CHAPTER 14

I went up the stairs, down a brown hall, and into an even browner room. A bed with gray sheets tilted in one corner. A torn shade covered the only window. A slice of sunlight backed through it and onto an opposite wall.

I turned to find Mulberry at my shoulder. Her angora wrapped itself around my ankle.

“Can you give me a little room?” I said.

The landlady took a half step back. I guess she called that room. Her nose flared a bit as she spoke.

“The police went through the drawers.”

She pointed to a crooked dresser that sat by the window.

“They didn’t take anything, though. I told them if they did, I’d make them sign. Want to see the form? I typed it up with a Gateway computer.”

I drifted toward the dresser and opened a few drawers. Nothing much. A couple of pairs of pants, some shirts.

“No wallet here or nothing, Ms. Mulberry?”

“No. He only had the one suit he was wearing. A simple man.”

I nodded.

“Nice enough man,” she said. As if I didn’t believe her.

“Any other personal stuff?” I said. “Papers, books, that sort of thing?”

Mulberry held her chin with one hand and shook her head. Then she picked up the angora and began to stroke it. The cat looked at me and I found it difficult to look away.

“She asked about that, too,” Mulberry said.

“The detective?” I said.

“Not the detective. The woman that called later.”

“What woman would that be?”

“The one on television. You know. The bitch with the red hair.”

“On Channel 6?”

“That’s the one. She came yesterday afternoon and looked through this stuff. Just like you.”

“Just like me, huh?”

“Yep. She didn’t get anything either. Told me not to talk to anyone else.”

I sat down on the bed.

“Son of a bitch,” I said.

The angora hissed and Mulberry arched her back. Or maybe it was the other way around.

“Don’t swear in front of Oskar. He doesn’t like it from strangers.”

The old woman laid out Gibbons’ clothes, put what looked like a shaving kit on top of them, and got the whole thing ready to bundle into a bag. My old partner had died alone and already found his hole in the ground. The rest of his life was here, in a dirty brown room and a Dominick’s shopping bag.

“It’s not so bad.”

Mulberry spoke softly and kept one eye closed. The other loomed large through the thick corrective lens.

“What’s not so bad?” I said.

“Dying alone. Once you lose your choices, it’s not so bad.”

“You think so?”

“I do. You should leave it be now and go.”

I shrugged, took a twenty out of my clip, and dropped it on the bed. For Kibbles ’n Bits, I told the woman. I told her if she ran across any of Gibbons’ personal papers or books to call me.

“What about the police?” she said.

I dropped her another twenty.

“What about the redhead?”

Two more twenties.

“Give the bitch nothing,” I said.

Mulberry smiled. Bubbles of green saliva kicked up between her front teeth. I left the house quickly, promising myself to brush and floss. Regularly and with determination.