Sue Grafton - T Is For Trespass

“Not at all. Hang on.” I closed the door and slid the chain off the track, then let her in. “Wow. That was quick. I talked to you two days ago. I didn’t expect to see you so soon. When did you get in?”

“Just now. I have a rental car out front. Turns out my boss thought the trip was a fabulous idea, so I flew into L.A. last night and met with clients all day. I didn’t start the drive up until seven, thinking I’d be clever and avoid the rush-hour traffic, but then I got stuck behind a six-car pile-up in Malibu. At any rate, I’m sorry to barge in, but it just dawned on me I don’t have a key to Uncle Gus’s place. Is there any way to get in?”

“Henry has a set of keys and I’m sure he’s still up. It won’t take me a minute, if you want to come on in and wait.”

“I’d love to. Thanks. Do you mind if I use the loo?”

“Be my guest.”

I showed her into the downstairs bathroom, and while she went about her business, I crossed the patio to Henry’s back door and tapped on the glass. The kitchen lights were out, but I could see the reflected flicker of the television set in the living room beyond. A moment later, he appeared in the doorway and flipped on the kitchen light before he unlocked the door. “I thought you were in for the night,” he said.

“I was, but Gus’s niece showed up and she needs a house key.”

“Hang on.”

He left the door open while he found the set of keys in his kitchen junk drawer. “The way you described your phone conversation, I didn’t think she’d come at all, let alone this fast.”

“Me, neither. I was pleasantly surprised.”

“How long will she stay?”

“I haven’t asked her yet, but I can let you know. You may end up dealing with her anyway since I have to go into the office first thing tomorrow morning.”

“On Saturday?”

“I’m afraid so. I’ve got paperwork to catch up on and I like the quiet.”

When I returned to the studio, Melanie was still in the bathroom, and the sound of running water suggested she was washing her face. I took two glasses from the cabinet and opened a bottle of Edna Valley Chardonnay. I poured six ounces for each of us and when she came out, I handed her Gus’s house key and a glass of wine.

“I hope you like wine. I took the liberty,” I said. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks. After three hours on the freeway, I could use a drink. I thought Boston drivers were bad, but people out here are lunatics.”

“You’re from Boston?”

“More or less. We moved to New York when I was nine, but I went to school in Boston and still visit friends from my BU days.” She sat down in one of the director’s chairs and did a quick visual survey. “Nice. This would be a palace in the city.”

“It’s a palace anywhere,” I said. “I’m glad you made it out here. Henry was just asking how long you might stay.”

“Until the end of next week if all goes well. In the interest of efficiency, I called the local paper and placed a classified ad that starts tomorrow and runs all next week. They’ll put it in the ‘Help Wanted’ section-companion, private-duty nurse, that sort of thing-and they’ll also run it in the ‘Personals.’ I wasn’t sure Uncle Gus had an answering machine so I gave his address. I hope that wasn’t a mistake.”

“I don’t see why it would be. You probably won’t be swamped with applicants at this time of year. A lot of people postpone job hunting until after the holidays.”

“We’ll see how we do. In a pinch, I can always try to scare up a temp. I do apologize for my response when you called. I haven’t seen Gus in years so you caught me off guard. Once I decided to fly out, I thought I might as well do it right. Speaking of Uncle Gus, how is he? I should have asked about him first thing.”

“I didn’t get over there to see him today, but Henry did and says he’s about as you’d expect.”

“In other words, screaming and shouting.”

“Pretty much.”

“He’s been known to throw things, too, when he’s really on a tear. Or he did way back when.”

“How are you related? I know he’s your uncle, but where on the family tree?”

“My mother’s side. He was actually her great-uncle, so I guess that makes him a great-great to me. She died ten years ago this past May, and once his brother passed on, I was the only one left. I feel guilty I haven’t seen him for so long.”

“Well, it can’t be easy if you’re on the East Coast.”

“What about you? You have family out here?”

“Nope. I’m an orphan child as well, which is probably for the best.”

We chatted for ten or fifteen minutes and then she glanced at her watch. “Oops. I better get going. I don’t want to keep you up. In the morning, you can give me directions to the nursing home.”

“I’ll be out of here early, but you can always knock on Henry’s door. He’ll be happy to help. I take it you’ll be staying next door?”

“I’d hoped to, unless you think he’d object.”

“I’m sure he won’t care, but I should warn you the place is grim. We cleaned what we could, but it’s iffy in my opinion. Who knows when Gus last had a go at it himself.”

“How bad?”

“It’s gross. The sheets are clean, but the mattress looks like something he dragged in from the curb. He’s a hoarder as well, so two of the three bedrooms aren’t usable at all, unless you’re looking for a place to toss trash.”

“He hoards? That’s new. He didn’t used to do that.”

“He does now. Dishes, clothing, tools, shoes. It looks like he has newspapers from the past fifteen years. There were items in the fridge that were probably capable of spreading disease.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You think it’s better if I stay somewhere else?”

“I would.”

“I’ll take your word for it. How hard is it going to be to find a hotel at this hour?”

“It shouldn’t be a problem. We don’t get many tourists at this time of year. There are six or eight motels just two blocks from here. When I run in the mornings, I always see the vacancy signs lighted.”

Maybe it was the wine, but I was noticing how friendly I felt, possibly because I was so grateful she’d arrived. Or maybe ours was one of those relationships where you butt heads up front and get along swimmingly from that point on. Whatever the dynamic, the next thing I knew I was saying, “You can always stay here. For tonight, at any rate.”

She seemed as surprised as I. “Really? That’d be great, but I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

Having offered, of course, I could have bitten off my tongue, but I felt bound by etiquette to assure her of my sincerity, while she swore it’d be no big deal to bumble around in the dark in search of accommodations-clearly something she was hoping to avoid.

In the end, I made up a bed for her on the fold-out sofa in my living room. She already knew where the bathroom was so I took a few minutes to show her how to work the coffeemaker and where the cereal box and bowls were stowed.

At 11:00 she retreated to her bed and I climbed the spiral staircase to the loft. Since she was still on East Coast time, she turned her light out long before I did. In the morning, I got up at 8:00 and by the time I came downstairs, showered, and dressed, she was already up and gone. Like a good guest, she’d stripped the sheets, which she’d folded neatly and placed on the lid of my washing machine, along with the damp towel she’d used for her shower. She’d refolded the sofa bed and put the cushions back in place. According to the note she’d left, she’d gone in search of a coffee shop and expected to be back by 9:00. She offered to buy me dinner if I was free that night, which as it happened, I was.