Treadmill (8 page)

As his mind concentrated more and more on these possibilities, his paranoia and fear turned to anger. His life had been savagely invaded. It occurred to him that it was quite possible that his privacy had been compromised, that what he had thought was forgetfulness was someone poking around in his apartment. Such thoughts intensified the anger and softened his view of Beth’s speculations. She had seen things that had escaped his notice.

This disruption in his life seemed endless.
When will it stop?

Cooper decided that when he found Parrish, he would tell him that he had absolutely no curiosity about his personal affairs, secret or otherwise, legal or illegal. He would assure Parrish that he had no interest in anything beyond his own very narrow agenda, the rigid control of his own life. He looked through the plate glass window of the lobby door. There was no sign of the black car, no sign of anyone loitering. But that didn’t mean that they, whoever they were, would not be out there.

They
. His mind churned. Perhaps “they” were Parrish’s enemies, enemies of America, determined to stop Parrish from whatever it was he was doing. Somehow they might have assumed that he, Cooper, would be the stalking horse who would bring them to Parrish. Or perhaps “they” had decided, he was in on it.
In on what?
He would be cautious, Cooper decided. He would outfox them. If they tried to follow him, he would lead them on a merry chase. And lose them.

For a brief moment, it crossed Cooper’s mind that perhaps his imagination had become hyperactive. All the books he had read, the fictive concoctions of his collected authors, all the characters and stories might have fired up his fantasies, superimposed motives and activities on people like Parrish that didn’t actually exist.

He vowed to himself that he was finished being kicked around in the scenarios other people created. Maybe, if he had been more aware, more cunning, more devious, he could have found a way to circumvent those events that had impacted on his life, even prevent them. If he had only known his mother was ill, if he had only known that Margo was having an affair, if he had only known his agency was going belly up.
If, if, if.

Yes,
he decided. He had not taken control of his life earlier, and had allowed himself to be lied to, deluded, ignored.

He strode outside onto the street, dividing the world, in his mind, into two sides. Friend and foe. It would be difficult, of course, knowing who was who. He would adopt his own strategies and tactics of pursuit and evasion.

With this new attitude he took the elevator up to the second floor of his apartment building, and then backtracked down the exit stairs. He let himself out through the rear of the building. There was no one visible as he walked past the garbage cans and took a shortcut through an alley that led to a street of residential houses. It was a roundabout way, but for the first time since yesterday, he did not feel like he was being followed.

He wondered whether he was really being clever or simply foolish. He would soon find out. Parrish’s address was relatively close by. Maybe a twenty-minute jog, at most. As he went past, he observed the traffic. There were few pedestrians. He could not identify any vehicles as specifically following him.

The address turned out to be a garden apartment complex of the kind built immediately after World War II. A sign at the entrance to the first building read “Georgia Mews.” It was typical of housing and apartment complexes to have fanciful names. Under the sign, in small painted letters, was “Vacancies Available. Inquire Within.” An arrow pointed to the building nearest the entrance.

There were about twenty buildings. All were two stories high, constructed of red brick. An effort had been made to upgrade the landscaping, although the parking lots were marred with potholes, and the retaining walls were crumbling. The address was not specific to any of the buildings, making it almost impossible to find the one that contained Parrish’s apartment without help. He could tell from the few old cars parked in the lot that the apartment complex was modestly priced. Cooper estimated two apartments to a floor, four apartments to a building.

He walked through the entrance. A black woman sat on a bench in a small, shabby postage stamp of a playground, watching her son climb on an aging metal jungle gym. A plumber’s pickup truck moved through the complex, stopping at one of the buildings closer to Georgia Avenue.

Cooper walked back to the rental office. A middle-aged man in a button-down sat behind a beat-up desk.

“Any one bedroom vacancies?” Cooper asked. Unused to subterfuge, he was determined to appear nonchalant.

“Yes we do, as a matter of fact,” the man said.

“I need something rather quickly.”

“We’re your ticket.”

Cooper cleared his throat.

“I was at a party at a friend’s place here a few weeks ago. Mike Parrish. I liked the layout,” Cooper said.

“Parrish, yeah,” the man said.

“What he had would suit me just fine.”

“You’re lucky. We got some of those available.”

“He’s still there?”

“Parrish?”

“Mike Parrish.”

There was a brief pause as the man got up from his desk and opened a drawer of a file cabinet. He took out a file and studied its contents.

