Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, Vol. 12, No. 6, May 1963

Another thing that got me, they were all pretty friendly together up there. I’d hear them and I got to where I’d leave the door to the basement open a crack and I’d stand there and listen and hear them calling to each other around the halls when they were getting out in the mornings.

The guy from Syracuse would make funny cracks and I’d hear her laugh, high and light and gay, like running water, and sometimes she’d say something back in that happy-sounding voice as she’d go downstairs on her way out. Then I’d wonder if she went out with him sometimes or if she saw him upstairs and everything would go sort of hazy and I’d feel the pulse in my temples and it would be a long time before I’d feel all right again.

It got so I didn’t feel much like eating, thinking about her and her short, curly hair and her narrow hips and the way she walked. I didn’t drink anymore, either.

Then I began to slip up into the halls at night when everything was quiet, sliding along and listening at some of the doors to see if I could hear her anywhere. I never did hear anything, though.

It was getting along toward spring, which you could tell by the calendar but nothing else. Until one morning the lineman had gone out early for something and I was sort of listening, especially for her, on the way to work, when I heard him come busting in and go running up the stairs. “Jeez,” he yelled. “It’s nice out!”

It wouldn’t happen anywhere but Buffalo, where summer is such a short season, July Fourth. So now spring was coming in. I wasn’t supposed to leave the place except for a good reason but now when I watched her going out at night, I began to follow along behind her a way.

I went just far enough to watch her walk along in her spring dresses, tight around her hips and thighs, her legs flashing in the brittle arc light flickering through the trees. It was just like she sent out electricity, every step she took.

The joker from Syracuse had moved on, so he didn’t bother me anymore. Once in awhile she’d walk out with the lineman at night and I’d watch for them when that happened. But he’d either come back first by himself or she would. I’d wonder about it anyway and then I’d listen outside his door in the night. But I never heard her.

Then late one afternoon Maggie came down and opened the basement door and yelled for me and I said what did she want and she said the owner wanted to see me. I went up and knocked on his door and he called for me to come in.

He was laying back in one of his big chairs in a silk bathrobe, with a drink on a little table by him and a record player going nice and low with music. He really had it made.

“Have a drink?” he said.

“No, thank you.”

“You don’t drink, do you?”

“Not much,” I said.

“You’re better off. What I wanted to see you about, have you seen anybody hanging around this place?”

“How do you mean?”

“A prowler or anybody might cause us trouble?”

“I haven’t noticed. I don’t get outside too much.”

“We got a girl on the second floor — well, we got two girls down there, in fact. But the one I’m talking about is the girl they call Caddie.”

Everything turned over inside, but I didn’t move a muscle. “I don’t know any of ’em but I think I know the room she’s got. About the middle of the floor down there?”

“That’s the one.”

I waited for him to go on and after a few seconds he said, “She kind of thinks somebody’s been watching her around here. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“Who is it?”

“She just seems to think somebody.”

“What would they do that for?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if somebody’s watching her at all. You know how girls are. She may be dreaming it. But try to keep a look out and see if you find anybody suspicious hanging around.”

“I don’t get much chance to get out but I’ll do the best I can.”

So I went back down to the basement and he’d done me a big favor. Now I could tail along and watch her and if anybody ever asked me anything I could always say he’d asked me to keep an eye on her.

Now things were quieter in the morning. There wasn’t much jolly talk up in the halls when everybody was starting out. There weren’t any funny cracks from the Syracuse guy and you didn’t hear her bubbly laugh. She just went out sort of silent.

Couple of days later Maggie and I were working up there and she says, “The place don’t seem the same lately.”

“What’s the matter with it?”

“Oh, I don’t know exactly. Since Jack moved on it ain’t so pleasant around here. And Caddie’s getting awful nervous.”

“You mean the girl in that room? What’s she nervous about?”

“She says somebody around here is watching her. You ain’t seen anybody around shouldn’t be here, have you?”

“No, I haven’t. What about the other girl, the one up front?”