WHEN HE GOT back to Arlington it was almost midnight. It must have rained here as well, for the streets were shiny in the harsh beam of his headlights, and on the bridge over the Potomac his tyres hissed, rolling through the surface water.
He parked in the little driveway outside the garage, too tired to face the palaver of opening and shutting its door. When Isabel had been alive, this home had been a kind of paradise to them both, two city kids who’d dreamed of one day having a backyard. Now on his own, it seemed increasingly a burden.
As he walked up to the front door he noticed a light showing in the living room; Annie would have left it on since she’d been in today. He put his briefcase down and fumbled for his keys, then finally worked the right one into the lock.
He knew at once that something was wrong. The key turned too easily, as if the locking mechanism had been removed. He’d already moved forward, anticipating the slow swing open, but the door gave way as if snapped from a rubber band. He stumbled into his front hall, then the door hit something and Guttman nearly fell down. From the dim light cast by the living-room lamp he could just make out one of the kitchen chairs, upended by the opening door; it had been placed two feet back from the entrance, a makeshift burglar alarm.
A woman’s voice came from the living room. ‘Who’s there?’ it called out.
He recognised the voice. ‘Annie? It’s me.’ What was she doing here?
He picked up the chair and set it down on its legs, then walked into the living room. Annie was standing by the sofa, dressed but slightly dishevelled, and he saw from the wool throw and the contours of the sofa cushions that she had been lying down. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked, puzzled now more than alarmed.
‘Oh, Harry, you gave me such a fright.’
‘Likewise,’ he said, bemused. ‘What’s that?’ On the little table next to the sofa, on top of the stacked magazines, there was a little pistol, a .25 Beretta. It was meant to be a lady’s gun, but only a fool would think it couldn’t do what it was supposed to do.
Annie stared down at the gun. She stammered out, ‘I-I-I thought …’
‘Listen, you sit down while I close the front door – if it’ll close any more – and put my case away.’
She nodded wordlessly and he went out into the hall. Inspecting the door, he saw that the lock had been tampered with – someone had rolled its barrel so hard that the lock wouldn’t close.
He picked up his briefcase, stomped down the hall and put it in the bedroom, then went into the kitchen, where he turned the light on and fixed two set-ups in tumblers with ice and water before taking them through to the living room. He found Annie sitting in a corner of the sofa and as he turned on another lamp he looked at her. ‘I’m having a large inch of the Director’s special – how about the same for you?’
‘It sounds a pretty exotic concoction.’
‘Not really. Johnny Walker Scotch – I get a fifth every year for Christmas from Mr Hoover.’
‘Even now?’
He nodded; she was aware of his rifts with the FBI’s head man. ‘However mad he gets at me, I’m still on the Christmas list.The day I don’t get the bottle I’ll know I’m for the high jump.’ Though, conversely, getting the whisky was no guarantee that he wasn’t anyway.
He went over to the tray in the corner and lifted the bottle of Scotch, which was only half-empty. He wasn’t much of a drinker, and when he had the occasional cocktail before dinner he drank cheaper stuff than this. Now he poured hefty shots into both of the glasses he’d prepared.
As he handed Annie her drink she smiled a little wistfully. ‘You must think I’m crazy. To come home and find the door like that, and the chair, and then me brandishing a gun.’
‘I didn’t see the brandishing,’ he said. ‘But I admit the rest was unexpected.’
‘I can explain.’
‘I know. But try your drink first.’ He could see she was in a state, and hoped the whisky would calm her down. They sipped in silence for a minute.
‘Well,’ Annie said, taking a deep breath. ‘I was up early this morning while it was still dark. When I looked out the window I saw a light on over here. You said you’d be leaving before dawn, and I was worried that you’d overslept. But then I saw that the light was outside the house. I figured you were waving a flashlight, but I wanted to make sure it was you. So I put my shoes on and opened the door.’
‘I left real early – at about five.’
She nodded. ‘This was at six. When I went outside the light wasn’t there. So I started across the street.’
‘Why didn’t you go back inside and call the cops?’
‘And say what?’ She sounded slightly indignant. ‘ “Officer, I saw a flashlight outside of Harry Guttman’s house – please send a patrol car right away”?’
He laughed. ‘What happened then?’
‘When I got over here I heard a car drive away. I found the front door the way it is now – I think somebody’s picked the lock. I tried to close it as best I could, then went back to get Jeff ready for school.’