“Building twenty. Apartment four. Second floor. 2A. He’s paid through next month. We’re month to month here. We ask for sixty days notice, and he gave sixty days notice. Cash on the barrelhead kind of guy. He used to come in and peel off his rent in cash. Everything cash with that guy. Been here five years. Yeah, five. Always on time. Always in cash.” He stopped abruptly and shook his head.

“I’d like to take a look at his apartment,” Cooper said. “Just to refresh my memory.”

“Tell Parrish you want to see it,” the man said. “Far as I know, he hasn’t moved out yet. It’s his for the next six weeks.”

“So he’s still there?”

“As far as I know. He gave his sixty days notice over the phone.”

“Phone?” Cooper said.

“Uh huh.”

“Did you take the call? I mean when he gave notice.”

“Answering machine got it. I remember cause he said he had to leave early for an appointment. Said he’d drop it in the slot on the way out.”

“Cash?”

“Put it in an envelope, and dropped it through that slot in the door.”

“Do people usually call you when they give notice?”

“No. Can’t say they do. Ordinarily we like it in writing, but seeing as he was an old tenant with a good record….”

“He never told you he was leaving here?”

“No. We’re not that close. Used to do some work for me. He’s a freelance artist.” Cooper smiled at the man and edged toward the door.

“I can show you a similar place if you want,” the man said.

“Tell you what. I’m going to check with Parrish first. Look over his place. It’d sure be a disappointment if he left town.”

The man nodded, “He may not be. Didn’t say…. Hey, what’s your name? ‘Case I see him or something?”

But Cooper was already gone.

He let himself through the door of building twenty, walked up the one flight and pressed the doorbell to apartment 2A. No answer. He waited, and then held his finger on the button again. He heard the long buzz, clearly audible. If Parrish was inside he could not miss hearing it.

At that moment, he heard the door of the building open. Stepping into the shadows, he watched from above a woman enter and put her key in one of the mailboxes. She took out the mail, and suddenly started walking up the stairs. There was nowhere to run, and as she reached the landing, he stepped forward.

Startled, she dropped the mail on the tiled floor. Cooper bent to pick it up.

“I’m sorry,” Cooper said, rising and handing her the mail. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Well you did,” the woman said. She was around thirty with round dark framed glasses over bright green eyes. The glasses were perched over a straight, narrow nose between high cheekbones. Blonde hair came down to her shoulders. She was attractive in a rugged, outdoorsy way.

“I was looking for Mike Parrish,” Cooper said.

“Good luck,” she replied with a touch of attitude.

She turned away and inserted her key in the door of the apartment directly across the hall from Parrish. 2B, Cooper noted.

“No one answers?” Cooper volunteered, offering a smile, to further put the woman at ease.

“He comes and goes.” She looked at her watch. “Not that I keep tabs on him,” she added swiftly.

“He’s a freelance artist,” Cooper said in an attempt to explain his presence.

“You a friend of his?” the woman asked, eyeing him curiously, and ignoring his comment.

“In a manner of speaking,” Cooper said. “We work out together.”

When she did not respond, he added, “Bethesda Health Club.”

“Do you?” It was obviously a kind of rhetorical question. She turned the key in the door and opened it.

“I still work out there,” Cooper said, hoping that she would continue the conversation. “Parrish hasn’t shown up there for awhile.”

“He hasn’t?” The woman showed mild interest and remained standing in the doorway.

“Did you know he gave notice? He’s moving out.”

“Is he?” the woman said. “But that’s no surprise. This is a pretty transient community here.” She paused. “How do you know?” Her interest was piqued.

“The man in the office.” Cooper could not evade exposing that he was searching for Parrish. “I stopped by. I couldn’t reach him by phone.”

“He is rather reclusive. He isn’t much of a talker,” the woman replied, with an edge of irritation in her voice.

“Are you friends?” Cooper asked, hoping that the woman wouldn’t rebel at the question.

“You sound like some sort of an investigator,” the woman said, looking at him suspiciously. “Is he in some kind of trouble?”

“No. No trouble….” Cooper stammered, knowing his response was hardly reassuring.

His own confusion embarrassed him into an awkward silence. The woman’s eyes studied him behind the round frames of her glasses. She seemed wary, uncertain of how to assess him.

“Does he owe you money?” the woman asked, her head cocked in curiosity.

“Nothing like that.”

“Good,” she said with relief.

