than me.”
“I guess I’m just old-fashioned.”
“Sometimes I wish I could be old-fashioned too. But that’s not the world I live in.”
“So, the Broomes?” asked Robie again.
“My parents have known them for years. Like Cheryl said, Ida works in a hair salon. I’ve gone there with my mom. Ida would cut my hair for free and my mom would bake stuff for her. My mom is a good cook.” She paused. “ Was a good cook.”
“And her husband?” Robie said quickly, hoping to move her off this thought. “Cheryl said he had some job with the city.”
“Not sure about that,” answered Julie.
“Anything unusual about them?”
“They seemed pretty normal to me, but I didn’t know them all that well.”
“Then I’ll guess we’ll just have to ask them.” If they’re still alive, he thought. “How did they meet your parents?”
“I think Mr. Broome was a friend of Dad’s. I’m not sure what the exact connection was.”
“You think they could have anything to do with what happened to your parents?”
“I wouldn’t think so. I mean, she works in a hair salon and they eat in crummy diners. It’s not like they’re international spies or anything.”
“Not that you know.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Spies don’t usually look like spies. That’s sort of the point.”
“You look like a spy.”
“That’s good, because I’m not.”
“So you say.”
They drove in silence for a few seconds.
“So are you sleeping with her?” she asked again.
“Why the hell do you care?”
“I’m just naturally curious.”
“Yeah, that I get. But even if I were sleeping with her I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Why?”
“Something called being a gentleman.”
“Now you really sound old.”
“Compared to you I’m ancient,” replied Robie.
CHAPTER
43
The apartment building had been built in the sixties but had been rehabbed. Robie could tell this from the new awning out front, the cleansed brick, and the fresh paint on the trim. As he watched from the car with Julie, a man opened the door by touching a plastic key card against an electronic receiver housed next to the entrance. The door clicked open and he walked inside. The door clicked shut behind him.
Julie glanced at Robie.
“What now?”
“You know the apartment number?”
“No, I just passed the place one time with my mom. She told me the Broomes lived there. I’ve never been to their apartment.”
“Okay. Give me a sec.”
He slipped out of the car and hustled across the street to beat some oncoming traffic. He gazed at a call box set in the wall next to the door and pushed the button.
A voice came on. “Yes?”
“I’m here to see Leo and Ida Broome.”
“Hold on.”
The voice came back on about twenty seconds later. “Called their apartment. No answer.”
“You sure you called the right apartment? Number 305?”
“No, it’s 410.”
“Oh, okay, thanks.”
Robie looked around to see if there was a surveillance camera, but saw none.
A couple was approaching him. Elderly. The woman had a scarf and a cane. In her free hand was a plastic grocery bag. The man was skimming along with the use of a walker that had tennis balls stuck on the ends of the front poles.
Robie watched as the woman pulled out a key card.
“You need any help, ma’am?” asked Robie.
She looked at him suspiciously. “No, we’re just fine by ourselves.”
“Okay.” Robie stepped back, waiting for her to open the door with the card.
She stopped and stared at him. “Can I help you, young man?”
Robie started to say something when he heard her voice.
“Dad, I told you to wait for me.”
Robie turned and watched Julie run up to him. She had her knapsack slung over her shoulder. She looked at the elderly couple and smiled.
“Hi, I’m Julie. Do you live in this building? My dad and I are thinking about moving here. We came to see one of the apartments. My mom’s supposed to meet us here.” She turned to Robie. “But she called and said she’s running late. And she has the key card the rental agent gave her. We’ll just have to wait outside.” She turned back to the couple. “This’ll be the first time I’ll have a bathroom to myself. You promised, right, Dad?”
Robie nodded. “Anything for my little girl.”
The old man smiled. “Nice to have some young blood in the place. I’m feeling old.”
“You are old,” said the woman. “Really old.” She looked at Julie kindly. “Where are you moving here from, honey?”
“Jersey,” said Julie promptly. “I hear it’s warmer down here.”
“What part of Jersey?” asked the woman. ‘That’s where we’re from.”
“Wayne,” said Julie. “It’s nice there, but my dad got transferred.”
“Wayne is very nice,” said the woman.
Julie looked at Robie. “Mom said about forty-five minutes. She’s stuck in traffic.”
“Everybody’s stuck in traffic in this area,” said the old man. “Hell, you can be a pedestrian in this town and get stuck in traffic.”
“Come on, we’ll let you in,” said the woman. “No sense you standing around out here.”
Robie took the woman’s bag of groceries and they rode the elevator up to the sixth floor, where they left the old couple. The woman gave Julie a cookie from the bag and pinched her cheek.
“You look just like my great-granddaughter. Hope we see a lot of you if you move in here.”
Robie and Julie rode the elevator back down to the fourth floor and got off.
“Nice work back there,” said Robie. “They might have tripped you up, though, being from Jersey too.”
“I’ve been to Wayne. First rule, don’t say you’re from someplace you’ve never been.”
“Good rule.”
They found Apartment 410. It was at the end of a hall with no other door facing it. Robie scanned the hall for a surveillance camera but found none. He knocked on 410 three times without an answer.
‘Turn around and face out into the hall,” he told Julie.
“Are you going to pick the lock?”
