The next day, as I was about to head down to the office, I remembered the plate I had found. I went back to the kitchen and picked it up to give to Ruth in the office. I hoped she would be able to find out who it belonged to, both because it looked like something the owner would want back and because the co-op would want to stop people leaving food out in the alley.
At that time of day, the office should have been open. But I found the door locked and another co-op member waiting at the door when I got there.
It was Aaron, the man I'd battled with over the motor home. He was banging on the closed door and muttering under his breath. He stopped and glared at me as I approached.
I wondered if he was going to go into another tirade about me. But someone else was the target of his anger today.
“I don't know how I'm supposed to pay my housing charge if the co-op can't keep the office open.”
I must have looked puzzled because he went on.
“Housing charges. That's what we call rent in the co-op. If you're such a great new co-op member, you ought to know that. It's supposed to make us feel special, I guess. That Les was always on about how we were co-owners, not tenants. We still had to pay on time though, else we'd be in trouble.
“That Ruth called me yesterday to remind me I needed to give her more post-dated checks. That's how I pay. I usually give them enough checks for the year. But I guess I was running out of checks when I paid in January. She called to say the last one was for October and I needed to give her some more. At least, that's what she said. You can't really trust anyone these days.”
I paid my own rent through a direct transfer from my bank account to the co-op's, which seemed the easiest way. But it appeared that some people still used checks.
“But I can't pay if there's no one to give it to,” Aaron went on. “I don't know what kind of a place we're running here.”
“Yes, well, a death does tend to disrupt things a little,” I said. “You'd think Les could have been a bit more considerate and waited to die until after you'd paid your 'housing charges.'”
I regretted the words before they were out of my mouth. I was alone in the co-op lobby with a large and very angry man. A man I'd already had run ins with over his stupid motor home. My mother had often told me I needed to think more about being smart and not just smart-mouthed.
I could see his face getting redder. Was he just a bully who yelled or could he actually be violent?
“Just who do you think you are?” he screamed. “You come in here and all of a sudden I have to move my motor home so you can park your little car. I've lived here for twenty years and you just got here, but your car takes priority. Why is that, huh?”
I took a step back but I tried to keep my voice calm. “Look, I have one parking spot, just like everyone else. It's not special treatment. I don't know why you think that.”
“Oh, yeah, Naomi told me all about you. And other people too. I guess you and Les had some kind of special relationship that got you special treatment. That's so unfair. But I guess you won't be getting any special treatment now, will you?” He was yelling and almost spitting out the word “special.”
“Aaron, I only want to park my car in the parking spot I'm paying for. That's not unreasonable. And I understand people were complaining about the motor home long before I moved in.”
“Yeah, that Les. No one else. Now he's gone, I guess I don't have a problem do I? Unless you keep causing trouble.”
He shook his fist in my face. I backed up a little. Would he actually hit me? He followed me, waving his arms and shouting.
Was Aaron actually saying he had something to do with Les's death? Over a parking spot for a motor home?
I was relieved to see a door open down the hall. Gwen poked her head out of her apartment.
“Oh, hi Rebecca, Aaron. Is everything all right? I thought I heard yelling.”
“No, everything is not all right,” Aaron replied, his face getting red again. The man was surely a heart attack waiting to happen. “I'm just trying to pay my housing charges. The co-op comes down on me hard enough if I'm a few days late. You're quick enough to charge me a late fee if I don't pay on time. Is it too much to expect the office to be open during office hours?”
“Well, Aaron . . .” Gwen began. She was obviously going to make some comment about the difficulty of keeping the office open when the key staff person had died. But she seemed to think better of the comment. She was more diplomatic than I was.
“I'm sorry, Aaron,” she went on. “You can certainly pay your housing charge. I thought Ruth was coming in today. Is the door locked?”
“Locked,” Aaron said. “And I banged on the door but no one answered. The office is supposed to be open nine to five.” Aaron's face was red, and he was breathing loudly. “I don't know why I live in the stupid place anyway. You guys have no idea how to manage a building.”
I was astonished that Gwen could remain so calm listening to Aaron's tirade. She was obviously used to his behavior.
“Just let me get my keys and I'll let us into the office. I can take your check, and Ruth can deal with it when she comes in.” Gwen hurried into her unit and came out jangling a heavy set of keys.
“I do hope Ruth is coming in today,” she added. “She did a great job last week sorting things out. She told me she'd found some quite interesting files about the co-op in the early days. I didn't even know we still had some of that stuff. I asked her to let you look through it for the co-op history. She stayed quite late though, so maybe she just decided to come in later today.”
The keys on the ring clanked as she unlocked the office door and pulled it open.
“That's odd,” she said. “The lights are on.” She walked quickly into the office, followed by Aaron. Then I heard her scream.
Aaron's huge body was blocking the doorway but he was backing out quickly. He was making gagging sounds and I smelled the sour odor of vomit. I looked after him, puzzled, as he rushed outside. Then I heard Gwen scream again, louder this time, and I rushed into the office.
The smell of vomit was overpowering. I was used to cleaning up after Ben when he was sick but this smell was putrid. There was a small puddle of vomit on the floor near the door, where it looked like Aaron had thrown up. But surely that couldn't account for the horrible smell.
For a moment I couldn't see Gwen. Then I saw her crouched down on the floor by one of the desks. There was something on the floor beside her. As she stood up, I realized that it was Ruth. She was surrounded by pools of vomit, and she was frighteningly still.
Gwen's face was pale. “Call an ambulance,” she said, her voice shaky. “But I don't think it will do any good. She might have a pulse but I can't find it.”