for my SEPTA TransPass, found the message from Detective Stiles. Damn. I wondered if he’d gotten my message. I tried him again on cell, but there was no phone service in the subway, so for the entire train ride it nagged me. Why had he called? What could he want?
SIX
THE WALK HOME FROM THE TRAIN, AT LEAST, WAS PEACEFUL. Crisp December air, late afternoon sun. The sounds of traffic and my own shoes on solid pavement. Finally, I thought, my day was settling down. But when I got to my house, old Charlie was sitting on the front steps. I hoped he was just resting, that he’d get up and let me pass. He didn’t. No, as I approached, Charlie didn’t move at all, other than to stretch his mouth into one of his wide, open grins.
“Hi, Charlie.” I tried to step around him to follow.
“Hello, Miss Zoe.” He nodded my way. “Not too cold today.” Still smiling, he slid over slightly to the center of the steps, blocking my way. “Sit awhile?”
“Sorry.” I tried to sound friendly. “I can’t. The sitter has to get home, and we have someplace to go.”
Charlie looked up the steps. “Give it a minute. All that can wait.”
What? He didn’t budge. “Charlie, I’ve got a million things to do before we go.”
“Sit a minute.” It was a command. “Just for a minute.” He didn’t look at me. “Go on. Sit.”
It wasn’t like Charlie to order people around. Something must be on his mind; as reluctant as I was to linger, I was also curious. Besides, I was tired. It wouldn’t hurt to sit for a minute. One.
So I sat. The cement was hard and cold, and Charlie’s aroma was strong. It wasn’t quite offensive, just stale. Musky. I leaned back against the railing and looked at him. Charlie’s jacket was frayed at the collar, worn at the cuffs. His shoes were scuffed, his pants stained with paint and oily patches. A handyman’s uniform. For a while, he was silent. I watched his breath clouds swell and fade as he stared into the street. Finally, quietly, he said, “Miss, how many years now have we lived across the street from each other?”
It was an unexpected question. How many years had it been? I remembered moving in, Michael carrying me over the threshold, my arms around his neck. I didn’t want to remember that, didn’t want to count the years. “I don’t know. Thirteen? Thirteen years, I guess.”
“Thirteen years. That’s a pretty long time, right?”
“I don’t know. You’ve lived around here a lot longer than I have, Charlie.”
“Well, that’s true. I’ve lived here since before they came in and fixed up everything. Gentrified it. I was here way before your house was even built. This used to be a vacant lot with poor folks’ homes all around it. They’re all gone now, of course. Torn down. And the poor folks have mostly gone.”
I nodded, wondering what visions Charlie saw when he looked up and down the street.
He turned to face me. “Miss, who do you think you can trust?”
“Trust?”
“In the world, I mean.”
The question was oddly personal, and Charlie’s stare made me uncomfortable. I looked up at the door, wondering if Angela would be in a hurry. Then I searched a pocket for my keys.
“Seriously, think about it. Who do you trust? These days, anybody can be anybody, for all you know. Even a neighbor.”
“True enough.” I might as well agree with him.
“The police were here yesterday, miss. You called them?” Oh, so that was it. He was curious about the police. “Yes, Charlie, I called them.” “Why? What happened?”
I didn’t want to tell him about the finger. Lord, if I did, we’d be out here for hours, discussing it. “I had a problem.” “There was trouble, so you called the police.” “Yep.”
“Well, that’s natural. That’s what they’re there for, to help people. You trust them, don’t you? You trust the police, Miss Zoe?”
I thought of Detective Stiles. His steady pale eyes. “Yes, Charlie. I trust them. Look, I really have to go in.”
“But you didn’t tell me what the trouble was. Even though you’ve known me for thirteen years. Even though we share the same street.”
“Charlie. It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just don’t want to discuss it.”
“Miss, you trust the police, but not old Charlie. I understand that. You know me, but you don’t know if you can trust me. Right?”
I started to get up. “It’s not that I don’t trust you,