Bai found a parking space on the street in front of Park’s building. The receptionist lived in a run-down, three-story tenement next to an alley. Beige paint peeled away from clapboard siding like sunburned skin. A Laundromat on the ground floor vented damp air redolent with the scent of fabric softener onto the sidewalk.
She got out of the car and was met by the sound of tumbling dryers. The churning hum reverberated through the plate-glass window of the coin-operated laundry. At the corner of the building, Robert pulled open a rickety wooden door and waited.
Park lived on the third floor, two flights up. Wood runners sagged and squeaked in protest as they ascended. The stink of mold, rotted wood, and cooking oil permeated the narrow stairwell.
“Sounds like we’re kicking rats,” Lee quipped as worn treads squealed underfoot.
“It’s cheaper than a burglar alarm,” Bai noted. “There’s no way anyone’s going to sneak up these stairs.”
It was difficult to see in the dimly lit stairwell. By the same token, she surmised they were better off not knowing everything that the dank, narrow space had to offer.
Lee turned to scowl down at Robert, who followed them up the stairs. “How much do you pay Park? Not that it’s any of my business, but you’d think you’d want your employees to be able to afford decent housing.”
Robert sounded sheepish. “You’re right. It isn’t any of your business.” He was silent a moment before adding, “I pay a fair wage.”
Bai wondered what he considered a fair wage.
“It’s the door on the right,” he offered lamely as he pointed to one of two doors on the landing.
“You’ve been here before?” Bai asked.
He shrugged. “This isn’t the first time she’s failed to show up for work.”
She eyed him with curiosity.
“It’s not what you think. She and I have a purely professional relationship.”
“I wasn’t thinking anything of the sort.”
It was a lie. The thought had crossed her mind.
“Methinks he doth protest too much,” added Lee.
Robert didn’t offer a reply. Sniffing at the rank air and ignoring Lee’s taunt, he turned his face away in denial.
Lee stood on the landing to knock on the door while Robert and Bai waited below on the stairs. There was no answer. He knocked again, louder, before trying the door. It was locked.
Lee looked back at her. “What do you want to do?”
“Pick it,” she said. “We need to see if she’s all right.”
“You can’t do that,” Robert protested. “That’s illegal.”
She turned on him with an exasperated look. “I’d suggest you close your eyes and put your hands over your ears. See no evil. Hear no evil.”
Startled by her suggestion, he looked at her. Then, to her surprise, he did precisely what she’d suggested. She turned to Lee, who smiled and shook his head, obviously amused.
Lee made quick work of the lock. It was a simple tumbler that gave way with the slightest prodding. The door swung open to reveal a silent and empty hallway.
Lee entered first. Bai tapped Robert on the shoulder to get his attention before entering the apartment to stand in a small vestibule. Reluctant to enter, Robert hesitated at the doorway. She reached back to pull him in by the flat of his lapel, then slapped the door shut behind him.
“Just stand there and don’t touch anything,” she cautioned.
His face pulled into a grimace as he whispered a reply. “Breaking and entering is a felony. I could be disbarred for this.”
“Why are you whispering?” she asked.
He stared at her mutely.
“Never mind,” she said, running low on patience. “Just stay here while we have a look around.”
“I’ll check the kitchen in the back,” Lee advised her.
A small metal dinette and chairs were visible through the open doorway. Lee walked toward the back of the flat, while she turned right into a small living room. Overstuffed furniture, old and frayed, sat on a threadbare rug. A portable television with a twelve-inch screen rested on a side table. Doilies draped the arms of the furniture, and one sat under the television—obvious attempts to lend an air of hominess. The furnishings were old, but the flat was clean.
“Oh, my!”
Robert’s exclamation got her to turn around. He peered through a doorway on the left. She assumed the doorway led to a bedroom or bathroom. He gripped the wood trim and swayed in place.
“I thought I told you to stay put,” she cautioned as she walked across the room to stand behind him.
Her reprimand didn’t elicit a response. She had to push him aside to gain access to the blocked doorway. When she had a clear view into the gloomy room, she stopped and gasped with surprise.
