Chapter Four

 

Blanche stopped at Publix grocery store and bought milk on her way home and figured she was in for the day. Darn Canadians and all the other snowbirds in traffic drove her nuts. She sat out on her screened in balcony that faced towards the ocean, only she couldn’t see it because it was a mile away. The condo was Seaside in name only, not in reality. She lit up a cigarette and contemplated the high rise condos across the parking lot. She could hear the mild breeze rattling the palmetto palms that dotted the parking lot corners below. The flowering shrubs around the pool were sprouting red and white flowers at the moment, and she imagined she could smell them even on the fourth floor.

The gas station robberies and her 209 may not be connected. She didn’t want to think that someone would bring anything unsavory into the building. It was hard enough to keep a nice condo going in southern Florida with crime and high turn over of residents, never mind having to worry if you had a burglar on the loose or a robber living down the hall. Her thoughts were swirling the ideas in her head. She was uncomfortable with the direction her thoughts took. Maybe she and Al could follow Miss 209 tonight. Just the idea of going out at night made her light another cigarette.

Night being the operative word. Harry, her husband, God rest his soul, when he departed this world, left her with a strange phobia. She’d developed a hyper fear of the dark. She knew it was odd, and it soaked her energy at times.

She just wasn’t going to put up with getting her hard earned funds taken from her own home without some further action though. It wasn’t just for her sake either. The condo needed protection. She shook her bouffant hair from side to side, then padded inside to the telephone, her tool.

“Al, let’s follow her tonight.”

“You want to do a little reconnaissance, huh?”

She crushed out the filter of her cigarette in a crystal purple ashtray she kept by the phone. “In the car, she does drive, doesn’t she?”

“Actually, I’m not sure. If it’s on foot, you’re on your own. I don’t think you’re going to find out much, but I could use a little adventure, you know?” Al had no idea of her phobia. No one did. Knowing Al, he’d try to play Prince Charming to the rescue.

“What time has she been going out? About 11 p.m.?”

“That’s about right. Sometime while I’m getting ready for bed anyway.”

“You make some coffee and meet me at 10:30 p.m. We’ll watch the door and the parking lot.”

“Yes, sir.” Al chuckled. “I think you’re barking up the wrong tree this time, but it should be fun to tag along and say I told you so.”

“You’re the one lurking around by the elevator on the second floor.”

“I just wanted to get a look at the new resident, not convict her of a crime.”

“Let’s hope there’s no crime to speak of tonight.”

Blanche surveyed her closet. It was full of nylon designer gym suits, white elastic waist shorts and lavender shirts. She selected a black gym suit with gold stars, one of her tamer color combos. Should be good for reconnaissance as Al called it. She retrieved her county and south Florida maps, just in case. She’d like a belt of something to brave the dark, but she’d have to stiff upper lip it since Al didn’t drive anymore. She could feel sweat forming on her upper lip. She patted it dry and added some lipstick. This seemed like a bad idea now, but no backing out and losing face.

She knew it wasn’t safe for a lone woman in the parking lot after dark just from statistics; the phobia wasn’t as logical as that unfortunately. Darkness could be inside and outside of a person. She fortified herself with several deep breaths to calm down. She was on a mission and she had Al. He could beat the bad guys with his canes.

They met at the backdoor by the pool and Al shimmied on his canes out to the car with a thermos under his arm and binoculars around his neck. Blanche lit a cigarette.

“I haven’t seen her yet, so our timing is good. I’m going to pull up on the side of the building, so we can see if she comes out the other way,” Blanche said.

“Good thinking, sergeant. What if she sees us? Do we pretend to be kids making out?”

Blanche rolled her eyes.

“You always smoke more when we go out at night.” He waved his hat at a cloud. “What’s with that?”

“You’re imagining things, old man.”

“Hey!”

They didn’t have long to wait. Ms. 209 came out and got into a beat up ancient Toyota and took off.

“So that’s what she’s driving. Here take this paper and write down the license number,” Blanche bossed.

“I can’t make it out. You know?”

“That’s why we don’t let you drive, Al. It’s BY9 541...I think. I’ll double check at the next stoplight.” Concentrating on the Toyota in the streetlights relieved her racing heartbeat. It felt good to do something about the robbery. At least that’s what she told herself.

They followed the Toyota to an industrial park. A couple cars pulled into a warehouse parking lot, so did 209. Blanche slid up on the street outside the fence and shut the car lights off. She was glad for a nearby streetlight to split some of the dark. Al trained his binoculars on the girl.

“What do you see, Al?”

“She’s just going into the building. Probably works here.” He pulled the binoculars down and gave Blanche a funny grin as 209 disappeared into the warehouse.

“Let’s drink our coffee and see if anything happens.”

“Happens? She’s going to work, what do you think happens at work? You haven’t been retired that long, you know?”

Blanche ignored him and took the lid off the Thermos.

“I shoulda brought some cards. You know?”

After a few minutes silence, Blanche focused the binoculars on the building, scanning. She heard Al’s heavy breathing and realized he was asleep. So much for the coffee. She steadied her shaking elbows on the car door. In the second loading bay of the warehouse, she saw 209 and another woman. They didn’t speak at all. It struck Blanche as odd. The beginning of work was always chitchat time especially for the women. She scanned the other bay doors and none of the women were speaking. A truck backed up to the gray dock, and the two women started loading it.

