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BOOK: Small Crimes
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Charlotte
Boyd lived in the Maple Farms apartment complex off of Route Two. The apartment
complex was built in the early sixties and was an eyesore. A four-story
concrete structure housing close to eighty apartments. Each unit had its own
balcony where the outer wall was made up of colored sheet metal, the colors
ranging from purple to lime green to a dull yellow. I don't know what the
architect could possibly have been thinking.

I
found Charlotte's apartment number and dialed it up on the intercom system.
After about a minute I heard some static and then what I thought was her voice,
but I wasn't sure. I pressed the talk button and announced who I was. Another
thirty seconds and I was buzzed in.

When
I got to her door I knocked. I heard some movement from behind it and could
tell she was using her peephole. The door opened a few inches and I heard her
soft voice asking me to come in.

'I
have several cats,' she explained in what was barely over a whisper.
'I
don't want to leave the door open because they might run out.'

I
squeezed through the opening and shut the door behind me. Charlotte was
standing in front of me, her large hazel eyes holding steady on mine. Her hair
was pulled back in a ponytail and she was dressed in jeans and a University of
Toronto sweatshirt. She looked younger than when I saw her the day before. She
also looked prettier. Her nurse's uniform had hung on her like a curtain. With
her jeans on, I could tell her body had more of a definition to it than I
would've thought. Also, her eyes didn't seem all that nervous anymore.

'Hi,
Charlotte. I was hoping to find you at home.'

'Would
you like to sit down?'

Off
to the side of the entranceway was a small living room. There wasn't much
furniture in it—a small antique-looking chair and a matching loveseat, a coffee
table, and a stereo bench with a TV. A neatly arranged stack of magazines lay
on the coffee table, and there were books and small knick-knacks on a few
built-in shelves. While there wasn't much to the room, it had a nice feel.
Charlotte took the antique chair and I sat on the loveseat. On the coffee table
was a photograph of three very odd-looking cats, all with pushed-in faces and
dour expressions.

Are
these yours?' I asked.

'Yes.
That's Lady Margarite in the middle. Next to her on the right is Princess Anne,
and on the left is Simone.'

For
the life of me, I wouldn't have been able to tell one from the other. All three
of them looked like carbon copies of each other.

'Three
ladies, huh?' I said. I looked around to see whether I could spot any of them.

'They're
skittish with strangers,' Charlotte said. 'Could I get you something to drink?'

'No
thanks.' I showed her an apologetic smile. 'I've been thinking a lot about you
since yesterday. I was hoping I could talk you into taking a ride with me to
Burlington and joining me for a late brunch. I know I'm putting you on the spot
by showing up like this.'

From
the way she hesitated I knew she had already eaten lunch. But she nodded. 'I'd
like that, Joe. Let me change clothes and I'll be right with you.'

She
disappeared into her bedroom. As I waited I flipped through the magazines on
her coffee table and found a couple on cats, one on antiques, another on
knitting, and a final one on travel. I thumbed through the travel magazine
until I came across an article about Italy. I wasn't entirely kidding Scott
Ferguson about wanting to see the world. I was forty years old and had so far
seen almost none of it. It struck me that I had never even been in an airplane.
As I looked at pictures of the Colosseum in Rome and the canals of Venice, I
started daydreaming. With some effort I shook myself out of it and put the
magazine down.

I
got up and took a look at what she had, on her shelves. There were a number of
porcelain figurines; mostly either ballerinas or cats, with a couple of birds
mixed in. As far as her books went, there were half a dozen on Victorian
England, a handful of what looked like medieval romance novels, and a couple on
the Diana and Prince Charles wedding. There were a few other miscellaneous
books that you'd probably classify as literary. Out of boredom I had actually
read most of them while in jail.

I
noticed one of my eyes had started itching like crazy, and as I rubbed it, I
saw one of her cats peeking at me from around the corner. I guess it was trying
to decide whether I was worth the trouble. Its expression looked even more dour
in person. It must've made up its mind that I wasn't, because it darted back
around the corner and out of sight.

By
this time both my eyes were tearing and my nose had started running. Then I
started sneezing. It came out almost like machine-gun fire. Charlotte came
running into the room. She had changed into a sweater and a skirt and had
pulled her hair out of its ponytail, but with the sneezing and the way my eyes
were swelling up I couldn't pay much attention to her. I could tell, though,
that she had a worried look on her face.

Between
sneezes I told her that I thought I was allergic to her cats.

'I'
m
so sorry.'

"There's
nothing for you to be sorry about.' I stopped to fire off a couple more
sneezes. 'I was the one who dropped by out of the blue.' I had to stop again.
When I could continue, I told her I was going to buy some allergy medication
and that I'd meet her out front in fifteen minutes.

'If
we go to the hospital, I can pick you up a sample of a prescription allergy medication
that will be more effective than what you can buy over the counter.'

'Okay,
sure.'

I
was anxious to get out of there. She still needed a few minutes so I told her
I'd meet her in the lobby. I just couldn't catch a break. I actually found
myself feeling comfortable in her apartment, but it couldn't be that simple - I
couldn't be given a few minutes of peace. Something had to screw it up, so of
course I had to find myself allergic to her cats. And of course she couldn't
just have one. She had to have three of them spreading dander throughout her
apartment.

