Death Waxed Over - Tim Myers [73]
I could see as drove up that there was a light on in her apartment. I knocked twice, and was about ready to give up when she opened the door. Becka was usually dressed stylishly in the latest fashions, but tonight she wore an old sweatshirt and faded jeans. She’d never looked prettier, in my opinion, but I knew better than to tell her that.
“Harrison, what a pleasant surprise. What brings you out here?”
“I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d take a chance and show up unannounced. I thought you were going to your sister’s place.”
“I’m not letting anybody scare me away from my own apartment.” She added, “I’m a mess, but you’re welcome to come in if you’d like.” Becka tried to smooth out her hair, but it was hard with one hand in a cast.
I stepped inside and she bolted the door behind me.
“Are you comfortable being here by yourself?” I asked.
“I’m fine, but I still have the feeling somebody’s watching me. It’s really eerie, you know?”
“I can’t imagine. How are you feeling otherwise?”
“I’ve been better but there’s hope in sight.” She winced as she moved to the couch.
“Did they give you anything for the pain?”
She nodded and pointed to a pair of pill bottles on the counter. “They did, but I’m trying to wait for bedtime before I take them. I’ve always been deathly afraid of pills.”
How well I knew that. When we’d been dating, I could remember Becka not even liking to take aspirin, so I knew if she was taking something for the pain, it had to be more intense than she was letting on. “Why don’t you take one now, and I’ll stay until you get drowsy,” I said.
“Would you? That would be so sweet.”
She retrieved one pill, swallowed some water to chase it, then said, “They recommend two pills at a time, but I’m getting by on one.” She came back to the couch and said, “It’s been a crazy week, hasn’t it? How’s your life been?”
“You mean besides being accused of murder in the newspaper? I’ve had a dandy time,” I said with a smile.
“You’re too funny, Harrison.” Before long she began to yawn. “I’m getting sleepy,” she said. “Those pills are pretty strong. I can’t imagine taking two.”
“Can you stay awake long enough to deadbolt your door after I’m gone?”
“I will. I promise,” she said.
I had a sudden impulse. “Becka, would you like me to stay here tonight? I could sleep on the couch.”
“Don’t be silly, I’m fine. Now go before I get too groggy to lock the door.”
I started for the door, and she leaned forward to give me a gentle peck on the cheek. “Thanks for stopping by,” she said.
I went back to my truck and headed home. I was halfway there when I realized my wallet wasn’t where it should have been. It must have fallen out of my pocket. I pulled the truck over at a used car lot and used their parking lot lights to search the floor of the cab. No luck. I’d either left it at Becka’s place or Jubal’s shop, and since I didn’t know where Jubal lived, I headed back to Becka’s. I only hoped she hadn’t fallen completely under the drug’s spell.
Someone had taken my spot in front of her building, so I parked in the visitors’ area and walked back toward Becka’s. I was nearly at her unit when I saw something moving in the bushes in front of her place.
Was it an errant reflection of discarded trash, or was there something more ominous about its presence? I knew I was probably being paranoid, but after what Becka had been through, I didn’t want to take any chances. For a moment I considered circling around the bushes and coming at the stranger from behind, but I quickly vetoed that notion. I stopped before I could be spotted and thought about what I should do. Then I realized I should find a telephone and call Morton. Let him take care of it. After all, it was his job, not mine.
I’d hoped to use Vince’s phone to call, but either he wasn