The Neighbor

“’Kay,” the kid whispered. Snap, snap, snap with the elastic.

“So.” Miller pushed the mini-recorder closer to Aidan, got down to business. He held the kid’s attention, so D.D. seized the opportunity to roam the apartment. Without a warrant, she was restricted to only things in plain sight, but it never hurt to recon. She hit the bedroom, wrinkling her nose at the smell.

“Have you ever met Sandra Jones?” Miller was asking in the front room.

D.D. spied rumpled bedding, a pile of dirty clothes-mostly blue jeans and white T-shirts-a trash can that held used Kleenex. A corner of a magazine peeked out from underneath the mattress. Porn, she guessed, because what else would you hide under the mattress?

“Yeah, I mean, I met her. But I didn’t know her, know her,” Aidan was saying. “I saw her sometimes on the street, playing with her kid. But I always crossed to the other side of the street. Swear it! And yeah, okay, I remember her coming into the garage, now that you mention it. But I don’t work the counter. I’m in the back and only the back. Vito knows the terms of my parole.”

“What color is her hair?” Miller asked.

Kid shrugged. “Blonde.”

“Eyes?”

“Dunno.”

“She’s young. Close to your age.”

“Now, see, I don’t even know that much.”

D.D. wanted to gag. She used the tip of her pen to ease out a bit more of the magazine. Penthouse, it looked to her. No big deal. She let it go, but already wondered what else Aidan Brewster might have under his mattress.

“Talk to me about Wednesday night,” Miller was saying. “Did you go out, meet with your friends? Do anything in particular?”

D.D. eased over to what appeared to be a closet. She saw more clothes poking out, some white socks, dirty underwear. Door was open four inches. She decided to make it six. She saw a chain dangling down from the ceiling, and used it to click on the overhead light.

“I don’t have friends,” Aidan protested. “I don’t go to bars, I don’t hang out with buddies. I watch TV, mostly reruns. I like Seinfeld, maybe a little Law & Order.”

“Tell me what you saw Wednesday night.”

“Seinfield was master of his domain,” Aidan said dryly. “And McCoy prosecuted some cult leader guy who thought he was God.”

D.D. saw more piles of clothes. She frowned, withdrew, then paused. She glanced again at the piles of dirty laundry on the bedroom floor, then the pile of clothing in the closet. How many pairs of blue jeans and white T- shirts could one guy own?

Plain sight, plain sight, plain sight.

She kicked her foot into the closet pile, pressing down. And sure enough, hit something hard. Metal, she thought. Rectangular. Decent-sized. Computer? Lockbox? House safe? A computer would violate the terms of the kid’s parole. Interesting.

She drew back again, chewing her lower lip, debating her options.

“Don’t be yanking my chain,” Miller was saying now. “Because I can look up what aired Wednesday night. You get this wrong, we’re gonna be calling you down to the station, and this time, we won’t be friends.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Aidan exploded.

“Woman vanishing on your block is entirely coincidental?”

“She’s a grown woman. Come on, you’ve seen my record. What the hell would I want with a mom?”

“Ah, but she’s a young, pretty mom. Same age as yourself. Lonely, too. Husband that works nights. Maybe she just wanted to talk. Maybe it started out with you two as friends. Did she learn what you had done, Aidan? Find out about your first love and freak out?”

“I never spoke to her! Ask anyone. If that woman was outside, she was with her kid. And I stay clear of kids!”

“You lost your job, Aidan. Must make you mad.”

“Hell yeah!”

“Everyone thinks you’re good for this. Got a garage full of guys who want to make an example of you. I don’t blame you for being agitated.”

“Hell yeah!”

“Wrist hurt?” Miller asked abruptly.

“What?”

“Wrist hurt? You’ve been snapping away for ten minutes now. Tell me about the elastic, Aidan. Is that part of your program? Snap the elastic every time you’re thinking impure thoughts involving little kids? My, my, you’re having an impure day.”

“Hey, knock it off! You don’t know nothin’ about nothin’. I’m not into kids. I was never into kids.”

“So a twenty-three-year-old mom isn’t out of the question?”

“Stop it! You’re putting words into my mouth. I fell in love with the wrong girl, okay? That’s all I did wrong. I fell in love with the wrong girl, and now my life’s shit. Nothing more, nothing less.”

D.D. came out of the bedroom. Her sudden reappearance startled Aidan, and she could tell that for the first time he realized she’d left the room and where she must have gone. His gaze dropped immediately to the floor. She liked it when liars were predictable.

“Hey, Aidan. How ’bout giving me a tour of your room?”

He gave her a bitter smile. “Looks to me like you already got one.”

“Yeah, but I’m curious about something. How ’bout we look together?”

“No.”

“No?” She feigned surprise. “Now, Aidan, you were doing such a nice job of cooperating. Like Miller said, sooner we clear you on this, sooner we can pass the word along in the community. I’m sure Vito’d love to hear his favorite mechanic can return to work.”

Aidan didn’t reply. He’d stopped snapping the band. His gaze was zipping around the room instead, around and around and around. He was looking for the out. Not physically. But the lie, the excuse. The magic words that would make his problem go away.

He couldn’t come up with any, and she watched his shoulders hunch as if steeling for the blow.

“I want you to go now,” he said.

“Aidan-” Miller began.

“You’re not going to help me,” the kid interjected bluntly. “We all know you won’t, so cut the bullshit. I’m a pervert to you, too. And it doesn’t really matter that I’ve served my time or that I’ve stuck with the program and the terms of my parole. Once a pervert, always a pervert, isn’t that how it goes? I didn’t touch the woman. I told Vito that, I told the husband that-”

“You told the husband that?” D.D. interjected.

“Yeah.” Aidan raised his head belligerently. “I had a little chat with the husband. He seemed mighty interested that a registered sex offender lived down the street. In fact,” now the kid’s gaze was calculating, “I bet he told you all about me.”

D.D. didn’t answer.

“It’s pretty convenient for him, don’t you think? Why, you being here, questioning me, means you can’t be there, questioning him. Yeah, I’d say my presence is the best thing that ever happened to Mr. Jones. Wonder how long before he tells the press about me, hmmm? That’ll get them good and excited.

“So, come to think about it, it’s not just in my best interest to be cleared of these ugly accusations, it’s in your best interest as well, isn’t it? ’cause as long as you’re looking at me, you can never move against him. And I bet he knows that. Cool cat, Mr. Jones. I bet he knows an awful lot of things.”

D.D. didn’t say a word. She kept her features smooth, composed. Just her hand fisted behind her back.

“Show me your closet, Aidan.”

“No thank you.”