A nearly naked Park lay across the bed, her only adornment a red silk scarf wrapped tightly around her neck. Her tongue protruded obscenely from blue lips. Eyes stared wide, bulging and red. Folds of fat hung from her flabby limbs and torso—a testament to a sedentary life. A fluffy pink negligee with fake feathers pooled on the floor like a felled bird. A half-empty bottle of bourbon and two glasses sat on the nightstand. The room smelled of urine. Stained sheets beneath her body bore witness to her final humiliation.
Bai’s mind registered the details of the scene in a brief instant. Robert stood at her back, his hand over his mouth as he gagged.
“Out, Robert!” she said forcefully, pushing him out the doorway.
“Lee,” she called, loudly enough to be heard in the kitchen.
She spun Robert around and pushed him toward the exit. He made it halfway down the hall before stopping.
Her voice must have carried some urgency because Lee came from the kitchen with his gun in his hand.
“What is it?” he asked.
Robert was bent over, heaving.
“It’s Park. She’s dead.”
Bai put her hand over her nose to avoid gagging in reflex to the acrid smell. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized she’d been instinctively holding her breath. She looked at Lee and spoke through her cupped hand. “Have you touched anything?”
“I might have left prints on the front door and maybe the handle on the refrigerator. I opened it out of curiosity.”
“Find something to wipe down anything you’ve touched. I’m going to take a quick look around. Then you and I are going to leave while Robert reports her death to the police.”
Robert wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Why me?”
She turned to him, her frustration and anger hidden behind the hand held to her nose. “Because you’re her employer. And when she didn’t show up for work, you became concerned and came looking for her. Her door was open, which you found odd, so you entered the apartment calling her name, only to find her dead on her bed. Besides which, you silly ass, you just puked in the middle of a crime scene. Do you think the detectives might miss that little detail?”
He stared at her blankly before his ability to reason kicked in. “I see your point,” he said, looking a little green. “I just don’t want to be here alone with her.”
She could understand his fear of being alone with the dead. It was a fear she shared.
“You can walk downstairs with us and make the call from the street. There’s no reason to wait for the police in the apartment.”
Her words seemed to mollify him. He looked at her, a pained expression on his face. “I’m pretty sure this is the worst day of my life, Bai. And it seems as if it’ll never end.”
He had tears in his eyes. She put her hand on his arm to steady him.
“‘A day of sorrow is longer than a month of joy,’” she acknowledged.
He looked at her with a pitiable expression on his face. Then he started to cry. She had to stop herself from joining him.
“Why don’t you wait downstairs, Robert? We’ll be down as soon as we’re finished here.”
He nodded curtly in reply and walked shakily down the hall to let himself out of the flat. Lee came from the kitchen with his handkerchief in his hand. He’d obviously been wiping his prints.
“I want to take a minute to look around,” she said.
“What are we looking for?”
“I don’t know. Anything that’ll shed some light on what’s going on, I suppose.”
She walked back into the bedroom. Park’s red eyes seemed to follow her as she made her way across the room. Lee shadowed her to lend his handkerchief. She used it to open drawers and rummage through Park’s things. He busied himself in a small closet, flipping open shoe boxes with a shoehorn he’d found.
“This is something,” Lee said, turning to her.
She walked over to see what he referred to. An open shoe box, sitting on the floor, was filled with neatly stacked gambling markers. The piles were held together with rubber bands.
“Her entire life in a shoe box,” Bai observed. “It looks like she had more than one addiction.”
She looked around the shabby room and shook her head. “From all appearances, Park lived a sad and lonely life.”
He pushed at the bundles of IOUs with the shoehorn. “I wonder if this has anything to do with that.” He gestured to the body lying on the bed. “She let someone into her life and into her apartment, someone she trusted. It’s dreadfully apparent she wasn’t any good at picking a winner.”
“Let’s finish up. Just being here depresses me.”
They hurriedly went through the rest of the apartment but found nothing of consequence.
As they left, Lee opened the entry door and closed it again with his handkerchief. When they returned to the street, they found Robert waiting for them on the sidewalk. He leaned with his back against the car. His face looked pale.
“Are you going to be all right?” Bai asked.
“I guess so,” he replied. “Did you find anything?”
“We found gambling markers in a shoe box in the closet. Does she have any family?”
Robert paused and seemed to give thought to his answer. “I don’t know.” He looked at her sadly. “I should know, but I don’t. I feel terrible.”
He started to cry again. She put a hand on his shoulder to console him. She felt helpless. She always felt that way when faced with death.