Final justice - W.E.B. Griffin [76]
". . . and not even the answering machine answers."
"Maybe it's full."
"And she's not at work. I called there, too."
And just possibly, Mother Dear, she told them to tell you she was out.
"Mother, she probably had car trouble or something."
"No. She doesn't answer her cell phone, either. Jack, I'm really worried."
"Mother, what exactly is it you'd like me to do?"
"I want you to go by her apartment and see if she's all right."
"Mother, I'm on my way to work, and I'm already late."
"Jack, she's your sister. Your only sister."
He didn't reply.
"If only your father were still alive . . ." Mrs. Williamson began.
"Okay, okay. Don't start that. I'll go."
"You'll call me?" his mother asked.
Jack detected a triumphal tone in her voice.
Score another one for Momma Dear.
"I'll call."
He looked for, found, and took the next exit ramp--Exit 23--and a block onto Willets Road pulled to the side, clipped the cellular's hands-off microphone to his shirt, then picked the phone up and held down the 5 key, which caused the cellular to automatically dial Cheryl's number.
There was no answer, which meant she wasn't there. He hung up, then held down the 6 key, which caused the cellular to automatically dial Cheryl's cellular number. After five rings, a recorded female voice announced that the party he was attempting to reach was either not available at this time or out of the local calling area.
He cursed again, dropped the phone onto the seat, put the 300M in gear, and headed down Willets, deciding the best way to get to Cheryl's--all the fucking way across North Philly--was to take Roosevelt Boulevard and then Adams Avenue, into the East Oak Lane section of Philadelphia.
When he got to Cheryl's door, he could hear the chimes inside playing the first few bars of "Be It Ever So Humble," but there was no answer. Which meant that Cheryl was already probably at work.
He decided that when he got back to the car, he would call her at her office, and turned to leave.
Then nature called, and he was a long way from Overbrook Estates.
He felt around the top of the door frame for her spare key, and when he didn't find it, turned over the floor mat in front of the door, and when it wasn't there either, took a last shot and, standing on his toes, ran his hands over the trim above the windows next to Cheryl's door. He knocked a key off, failed to catch it, and it bounced off the floor and went over the edge of the walkway.
"Jesus H. Christ!" he said, and went down the stairs and two minutes later managed to find the key in the grass.
He unlocked the door and entered the apartment. There were, he remembered, two toilets, one with a bathtub off Cheryl's room, and another, just a water closet and a washbasin, off the kitchen. He went to the latter and relieved himself.
He was on the walkway checking to make sure the door was locked when a female voice asked, "Is everything all right?"
Now what the hell?
Jack found himself facing Mrs. Joanne McGrory.
"I'm Cheryl's brother," he said. "Jack Williamson."
And as soon as you satisfy your goddamn curiosity and go away, so you can't see what I'm doing, I will put the goddamn key back where it belongs.
"I'm Joanne McGrory. Next door."
"I'm pleased to meet you," Jack said.
"I'm pleased that everything is all right," Joanne McGrory said. "After the mirror, I was worried."
"Excuse me?"
"Our mirror came crashing off the wall, and I thought maybe something happened in there, too."
"Everything's fine in there."
"I called the cops, but they wouldn't go inside."
"You called the cops? Why?"
"Well, if you were in bed in the middle of the night and your mirror came crashing down off the wall, what would you do?"
"Mrs. McGrory, you're telling me the police were here last night?"
"Yes, they were," Joanne McGrory said. "I called them, thinking that something might have happened to Cheryl."
"And what did they do? Say?"
"They said they couldn't go into her apartment."
Jesus H. Christ, is my imagination running away with me? Is something really wrong here?