“I thought maybe he was sick or something.” Cooper cleared his throat. “His absence from the club was kind of sudden.”

“I’m sure he’d be flattered by your interest,” she said. He reviewed her implication in his mind.

“I wouldn’t call it interest. Not exactly.”

“It’s really none of my business,” she said.

“Concern, I suppose. Yes. That’s it. Concern. You know how it is. We worked out together for…hell…over five months.”

“Concern? Do you have any reason to be worried about him?”

“Not really.” Cooper shrugged, realizing how odd he must sound.

“Gut feeling? Premonition?”

“None of the above,” he said, forcing a show of indifference.

Now who is the investigator?
he wondered.

“You’re a very caring fellow. Not many of you around these days.” He caught a hint of sarcasm.

“I wouldn’t exactly put it that way either,” Cooper said, feeling a blush rise to his face.

“As I said. It’s none of my business. One thing about Parrish—he is a character.”

“That he is,” Cooper said, forcing a wry laugh. “Anyway, I was going to sort of hang out here for awhile. Take a walk around. Check later. He does have to come home sometime. I mean, if he hasn’t split.”

“Suit yourself,” the woman shrugged.

She started to move inside the apartment, then stopped abruptly.

“Would you like some coffee?” she asked

“That’s very kind. Are you sure…?”

“You look harmless enough,” she chuckled.

He followed her inside. She put the mail on a table and removed her coat. The apartment was furnished sparsely with cheap contemporary bric-a-brac, and had the air of being makeshift, temporary. It seemed in sharp contrast to the woman’s appearance, which was neat and well groomed. In the dining alcove sat a bridge table and three bridge chairs. There was a worn-out couch in the living room, and a slightly tattered upholstered chair opposite it. He noted discolored spaces on the walls where pictures had once hung. There was a bookcase sparsely filled with books. They were mostly, old, beat-up paperback novels.

There was no television set. He smiled inwardly observing the similarity with his own spartan lifestyle and disinterest in the outside world. She watched him eye the surroundings.

“When Carlton and I split, we split his and hers,” she said. “The dining room table, books, TV and stereo were his.”

Cooper was taken aback by her sudden revelation.

“I know the process,” Cooper said. “When you want out, possessions mean nothing.”

“You, too?”

“Yup.” He shrugged.

“Nothing works out the way you plan it,” she sighed, losing herself in thought for a moment. Then she gave him a laser glance, and nodded her head lightly as if she had finally validated him. “I’m Susan Haber.”

“Jack Cooper,” he said.

A strange sense of mutual interest seemed to fill the space between them. She went into the tiny square of a kitchen and started a pot of coffee on the small electric stove. That done, she passed near him as she moved to what apparently was the bedroom.

“Be right back, was it Jack?” she asked. He nodded. “Make yourself at home.”

Her movements were quick and graceful. After a moment, he heard her talking quietly into a telephone. He continued to study the apartment, and his eyes drifted toward the mail on the table. Mostly junk mail, he noticed, addressed to “Occupant.”

A transient like myself
, he thought.

She came back, sat on the couch and crossed her long legs. She was wearing black slacks and clunky heels. He sat opposite her in the chair. For the first time in months Cooper felt a tiny ripple of desire.

“I’m on call this week,” she explained. “I’m a nurse.”

“This is awfully generous of you,” Cooper said.

“We seem to have something in common.”

“Parrish?” Cooper asked hopefully.

“The proximity of Parrish,” she chuckled.

“You said he was a character,” Cooper said. “I totally agree.”

“Some people qualify. It’s the way they are.”

“That’s Parrish.”

He felt the woman study his face. Surprisingly, he did not turn away, meeting her gaze. It crossed his mind that something was transpiring here that was totally unexpected. The sudden engagement stunned him.

“There’s more to this than meets the eye,” she said pleasantly. “Isn’t there?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Maybe.”

“I could tell,” she said. She hesitated, then spoke. “Parrish always seemed…mysterious.”

“Mysterious?” Cooper asked, mulling it over, remembering the story of the lost child.

Cooper sensed that she was waiting for more of an explanation than he had given her so far, something in return for her hospitality.

“It’s weird…about Parrish,” he added.

“Everything about Parrish is weird.”

“We worked out together for nearly five months,” he said, slightly embarrassed. “Side by side. Seven days a week. Didn’t really communicate very much.” Cooper felt himself holding back, studying the woman. She was friendly, interested, and to his surprise, she was not antagonizing, like Beth Davis. He felt comfortable. Attracted. Margo’s image flitted through his thoughts, but quickly disappeared.

