miren, come in,” Apolline stepped aside, but looked past the teenage girl to see if anyone else was in the hallway. “I am just about ready to go. I have some pork chops in the fridge, and there are some potatoes in the kitchen cupboard. She will be hungry in a couple of hours.”

  “No problem. But I was thinking I might take her to our home, my mother makes so much food. There would be plenty for Elizabeth there.”

  “Uh…She doesn’t…” Apolline looked back at her daughter, still playing in the middle of the living room floor. “Can you keep her in here today, and maybe tomorrow she will go to your house?”

  “Sure, we can handle pork chops,” Miren held her arms out to the little girl as she entered the room. Elizabeth jumped up and dashed into Miren’s arms. “You don’t want to go to my mother’s house for a big Basque dinner tonight?”

  Elizabeth pushed back a little so she could look the teenager straight in the eye. And with the most serious expression on her little face, she shook her head no.

  “I have to stay in today,” Elizabeth said, and wiggled out of Miren’s arms and back down to the floor. “Play paper dolls with me. You can have this black lady, she has really big hair,” she handed a paper doll and a stack of fold-on clothes over to the teenager.

  Miren sat down on the hardwood floor with the little girl. “You know what I did today?”

  “No,” Elizabeth continued sorting her paper dolls.

  “I took a leisurely cycle ride to find the ducklings we saw the other day, which I did. And then I visited with the old ginger cat again, who, I have learned, is a free agent called Kid and lives in a hole under the green house on the corner and catches birds in flight.” They both giggled.

  “Okay, I am out of here,” Apolline leaned over, kissed her daughter goodbye and grabbed her key off the end table. “You two be safe. I should be home a little after midnight.”

  “No problem, Apolline. We’ll be fine,” Miren said as she changed the outfit on the paper doll.

  “Thank you, Miren,” Apolline held her stomach as it cramped again. She pulled the door shut and locked it from the hallway. She inhaled a shaky breath and stepped lightly acro
ss the hardwood flooring and toward the stairs.

  A scuffle from the vacant apartment 7 made Apolline stop for a moment.

  “Wait, don’t go,” a ragged voice uttered from behind the door. It frightened Apolline so much she flew down the stairs and out the front door.

  Fear buzzed through her mind as she stepped out into the warm afternoon air. As she crossed 5th Street she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned to look at the tall bushes and trees across the street, but she didn’t see anything. Maybe it was a bird or a cat. Her stomach rolled and she felt nauseous.

  Then she saw him for just a split second. Jules standing next to a tree. Then he was gone. Her hands began to tremble. She picked up the pace and tried not to look anywhere but straight ahead.

  It couldn’t be Jules. He was dead. She was sure of it. She could still see his bloody corpse lying on the dirty carpet.

  Dear God, what if it was Jules? She ran as fast as she could. She stumbled on the curb of 7th Street only one block from the restaurant. Apolline stood up, panting, and wiped the blood off her scraped knee. Luckily she wasn’t wearing nylons. No time to look back. She had to keep running.

  Carlos was standing in the back door of the restaurant. He took a drag off of a cigarette. When he saw Apolline his smile changed to a worried frown as she got closer and he noticed her scraped up leg. “What did you do?”

  “It is okay, I just tripped. Clumsy, I am always so clumsy,” Apolline’s hands trembled and her heart raced. “I have to get inside,” she pushed past Carlos and rushed through the back of the kitchen to the time clock. She punched in, put a clean apron on, then went into the restroom to wash her knee. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and splashed cold water on her face. Her chest heaved with panic.

  It couldn’t be Jules.

  Jules was dead.

  He had to be.

  She had to call the police, she had to turn herself in. It was the only way to stop the madness that tormented her mind. Apolline stepped into the employee lounge and stared at the black phone that hung on the wall. Her stomach roiled in turmoil, her fingers trembled as she wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt. She had to do it. She had to confess her sins. She gulped. She would call the police.

  Stepping closer to the phone, her heart pounded against her chest. No, she wouldn’t call the police. She would call Alice at the Ranch House Restaurant in Winnemucca. She would tell her first. Then she would call the police. She needed to tell someone.

  One more step. Slowly, agonizingly, she raised her hand to pick up the receiver of the phone. It buzzed in her ear. She gulped. Looked around. She was alone. She dialed the long distance call and held her breath.

  “Hello, is Alice working today?...Yes, I can wait. I need to talk to her.” Apolline bit her bottom lip. She could do this. She needed to do this. “Alice, this is Apolline…” her heart nearly stopped, the color drained out of her skin. “Jules?...Jules said what? When?” her eyes glistened with tears. “When did you last see h…oh, I see. And is he there…no?” her chin quivered, tears bulged out of her eyes and streamed down her soft cheeks. “No, no, I am fine. I have to go now…yes, you too.”

  Returning the phone back in its cradle, Apolline slid down the wall and sat curled up on the floor, sobbing, shaking, unbelieving.

  Chapter 13

  Boise, Idaho

  Bernadette took the last drink of beer and tossed the bottle in the trash can. Except for the landlord’s apartment, this was the only one with a full-sized kitchen. She straightened the crayon drawings on the refrigerator door.

  “I’m ready, Mommy,” Vicki said holding her little bag full of toy troll dolls. They headed into the living room where Bernadette picked up an overnight bag that was sitting by the door.

  The black wall phone in the kitchen rang, Bernadette dropped the bag and hurried to answer it. “Hello,” she gasped as if she’d just run around the block. The kitchen in apartment 3 was square with old cupboards, brown and peach wallpaper, and no windows which only added to her already gloomy mood.

  “Hi Hon, I was just on my way out of the door when you called…you’re not coming home this weekend, are you?” Bernadette’s voice trailed off with disappointment. She sat on a red metal chair beside the phone and let the purse strap fall off her slumped shoulder.