“I guess she really does work here.” It was a relief she wasn’t working the streets or robbing a Sip Trip.

Al jumped. “Of course she does.” He repositioned his fishing hat.

She took another look through the binoculars. “She doesn’t look American, now that I look closer.”

“Nobody in our building looks American anymore. Why should she be any different?”

She turned to look at him making her jumpsuit swish, “Did she say anything when you saw her? Where do you think she’s from?”

“She didn’t say a word. Just ran down the stair well, you know, like a jack rabbit.”

Blanche focused the binoculars again. “She’s pale and gaunt, doesn’t look like a Cuban or South American.”

“But looks don’t mean anything,” Al said.

“She doesn’t have the right look, or dress.”

“She ain’t wearing a dress. You know? Give me those binoculars.” A car of young men with thump-thump music drove by and rattled Blanche’s yellow Lincoln. Time to go.

“I meant clothes, you old grump. It’s time to get you home to bed.”

Blanche drove home with a nodding Al and waved him goodbye out of the elevator. Once in her condo, she couldn’t fall asleep, after the coffee and the stimulation of being “on surveillance.” She sat on her balcony and listened to distant sirens and a hint of the ocean waves that couldn’t be heard during the day. She was glad she didn’t live in the country like where she grew up. The darkness was dense there, but then it had never scared her. City lights comforted her so she wasn’t completely home bound by the darkness.

She would have to call her troublesome son back tomorrow. She wondered if she had no money at all if he would still acknowledge her existence. At least her daughter was a pleasure, but heaven help you if she brought all the grandkids at one time. She was glad they didn’t live next door, trying to tell her what to do everyday or wanting her to babysit every 15 minutes.

She got up to go to bed and saw a car pulling in the drive. It was the Toyota. She checked her watch, 3 a.m., not a very long shift at the warehouse. She thought about going down to the second floor and watching for her to come in, but everyone in the building was deaf or possibly an illegal and wouldn’t want trouble, so no one would come if she called for help, probably just look out the peep holes in their doors. Not that she really thought 209 was a personal danger, but you never know what people will do in the middle of the night.

She remembered the time she followed a woman into the grocery store. Veronique was doing some illegal importing from Guyana, and Blanche wanted to see who she talked to. Veronique had Blanche cornered in the bread department, threatening all kinds of terrible things, most of them in French. As she pushed Blanche back into a rack of bread, packages thumped to the floor. When a stocker came barreling out of the bakery with some day old donuts, he threatened to get a manager if they didn’t take it outside. Veronique left Blanche leaning on the bread rack. She hadn’t gone out in the evenings for two months after that. Blanche knew it just didn’t pay to be somewhere alone especially at night; it could get you into trouble.

As she watched, 209 walked around the building and down the sidewalk, not into the building. Even with her binoculars, Blanche couldn’t keep track of the woman. Blanche bit her lip and considered her chances if she followed. If she ran into trouble, she knew she wouldn’t last long, although she’d make a lot of noise going down. Her volunteer work at the police department gave her a chance to take self defense classes. She hoped it’d hold up if she ever really needed it.

She brushed her teeth and tried to think. She just couldn’t face the mean sidewalks alone. She checked the parking lot again. The wind hadn’t cooled off the night and the humidity hung heavy. It wasn’t long before 209 came strolling back with a gym bag. Blanche was sure she hadn’t had that when she left for her walk. She sighed knowing she wouldn’t be able to figure it out tonight, and she wouldn’t be able to sleep well either thinking about all this. What the heck? You may as well live without regrets, right? Blanche grabbed her keys and ran to the elevator. She punched one. Danger, schmanger. She was just going to the lobby anyway.

Blanche squeezed herself into the far corner of the elevator trying to be inconspicuous. The doors opened on one and 209 automatically got on. She realized that 209 expected it to be empty in the middle of the night. She was a boney woman with dishwater blond hair, taller than Blanche’s 5’0” by several inches.

“Good morning,” Blanche only had one floor of elevator time to find something out.

The girl from 209 nodded, looking like she couldn’t find the exit. She pulled her gym bag closer to her body. It looked flat and empty to Blanche.

“You’re not from around here, huh?” Blanche started to speak louder the way people do to non-English speakers as if volume helps comprehension.

“No.” The doors were opening for the girl to get off. Blanche wanted to hear an accent but, so far, nothing.

“What number are you in?”

She pointed to the right.

“If you need anything, I’m in 414. I help out around here a lot.” The doors were closing again. Blanche put her hand out to catch them.

“You work the night shift?”

“Yeah. Leave me.” She gestured with her hand for Blanche to go and walked off. It sounded more like, yaa, leaf me, but Blanche got the message. Leaf me alone.

Blanche was satisfied. Sometimes a little risk pays off. Definitely the accent was Russian or eastern bloc, that area of the world anyway. Not Cuban or South American. She really needed to start paying better attention to accents she encountered daily in her corner of sunny Florida.