other.”
“Did Davis mix with anyone here that you know?”
“No, never. He came and went and minded his own business, so it seemed. Of course, God only knows what he was doing during his time off in other parts of town.”
“Did you ever see him drunk or doped up?”
“Oh, no. I would have fired him if I had.”
“No friends ever dropped by to see him?”
“Not that I ever saw.”
“How about Harris? Any friends there?”
“You know, I never did see anyone. That’s strange, but I guess they both were loners. I’d never thought of that before.”
I walked over to the bedroom window. The light was pretty dim because of the brick wall.
“Isn’t that a shame? There used to be a pretty view out that window years ago. But they built that mess out there-that storage rental place. That’s when people started trespassing to use the pool late at night; there were some ugly incidents, as I’m sure some of your people would remember. That’s why they built the wall. The view was ruined anyway, so I suppose it doesn’t matter.”
I drew the curtains. Something blocked them from closing all the way, leaving a two-inch gap. I tugged at the curtain cord several times without success.
“What are you doing?” The nervousness was back in his voice.
“The curtains don’t close all the way,” I pulled at them with my hands and finally reached up to feel for the mechanism along the top, searching for what was blocking it.
“I’ll be a little angry if you break that, you know. You’re only here because I was nice enough to let you in. I’ll get someone in to fix that later.”
I found what I was looking for and worked it loose. It was a paper clip, bent over to form a bumper between the two ends of the curtain mechanism. I pulled the cord again and the gap disappeared.
“I’ve got work to do. Ar sorkthe curte you finished here?”
I leaned against the wall, twirling the paper clip between my fingers. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. “Not quite. Do you have a proprietary interest in this?” I stopped the twirling and held it up before him.
“What do you mean?”
“Is this yours?”
He let out a short laugh. “What do you mean? You just found it there. It can’t be mine.”
“Unless you put it there to keep the curtains apart.” He didn’t answer.
“Is that what you did?”
“Of course not.”
“It’s a simple thing to verify if the tenants of this particular apartment have always been attractive young single women, at least while you’ve been here.”
“That’s not true.”
“You want me to find out?”
He backtracked. “Even if it was-so what?”
“You’re a peeper, Mr. Boyers.”
“That’s a lie. You can’t prove that.” His face was no picture of righteous indignation. He looked more like an actor mouthing lines without meaning.
“Your bosses won’t ask for proof if I give them a call about you. Nor will your wife, for that matter. I am a cop, after all.”
He stared at me; I watched him. I thought I’d let him stew a little just for the hell of it. He finally sat down on the edge of the bed. “What are you going to do?”
“Do you admit to being a peeper?” He nodded.
“Answer me.”
“Yes.” The voice was a whisper. “For how long?”
“A long time.”
“Are there other apartments, or is this one it?”
“This is it. It’s the only one with a window like that.”
“So what’s your preference? When they’re taking showers? Going to bed? Making love? What is it?”
He covered his face with his hands. His glasses fell off and bounced on the rug. “Come on, Mr. Boyers, let’s not drag this out.”
“I watched whenever I could. If they kept to a routine, it made it easier.”
“Did you watch Kimberly Harris?”
“Yes. I watched them all.”
“On the night she was killed?”
“No. My wife wasn’t well that week, so I didn’t go out.”
“What can you tell me about her?”
He took his hands away and looked up at me, confused. “What do you mean?”
“You spent hours studying a woman dress and undress, bathe herself, go to the bathroom, put on a nightgown. Surely you formed an opinion about her. What kind of woman do you think she was?”
He picked his glasses back up and slowly put them on, meditatively. “She was the most beautiful. She knew it, too. The one who’s in here now, she’s just a grown up high-school girl-pretty, but normal. Kimberly was special. Watching her was like watching a dirty movie almost. She caressed herself-when she showered, when she put on baby powder. She wore dainty things underneath that no one else could appreciate, lace panties, sheer nightgowns. When she went to bed, it was as if she was expecting someone, she was so sexy, but no one ever came-they weren’t supposed to. She did all those things for herself. She was the only one I ever watched who masturbated.
“Lying on the bed… It was something she prepared for, sometimes oiling herself. Sex was like some kind of special thing with her, something private she did for herself. She was the most beautiful thing I ever saw.”
“But always alone.”
He turned his head toward me as if I’d just stepped into the room. “Yes. I never saw her with anyone.” He sighed deeply and closed his eyes for a moment. “So what happens now?”
“Do you have any vacancies?”
“A couple.”
“Tell what’s-her-name here that you need to work on the apartment-something major enough that she has to move to another unit permanently. Then have this window bricked up or have frosted blocks put in. It also wouldn’t hurt if you got a little counseling. What you do for a pastime isn’t only sick, it could get you into some real trouble.”
He stood up. I noticed he was shaking slightly. “And that’s it? You’re not going to tell anyone?”
“Not this time. But you better not give me any reason to regret it. If you ever get caught, I’ll make damn sure you end up in very hot water. You’re in my debt. Don’t forget it.”
I left him with a look of stunned disbelief on his face.
11
I drove into the Dunkin' Donuts parking lot before showing up at the office. Dunkin’ Donuts is not my usual breakfast fare, but I was feeling flattened enough that a high-voltage sugar fix seemed the only way to go. It never works, of course-it just makes your system do back flips, especially on top of an aspirin appetizer. But at this point the mere act of chewing was the only way I had of showing the world I was still awake, or alive. I bought three cream-filled twists and a coffee. Back flips or not, they tasted great going down.
As things turned out, I shouldn’t have worried about staying awake. As soon as I walked in, Max handed me a note from Murphy. It said, “Right now.” She’d read it too, of course, so instead of waving as usual, she blew me a
