But T.S. was not about to let them get out the door without a good look at what they held in their hands. He stuffed the envelope in his pocket and followed Worthington back into the living room, retrieving his cashmere coat for him. The silence was a curious one, as if words were being understood without being said. Worthington was smiling as if he had discovered a great secret, and Sally was a little too casually examining the small run that Brenda had left in her stocking.
"Sorry about that," T.S. managed, his innate good manners taking over. But he'd be damned if he'd offer to replace the tawdry things. Sally shrugged her shoulders prettily, he was to pay the matter no mind. T.S. understood then that some sort of a signal had been given and received; Worthington had trained her well.
"Like I say, I'm a connoisseur of human behavior. 'Live and let live,' I always say," Worthington repeated as he hurried out the door.
What was that supposed to mean? T.S. stood in the doorway as the pair made their way to the elevator. What in the world were they up to and what did it have to do with him?
He had plenty of time to think it through before nine that night, but first things first. T.S. returned to the kitchen and checked his silverware; it was all there as far as he could tell. He took a quick inventory of his most precious possessions, not doubting for an instant that it was a normal reaction to having those two in one's home.
Nothing was missing, yet he had a curious sensation that something had been taken. They had seemed so satisfied.
He turned the phone back on and dialed Auntie Lil's number. No answer. She was probably out minding the business of New York's other seven million inhabitants. All at one time. There was nothing to do but wait until Lilah returned from her errand. She, at least, could fill him in on the details of last night.
Restless, he fetched more aspirin and a cup of coffee, then dragged a chair in front of the sliding glass doors where he did his best thinking. The rest of the world was so tiny from this vantage point, and it made him seem more powerful. He sipped at the scalding liquid, then—remembering what Worthington had slipped him in the bedroom—he carefully opened the envelope stored in his pocket.
It held two keys taped to a small piece of paper. Emily's address was neatly printed beneath them.
It was not until she was a block away from Homefront that a sudden thought struck Auntie Lil. It emerged with frightening clarity: she could be walking into a trap. What if this was what had happened to Eva?
Auntie Lil hesitated, unsure of who she could turn to for help. Certainly not Detective Santos. He had threatened her with everything short of the electric chair if she continued to interfere. Herbert was probably back on the street by now. She'd just have to try Theodore again. She fumbled for a quarter in the depths of her enormous pocketbook and dialed her nephew. The answering machine picked up again. Where was he and what in the world was he up to? Her message reflected her annoyance.
She couldn't afford to speculate. She'd miss meeting Timmy. She hung up and pressed on toward Homefront. A block away, she slowed and began checking the windows of the nearby diners and delis. When she caught sight of Bob Fleming sitting all alone in one of them, staring into his coffee cup, she relaxed. If he was in there, that meant he wasn't waiting behind a door to knock her over the head and toss her into the Hudson to follow poor Eva down the river.
Of course, Annie O'Day was nobody's weakling. And who was to say that she had stayed behind at St. Barnabas? She could just as easily be waiting behind a door at Homefront. As could anyone else who was in on the scheme. And suppose Bob was nothing more than a ruse to relax her and lure her into the trap?
Suppose, suppose and suppose. She was sick of supposing. Auntie Lil shook her head resolutely and headed toward Homefront. At some point you just had to stop supposing and get on with life.
Homefront was empty: there was no one waiting behind the unlocked front door to hit her over the head, or anywhere else for that