After Midnight

Then stood again, holding my breath and glancing up and down the corridor.

Nothing happened.

I took a deep breath, sighed with relief, and got back to work.

Having dropped the case, I’d lost track of the third key.

All three “door” keys—including the two failures—looked pretty much alike.

So I picked one at random.

As I aimed it for the lock hole, the door swung open in front of my face.

11

APARTMENT TWELVE

A young woman inside the room frowned out at me. Maybe “frown” isn’t the right word, since she didn’t seem angry. She looked concerned or confused.

God only knows how I must’ve looked.

I felt as if the floor had dropped out from under me.

What’s she doing here?

Nobody’s supposed to be here!

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“I…I must have the wrong apartment, or…”

“This is twelve,” she said, then glanced at the number on the door as if to make sure of it.

She must’ve just gotten out of bed. She had a crease on her cheek, her short blond hair was mussed, and she wore wrinkled pajamas.

She was probably two or three years younger than me.

And beautiful.

Not exotic, glamorous beautiful.

Wholesome, girl-next-door beautiful, like an Iowa cheerleader.

I would’ve given my left arm to look half as good as this gal.

“Where are you trying to go?” she asked.

“Maybe I’m in the wrong building.”

She shrugged.

“Is this 645 Little Oak Lane?”

Why hadn’t I said 465? She would’ve told me, “Oh, no, this is 645. I’m afraid you do have the wrong building.” And that would’ve been the end of the situation.

But I was curious, for one thing. I wanted to find out what was going on.

For another thing, the damage was already done. She’d seen me.

And I didn’t know what to do about it.

After hearing the address, she nodded and looked more confused than before. “You seem to be in the right place, but…”

“Doesn’t Tony live here?” I asked.

“Tony?”

“Yeah, Tony.” I tried to remember his last name. “Romano.”

“What?” Now, she seemed confused and surprised. “Tony Romano?”

“Is this his apartment?”

“No. This is my apartment.”

“But you know him, don’t you?” I asked.

“Sure. Do you?”

“He gave me this address.”

“What for?”

“He said he lived here. And that…I should come over tonight. He gave me his keys. See?” I held up the key case in front of her. “I was supposed to let myself in. And wait for him.”

“Huh?”

I shrugged.

“But he doesn’t live here,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“This isn’t his place. It’s mine. He lives over on Washington Avenue.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, all right. I used to spend half my life over there. Why on earth did he give you my address?”

“I don’t know.”

But I suddenly had a pretty good idea how I’d gotten the wrong address—and who she was.

“Are you Judy?” I asked.

“Yeah?” She said it softly, like a question.

I put on a big smile. “You’re Tony’s girlfriend!”

“Not anymore. But yeah. We were…” She shrugged.

“It’s nice to meet you. My name’s Alice.” I held out my hand, and she shook it.

“Hi, Alice,” she said.

“So, why did he give me your address?” I asked.

“I have no idea. It’s weird. But Tony can be weird, sometimes. Why don’t you come on in? Maybe you should call him, or something.” She opened the door wider and I stepped into her apartment.

Only a single lamp was on. It didn’t do a very good job. It cast a yellowish light that left corners of the living room in shadows.

I looked around and didn’t see anybody.

From the looks of the furniture, Judy wasn’t exactly rich. She had an old armchair, a sofa with threadbare cushions, a few lamps and small tables, and bookshelves against most of the walls. The shelves were crammed with books, mostly paperbacks.

After shutting the door, she said, “Tony does oddball stuff, sometimes.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

“Isn’t that one of his shirts you’re wearing?”

I forced a smile.

Wearing his jeans and shoes, too.

She wasn’t likely to recognize them, though. Most blue jeans and brown loafers look pretty much alike. Besides, I’d customized Tony’s jeans.

“I’m just borrowing his shirt for the night,” I told her. “Mine got spilled on.”

“So you saw him tonight?” She didn’t sound suspicious, just curious.

“Yeah, we had dinner together.”

“How’s he doing?”

“He really misses you.”

She winced slightly. “I miss him, too. Sometimes. Not that I’ll ever go back to him. Would you like something to drink? A Pepsi or a beer or something?”

“Okay, sure.”

“How about a beer?”

“Great!”

Being careful not to touch anything, I followed her into the kitchen.

She turned on a light and went to the refrigerator. The top of her kitchen table was hidden under a computer and piles of books and papers.

“So, how do you know Tony?” she asked.