“We talked a little in the sauna. That was it. Then he just cut out.” He paused, cleared his throat. “Vanished.” He quickly added, “Vanished might be too strong a word.” He remembered that it was Beth Davis who had first used the word. “We were sort of becoming buddies. I guess I was curious. I started to check around, find out where to reach him. No big deal. Maybe he found a better gym.” He paused, studying her, surprised at the extent of his revelation, and his own odd compulsion to confide.

In for a penny, in for a pound
, he thought, wanting to tell her more. “Then things began to turn…well, fishy.”

“Fishy?”

She was concentrating, and the expression in her eyes varied between skepticism and confusion, but her attention throughout his explanation was intense, unwavering. For some reason, which at the moment he found difficult to explain to himself, he felt he owed her this explanation.

He told her about Parrish’s file missing from the health club records, but he held back other details, his sense of being followed, his apartment searched, the incident with the FedEx package. She would definitely think he was paranoid.

“Anyway, I did find out where he lived and I landed here.” He shrugged. “If he doesn’t show, he doesn’t show. Case closed.” They exchanged glances. “Hell, its kind of crazy. It wasn’t like he was a close friend. Maybe I should just back off.”

“People move. This is Washington. High turnover,” Susan said, looking up at the ceiling.

“All I wanted was the guy’s telephone number. That’s what started it.” He felt himself moving into forbidden territory.

“Started what?”

For some reason, she remained interested, which encouraged him to continue. It seemed so long ago that someone was actually interested in what he had to say.

“Sorry. You’ll think I’m round the bend.”

“What do you care what I think?” A brief silence hung between them.

“I think I’m being followed. Worse, I’m sure someone has been in my apartment, going through my stuff.” He laughed nervously. “It started when I began to make inquiries about Parrish. What did I tell you? I must sound creepy.”

“You do. Hell, I’m a nurse. I’ve heard worse. Carlton, my ex-boyfriend would have said: ‘All in the head.’ He should know. The thing with Parrish and me was all in his head.”

She smiled, revealing incredibly white, even teeth. He felt the beginnings of something again, but he fought it away. Thoughts of Margo surfaced, immediately bringing back the memory of her betrayal.
Never again.
A warning bell clanged in his mind.

“The thing with Parrish?”

It was beginning to make sense to him now. Parrish, apparently was more than a neighbor, hence her invitation for coffee. More warning bells clanged. He waited for her to continue.

“Carlton is…well…. He became fixated on Parrish.”

“Fixated?”

“Jealous. More than jealous. Off the wall jealous.” Susan suddenly put up her hand in protest. “No. He had absolutely no cause. Parrish is not exactly my type. His problem, unfortunately, is that he was…there.” She nodded, indicating the apartment across the hall. “Except that he really wasn’t.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Yes, you do. You said it. He was not very communicative. Actually, we forced ourselves on him at the beginning. Invited him for dinner. He was polite, but disinterested, withdrawn.”

“That’s Parrish.”

“We would meet in the building occasionally, grunt a hello and that was it. People who live in places like this aren’t really neighbors. They’re sort of thrown together by circumstances. We were busy people. Carlton is a doctor, a resident. I’m a nurse. Our hours were erratic. It doesn’t exactly make for neighborly friendships.”

“So why the jealousy?” Cooper asked.

“He convinced himself that while he was away, I was having this torrid affair with Parrish.” She shook her head. “No way.”

He wanted to tell her how he was spared the experience. With Margo, he was clueless and, therefore, did not have the pain of suspicion.

Which is worse?
he wondered.
Not to know until told? Or merely to suspect…and agonize
.

“He really worked himself up to a frenzy. You never know about people.”

“That’s for sure,” Cooper agreed.

“Sometimes he got violent. He punched me around pretty good.” She paused. A grimace of pain passed over her face. “There was this horrible scene. I screamed for help. Parrish actually crashed the door in. He’s strong as an ox, and Carlton was no match for him. When it was over, Carlton was out the door.”

“And Parrish?”

“Parrish went back to being Parrish.”

“What happened the next time you saw him?” he asked.

“I haven’t seen him since that night. Actually, I’m glad. I’ve been so embarrassed by the whole thing. Before I come in or out of here, I make sure the coast is clear. I don’t know if I could face the man.”