“Thought what?” Jenna said. “Have you been bitten?”
“No, Jenna. No.”
But Jenna was shaking her head emphatically. “You have got to move. Get out of there. I’ll help you pack.”
“Jenna. Stop. You’re freaking me out.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but you
The waiter set down two green salads with grilled chicken and a basket of bread. “Enjoy, ladies.”
Jenna kept her eyes locked on Susan. “I mean, you’ve seen the news, right? These things are
“Jenna.”
“I knew this girl, Katie Wilkes, she was in
“OK, Jenna. Thank you. But seriously, like I said, I don’t think it’s bedbugs.”
Jenna took a bite of her salad. “What does Alex say?”
Susan took a bite of hers. “He doesn’t think so, either.”
Jenna sighed, picked up her BlackBerry, and began to scroll through it. “I’m going to give you this number. For this woman named Dana Kaufmann. She’s an exterminator. Pest control, whatever they call it.”
“Jenna.”
“My friend Ron, who works at Actor’s Equity, he made everyone put this number in their phones after they found bedbugs backstage at the ATA. Apparently this lady is, like, the exterminator to the stars. She sprayed Maggie Gyllenhaal and Peter Sarsgaard’s house, in Park Slope.”
“OK.”
“Will you call her?”
“If I need to.”
Jenna let the subject drop, and they passed the rest of the meal more pleasantly, catching up on mutual friends and books each had recently read. Jenna said she would come out for a visit soon, and Susan promised to see the show she’d just started rehearsing, a new musical by Tom Kitt, one of the guys who wrote
When they were hugging goodbye, Jenna clutched her tighter than usual and then drew back and looked her in the eyes.
“Oh, and
Susan took the 2 train back, so she could avoid the creepy shrine on Livingston Street. When she got home it was 1:45 in the afternoon; Emma would be upstairs, already napping, and Marni would be inside, sprawled on the sofa, reading or taking a nap of her own. Susan stood outside the house with her hands on her hips, staring up at the dark shape of the house against the sky, in just the posture she had discovered Andrea in the other day. When she was about to climb the steps to go inside, the red front door swung open, and Louis emerged at the top of the stoop, whistling lightly and carrying a hammer in one hand. When he saw her, he stopped and squinted, as if taking a moment to remember who she was, before calling out a greeting.
“Well, hello there, Susan. How ya doin’?”
As he trotted down the stoop toward her, Susan stayed put, glancing at the little door beneath the steps.
“Louis, can I ask you a question?”
The old man stopped at the bottom of the steps and smiled. “Sure thing.”
“Has Andrea ever had bedbugs?”
Louis came down the last step, and they were both on the sidewalk now, at the foot of the stoop. He leaned his bulk against the short wrought-iron fence and scratched his big bald head.
“No. No, I don’t believe she has,” he said slowly. “Not that I know of, anyway And if anyone would know, it’s me.”
“And what about the previous tenants. Jessica Spender, and whatever his name.”
“Jack. That fella’s name was Jack Barnum. I remember it, because it’s like the circus, you know. Barnum. My kids always loved the circus. When they were little we used to take ’em to the Midtown Tunnel in the middle of the night, to watch ’em bring the elephants across. You ever do that?”
“No. But, Louis — Jessica and Jack, did
“Nope. Boy, those kids didn’t need ’em, though. They had plenty of other problems.” Louis shifted his weight, bobbled the hammer in his palm. “Why you asking all this? You think you might have a problem?”
“No. No, I’m just — you know, it’s in the news and all.”
“Sure.”
They stood in silence for a minute, and then Louis nodded and stood up. “All right. You take care now.”
He began to amble down the street, but Susan wasn’t ready to go inside.
“Louis?”
He stopped on the sidewalk and turned back toward her; cheerful still, happy to help, but puzzled, maybe just the slightest bit put out. A man ready to proceed with his day.
“Yes?”
Instead she found herself asking, “What’s in the basement, Louis?”
Louis’s gaze hardened. “Look, now. I already apologized for scaring your girl.”
“I know. I’m just curious.”
“Curious, huh?” He stared at her, taking her measure, and Susan thought he might just walk away. But then he shrugged and walked back over to where she was standing, spoke in a low, careful voice. “This is between you and me, understand?”
She nodded.
“Strictly between you and me. Now, like I said, Howard killed himself before his blood could kill him first. What I didn’t tell you, what I didn’t
He leaned in, and Susan did, too; their foreheads were nearly touching. “He did it here in the house. Right down in the basement, real late one night.”
“Jesus.”
Louis straightened up and glanced over his shoulder at Andrea’s dark first-floor window, before continuing in an urgent whisper. “This is all part of … part of why I’m a little concerned about Andrea, see. After it was over, you know, she never … never let anyone go down there and, you know,
Susan grimaced. She was feeling warm and tired, the wine from lunch catching up with her.
“Most I could do, after they came and took his body away, before she shooed me off, was put the damn hunting rifle back in its trunk. Figured at least get the thing out of sight, so it wasn’t hanging around taunting her whenever she went down there for a roll of paper towels. Rest of the basement’s just as it was on the day, so far as I know. Goddamn horror show, pardon my language.”
“What do you mean, so far as you know? You never—”
Louis shook his head. “She won’t let me down there. Because she knows if I do go down there, I’m gonna get down on my hands and knees and clean up what poor Howard did to himself. It just isn’t right, leaving a scene