  “Mommy, I’m ready,” her six year old daughter chirped.

  “Uh huh,” Bernadette waved at her daughter to put her things down and shut the door. “Okay, no, no, it’s okay. I love you too,” she hung up the phone and dropped her head against the wall phone, gazing at her daughter with sad green eyes. Her red hair neatly formed in a beehive style, and a bright yellow and orange scarf wrapped around her neck. She wore orange shorts and a yellow pleated maternity blouse that looked like a short dress.

  Vicki’s face registered her mother’s phone conversation. “Daddy’s not coming home?” Her pink lips formed into a pout.

  “I’m sorry honey, but Daddy has to work this weekend. Maybe next week we can see him,” Bernadette glanced down at her daughter’s feet. “Vicki Jo, you’ve got your shoes on the wrong feet again.”

  “They’re okay,” Vicki said. The little girl was quite pigeon-toed and often wore her shoes on the wrong feet. “If we aren’t going to see Daddy, can I go play with Lizzy?”

  “Who?”

  “You know, my new friend upstairs at the end of the hall. Lizzy,” Vicki put her hands on her hips.

  “Oh yes, of course. Stay close, I’ll start dinner in an hour or so,” Bernadette stepped over to the small refrigerator, pulled out a bottle of beer, and pulled the cap off with a bottle opener. She tipped it up and took a long drink. A knock on the apartment door stopped Bernadette from taking the next drink. She set the bottle of beer back in the fridge and answered the door. Warren McLaughlin stood there with his tool box and a big warm smile.

  “You said you had a leak under the kitchen sink? Thought I better take a look.”

  “Of course, come in.” Bernadette ushered her landlord into the kitchen where he got down on the floor with a flashlight and wrench.

  “Oh yeah, I see it. Just take a minute to fix.” He tightened the pipe joint, cleaned up the water mess and stood up. “How’s that husband of yours? Say, does he know the Airforce pilot Major White? You know he just passed a world record for speed.”

  “I don’t know if my husband knows a Major White. Sorry, Mr. Mclaughlin. But I need to go sit down.”

  “No problem. You take care and be sure to let us know if you need anything else.”

  Leading her landlord out of the apartment, Bernadette let out a heavy sigh. She went back in and retrieved her beer from the kitchen and headed outside. She stepped through the door of her first floor apartment, shuffled across the front porch, and slumped into one of the four metal chairs. She held her beer between her legs while she lit a cigarette, then picked up the bottle for another drink.

  The afternoon was pleasant, mid-eighties, and not a cloud in the sky. Bernadette wondered where her husband was flying to this week. He was a pilot stationed at the nearby Air Force Base in Mountain Home. It wasn’t that far away, less than an hour’s drive, but it might as well have been on the other side of the world. He was always gone, always on some mission. Bernadette rubbed her growing belly and the baby inside. She didn’t like raising one child alone, and certainly didn’t want to raise two. She resented her husband’s work. She hated that he had an exciting life, and she was stuck in this old apartment house with their six-year old daughter, and another baby on the way.

  The beer was cold and it tasted good. She tried not to drink while she was pregnant. But Bernadette failed at a lot of things she tried to do. She took another drag off of her cigarette.

  The screen door to the entrance of the building flew open as Vicki and Elizabeth rushed out and down the stairs. They fell onto the grass rolling and laughing. Bernadette watched the two little girls giggle and play. Her eyes welled up. It’s just the hormones, she told h
erself. But it was more than that. She missed the days when life was so carefree. She worried about the baby in her belly. And the short fling she’d had when her husband was on another mission. She wasn’t sure who’s baby she carried. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She wasn’t sure of much these days, only that she had a tendency to cry a lot. She took another drink of beer.

  The two little girls ran up onto the porch and leaned against the banister.

  “Mommy, Lizzy has an imaginary friend. He lives upstairs,” Vicki nudged Elizabeth in the side and giggled.

  “He’s not imaginary, I told you, he’s real.”

  “A friend is a friend, and you can never have too many friends,” Bernadette said on the exhale of smoke. “What’s your friend’s name?”

  “David,” Elizabeth said, matter-of-factly. He plays jacks with me in the hall upstairs,” the little girl’s deep sable eyes sparkled.

  “David is a nice name. You girls go on and play now,” Bernadette finished the beer and got up to get another.

  “Dem your girls?” a strange voice called out to Bernadette. She stopped with her hand on the screen door and turned to look. The man leaned over the chain link fence. A cigarette clung to his bottom lip and his unshaven dirty face grinned up at her. A large animal tooth hung from a soiled cord of leather around his neck.

  “What’s it to you?” Bernadette muttered rubbing her belly. Something about the strange man made her skin crawl.

  “Pretty lady, two pretty little girls, and look like anotha’ on the way? Where be daddy?”

  Bernadette felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle. “Girls, inside. Now!” she ordered in a stern voice.

  Vicki and Elizabeth glanced over at the man who clung to the chain link, then stomped, grumbling, into the apartment house. Bernadette stepped inside and closed the screen door tightly behind her. She watched the girls race up the stair case as she eased into her front apartment pulling the door closed.

  Who was he? Did her husband send someone to spy on her? Did LeRoy suspect this child wasn’t his? Her mind reeled with confusion and fury. She rushed into the cramped bathroom and vomited into the toilet. Bernadette fell to her knees and hung her head over the porcelain bowl. Tears fell into the water where her breakfast now floated. She sobbed and wiped her mouth with a towel that hung on the edge of the tub. The smell made her vomit again. She pulled the towel off the tub and wiped her whole face with it. She leaned back against the cool of the bathtub and cried.