I
found a rest room in the lobby and splashed cold water on my face and in my
eyes, but it didn't help much. My eyes still felt itchy as hell and my nose was
running like a faucet. I went through a dozen paper towels before my nose
started to dry out. I forced myself to look in the mirror and couldn't help
laughing at what I saw. I looked pathetic. My eyes were almost swollen shut. As
it was, I could only keep them open to narrow slits. My nose looked raw from
blowing it out with all those paper towels. Here I needed to win Charlotte over
in a quick whirlwind romance, and I looked like this? As I said before, I
couldn't catch a break.

I
found Charlotte waiting for me in the lobby. The concern in her face seemed to
have deepened and there was some nervousness back in her eyes.

'I didn't know where you were,' she said. I was
trying to wash out my eyes.' I forced a laugh. 'I'll tell you, that hit me
pretty hard. I never knew I was allergic to cats

before.'

She
seemed deep in thought as we walked to my car. When we got there she asked
whether she should drive. 'Do you know how to handle a stick shift?' She shook
her head.

'Don't worry,' I said. 'I'll be okay driving.'

I
put the top down and we headed off towards Bradley Memorial. With the way my
eyes had swollen up, it was a struggle keeping them open against the sunlight.
They just kept trying to force themselves shut. The fresh air, though, felt
good against my face. Somehow, even though I could barely keep my eyes open, I
got us to the hospital in one piece. Charlotte got out of the car and told me
she'd be right back.

While
I waited for her, I spotted Junior leaving the hospital with his two pint-sized
miniature versions of himself. He saw me sitting in my car, and as he did, an
ugly grin spread across his face. He changed direction and started walking
towards me, ignoring his two boys as they punched at each other's arms.

'Well,
look who's here,' he said. 'Whatsa matta, Joe, you been crying or something? Big
bad world getting you down?'

'Junior,
you better look after your two kids before they kill each other.'

He
turned sideways to see his two boys smacking each other. He raised his hand as
if he were going to slap both of them, and barked at them to stop it. They
obeyed his order, both staring back with sullen, dull expressions.

'They're chips off the old block, huh, Junior?'
I said.

He
turned back towards me, his grin stretched tighter across his face. 'What I
tell you before about calling me Junior,' he said.

'Sorry, old habits die hard.'

'You
think you're so fucking smart. You're a fucking moron, that's what you are.
What I tell you before about bothering my pop?'

'He
told me why he's working out a deal with Phil.’

‘You're
fucking delusional.'

'You
want to know why he's going to be spilling his guts? It's partly because of
you, Junior. Woops, there I go, calling you that again.'

He
didn't say anything, he just stared at me with his dark black eyes, his grin
all but disappearing as it stretched even farther across his face. I noticed I
even had his two boys' attention.

'He
wants to save your soul. He thinks if he can force you out of your life of
crime he can convert you into a devout, God-fearing member of society.'

'You've
gone completely nutso, pal.'

'You
think so, huh? Why don't you go back in there and talk to your dad about it.
See what he has to say.'

'I
don't have to go bothering Pop because of your bullshit delusions. But I tell
you, Joe, there's going to be a price you're gonna pay for disturbing Pop.
Beyond and above the thirty grand you owe me.'

'You
got me shaking here, Junior.'

He
took a step towards my car, his face flushed with violence. 'If you had any
brains you would be shaking. You and me will settle this later, Joe. I promise
you that.'

'If
you have any issues with me,' I said, 'we can settle them now.'

'Nah,
later, when we have some privacy.'

'We
don't have to wait. If you want I can get out of the car now and kick the crap
out of you in front of your two kids. Would you like me to do that?'

He
started walking away from my car, his ugly grin back in place. 'That's okay,
Joe. We'll settle things later. I guarantee it.'

I
watched as Junior and his two kids walked across the parking lot and got into
his Range Rover. I was so caught up watching them that I wasn't aware that
Charlotte had gotten into my passenger seat until she closed the door shut. It
damn near gave me a heart attack.

'Here
you go,' she said as she handed me a bottle of water and a pill. As I swallowed
the pill, I noticed Junior's Range Rover slow down and could see him getting a
good long look at Charlotte. Both his boys were also staring at her, both with
their pug noses pressed hard against the same back passenger window. Junior
lowered his window and waved at the two of us.

'See
you around, Joe,' he yelled out before speeding off.

'I
think that was Mr. Vassey's son,' Charlotte said.

I
nodded. I didn't like the fact that Junior saw the two of us together, but
there was nothing I could do about it and it probably didn't matter.

'He
doesn't seem like a very nice man,' she remarked quietly. 'I'd have to agree
with that.'

She
peered at me for a moment before turning away with a slight blush. 'Your
swelling has gone down. Are you feeling any better?'

'I
think so.'

I
gave a quick look in the rearview mirror and could see she was right about the
swelling. It was easier to keep my eyes open against the sunlight. As I pulled
out of the parking lot and headed towards Burlington, Charlotte seemed lost in
her own thoughts. She sat quietly, her brow furrowed, her small hands clasped
tightly together.

At
one point I thought I saw her shivering. I asked whether she was cold. She
hesitated for a moment before telling me that she was fine. I pulled the car
over and put the top back up.

BOOK: Small Crimes
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