‘Okay. And then tonight?’ he asked.
‘Hold your horses, Harry. I sent Jeff to school, then I got Mrs Jupiter her breakfast and called the Justice to say I couldn’t make it to work. After that I phoned a locksmith – he couldn’t come today, darned man, but he’s due first thing in the morning. If you’re going to work I’ll be glad to wait for him.’
‘That’s okay. I hope I didn’t get you in Dutch with the Justice.’
‘He understood I couldn’t leave this place with the door open like that. Anyway, the Justice likes you, Harry. He told me once you were his “brother in arms”.’
Like hell, thought Guttman. He looked again at the gun on the table. ‘Speaking of arms, I didn’t know you had a handgun.’
When Annie shrugged he added, ‘You could hurt somebody with that, you know.’
Her face hardened momentarily. ‘I am aware of that. But don’t worry, I don’t carry it around. I keep it on the upper shelf of my closet – safe from Jeff.’
Guttman nodded. Her son was a nice kid, but curious and energetic, with a boy’s desire to search out everything.
‘Well, thank you for guarding the place,’ he said, thinking it would be nice to go to bed.
‘I wasn’t sure if you’d be back tonight. I figured whoever it was, they could walk straight in.’
Was there a faint note of reproof in her voice? He realised he wasn’t sounding very grateful. He was; it was just that he was astonished by her initiative. She had been very brave, if also foolhardy. This woman had plenty of guts. Sleeping on his couch with a .25 by her side, ready to defend his house from intruders.
He took a long draw on his drink, feeling it warm his insides. ‘You’ve done swell, Annie. I can’t thank you enough.’
‘Did you have a good trip?’ she asked, and he realised she didn’t want to go yet.
He tried not to yawn. ‘Okay. I saw my mother, which is never a bundle of laughs. I don’t think she’ll be with us much longer.’
I’m not, he thought. ‘She’s not really herself any more. It’ll be a blessing in a way if she moves on sooner rather than later.’
‘Was the train okay on your way back? They say there’s snow coming up north.’
‘It hasn’t got there yet. Though the power went out in the dining car.’ And the bar car had run out of peanuts. His supper had been two beers.
‘So you didn’t have dinner? Harry, you must be starving. Let me make you something.’
‘Don’t worry. I can fry an egg.’ Actually, he was too tired to cook anything.
‘Don’t be silly. Sit still.’ She ignored his feeble protests and went out to the kitchen, and within five minutes had given him a plate of scrambled eggs and two slices of toast. He realised he was ravenous, and perked up as he ate. He asked about Jeff, and heard about his school grades, and how Mrs Jupiter was starting to go slightly doolally. It was easy, familiar talk, and worked like balm – Guttman realised how agitated his day had been. He felt relaxed now, and suddenly gave a long sleepy yawn before he had time to suppress it.
Annie smiled. ‘Bedtime for Mr Guttman,’ she said, getting up and taking his plate and fork to the sink. She started to wash them, and before he could say anything asked quietly, with her back to him, ‘Have you heard anything from Jim lately?’
‘Not for a week or so.’ She had turned sideways to him, holding a dishcloth in her hand which she used to dry the plate. ‘Have you?’ he asked.
Her eyebrows arched involuntarily, but she inspected the plate calmly, and put it down on the counter. ‘No, not since he was here last summer.’
‘Oh.’ He wondered if Nessheim had another girl now. He hoped not. Poor Annie. ‘He’s got his studies, and he’s also doing some work for me.’
There was a small, private smile on Annie’s face, and Guttman sensed that his efforts to explain Nessheim’s silence were what was amusing her. He felt confused.
She said, the smile now gone, ‘I hope it’s nothing dangerous he’s doing for you.’
He tried to look surprised. ‘No, not at all. Routine stuff. But it keeps him busy – I’m sure that’s why you haven’t heard from him.’ He stopped awkwardly, no longer sure what he thought.
‘He’s a sweet guy,’ Annie declared. ‘I hope he’s happy. Someday he’ll find himself a gal who’s right for him.’ She put down the dish towel. ‘You’d better get some sleep, Harry – I’m going to. I’ll be over on Thursday as usual.’
Harry followed her to the front door and said goodnight, then flicked the switch to turn off the outside light. He watched Annie cross the street and go into Mrs Jupiter’s, then he stood for a minute with the front door open, breathing the cold air and listening as the leaves tumbled in the gutters of the street like whispers.