to hurry...'
'Oh, um, Rikki, I'm sorry,' she said. 'I forgot to call you back--'
'Please...come...I'm so afraid.'
Perplexed, Sydney wasn't sure whether or not Rikki was just being her old manipulative self. Whenever she used to call for money or a favor, Rikki had always sounded as if on the verge of crying--or dying. The voice Sydney had heard on the phone yesterday had sounded weak and sickly. But this one almost had a death rattle to it. If Rikki was putting on an act, it was a pretty damn good one.
'You do sound very weak. Maybe you should call an ambulance, Rikki,' she said. 'Or let me call one for you.'
'No, please...I'm scared. Just--just come over, Sydney. Can't you, please?'
Sydney glanced at Kyle, standing by the sink and staring at her.
'Okay, Rikki,' she said, a bit exasperated. 'I'll come by. In the meantime, can you call a neighbor to come sit with you? If you're really that weak, someone else will need to buzz me in. I'm leaving right now.' She paused. 'Rikki?'
There was no response. It sounded like she might have dropped the phone.
'Rikki?' Flustered, Sydney hung up.
'Is that Rikki Cosgrove?' Kyle asked. 'Icky Rikki?'
Grabbing her purse from the kitchen chair, Sydney nodded. 'I forgot to tell you, she called yesterday. She sounds really sick.'
'She always sounded sick.'
Sydney checked to make sure she had her address book in her purse. 'I need to get over there. She says she's dying.'
'Oh, yeah.' Kyle rolled his eyes. 'Better make sure you have your checkbook with you. That's what she really wants.'
Scowling at him, Sydney pulled her checkbook out of her purse to show him that she had it with her. 'Just do me a favor and take my son to the beach. I won't be long.'
'Sucker,' he murmured.
Before she'd left to go see some sick old lady, his mom had told him to wear sunscreen, not to wander off too far with his new friend, and to keep checking in with Uncle Kyle.
Wearing a blue T-shirt with Bart Simpson on it, and khaki shorts over his yellow trunks, Eli walked alongside his uncle toward the beach. He had a beach blanket, sunscreen, and a paperback copy of
Eli thought about confessing to Uncle Kyle that he had no desire to go to the beach today, that he really wanted to go to the library and find out more about the murder-suicide in their apartment back in 1974. But Eli didn't want it getting back to his mother.
Madison Park Beach wasn't quite as crowded and noisy as it had been yesterday, and it was easier to see that certain people flocked to certain areas. Gay men seemed to occupy the majority of the north section. The section south of the beach house was crowded with families, kids, and teenagers. The middle section became sort of a smorgasbord of people. The water was choppy, and waves crashed against the concrete steps leading down to the lake. Only one boom box in the area was blaring, and it competed with all the screams and laughter from the swimmers.
The sun beating down on them, Eli and Kyle stopped in the north area amid many a tanned and toned male body. 'So I guess you want to pitch our blankets here, huh?' Eli warily asked his uncle.
'Okay, okay, I get it,' his uncle said. 'You don't want to sit in Homo Heights. Well, I'm not dying to camp out amid all the families with those wet kids running around screaming. The beach is one of the only places where I really can't give someone a filthy look if their kid is making too much noise. Let's compromise. We can sit in the middle section.'
Eli squinted over toward all the families in the south section. 'Hey, I think I see my buddy from yesterday,' he lied. He waved in that direction. 'That's him, that's my friend, Earl...'
'Where is he?' his uncle asked. Adjusting his sunglasses, he gazed toward the crowded south section.
Eli kept waving--to nobody. 'He's over by that lady in the purple swimsuit under the umbrella.'
'I still don't see--'
'Can I go sit with him, Uncle Kyle? Please? Then you can sit with the gays.'
'Is he the skinny pale kid in the red trunks?'
'No, he's just a few people over,' Eli lied. He pulled on his uncle's arm. 'It looks like he's going into the water. I need to catch up with him. Please, Uncle Kyle...'
'Okay, fine,' Uncle Kyle nodded. 'I'll be right around here. Check in with me in forty-five minutes.'
'Forty-five minutes?' Eli repeated, crestfallen. It would take almost that long just getting back and forth from the library. 'Give me an hour and a half, at least. How do you expect me to have any fun if you make me check in every forty-five minutes?'
Uncle Kyle lowered his sunglasses for a moment and glared at him. 'Okay, an hour, that's my final offer, bub.' He glanced at his wristwatch. 'And if you don't check in with me by the time the lifeguard announces it's three o'clock, I'll hunt you down and drag you home. Then I'll sic your crazy mother on you. Understand?'
He nodded. 'Okay, Uncle Kyle.' Eli ran toward the south section of the beach. He remembered to wave and even yelled,
Weaving around blankets, dodging and sidestepping all the other beachgoers, Eli kept running until he figured he was out of his uncle's range of vision.
He only had a few minutes to catch the 1:50 bus downtown.
Sydney found Rikki's apartment building on Thirteenth Street in Capitol Hill. It was a slightly run-down, ugly nine-story concrete edifice with old aluminum-frame windows. She found parking close to the building, hurried up to the front door, and found
No answer.
She buzzed the apartment number again. Still nothing.
Sydney caught her own haggard reflection in the finger-print-smudged glass door. She tugged at the handle. Locked. Then she shielded her eyes and moved close to the door. The stark, slightly grimy lobby was empty.
She buzzed a few other apartments on the eighth floor. For a moment, she remembered the first time she'd randomly buzzed the apartments of Rikki Cosgrove's neighbors, trying to alert them about the fire.
'Yes? Who is it?' someone finally answered.
Sydney leaned in close to the intercom. 'I'm trying to get ahold of Rikki Cosgrove in 808. I think she's sick. Could you buzz me in?'
There was no response.
'Hello? Are you--'
The front door let out a low mechanical drone.
'Thank you!' Sydney called--probably to no one. Then she pulled open the door. Hurrying into the lobby, she rang for the elevator. She wasn't sure how to get inside Rikki's apartment if Rikki wasn't answering the intercom. Maybe this was no false alarm. Maybe Rikki was seriously ill this time.
It smelled like someone had thrown up in the elevator, which made her ride up seem even longer. As Sydney stepped off on the eighth floor, she saw an older woman with glasses, a pink sweatsuit, and a three-pronged cane standing in the hallway. She was knocking on the door marked 808. 'Rikki!' she called. 'It's Arlene from next door! Can you hear me?'
Approaching the woman, Sydney noticed a hearing aid in her ear. 'Aren't you having any luck?' she asked.
Startled, the old woman turned and gaped at her.
'Rikki phoned me about twenty minutes ago,' Sydney explained to the woman--loudly. 'Is the building manager in? Is there anyone who might have a passkey?'
Arlene shook her head. 'I already tried calling them.'
Sydney pounded on the door, and rattled the knob. 'Rikki!' she yelled. 'Rikki, it's Sydney Jordan!'
