Sue Grafton - T Is For Trespass

The day she’d offered to go to the market, she’d given herself away. Solana had gone to the kitchen to make up her grocery list. She’d hung a mirror in the kitchen beside the back door and she studied herself now. She was fine. She looked good, exactly as she claimed. Caring, concerned, a woman who had her patient’s best interests at heart. When she returned to the living room, purse under one arm, her wallet in hand, she saw that instead of waiting on the porch as she’d been asked, she’d stepped into the house. The gesture was small, but it smacked of willfulness. This was someone who did what she wanted and not as she was told. Solana could tell she’d had a quick look around. What had she seen that day? Solana had longed to scan the room to see if anything was amiss, but she’d kept her gaze pinned on the young woman’s face. She was dangerous.

Solana didn’t like her persistence, though now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen Kinsey for two or three days. This past Friday she’d gone next door, looking for help getting the old man out of the shower. Mr. Pitts was out and Kinsey had come over instead. Solana hadn’t cared which of them it was. Her purpose was to drop the remark about the old man’s fall. Not because he’d fallen-how could he when she scarcely let him get out of bed-but as a way of accounting for the fresh bruises on his legs. She hadn’t seen Kinsey since and that seemed odd. She and Mr. Pitts were always expressing such concern about the old man so why not now? The two were clearly in cahoots, but what were they up to?

Tiny had told her that Thursday while he was napping, he heard someone moving around in Gus’s house. Solana didn’t see how it could have been Kinsey, because as far as she knew, the woman didn’t have a key. All the same, Solana’d called a locksmith and had the locks changed. She thought back to the Other’s tale about the woman investigator asking questions at the senior facility where the two of them had worked. Clearly she’d been sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.

Solana went back to the old man’s room. He was awake and he’d struggled into a sitting position on the side of his bed. His bare feet dangled and one hand was outstretched, clutching the bed table for support.

She clapped her hands loudly. “Good! You’re up. Would you like some help?” She’d startled him so badly she could almost feel the jolt of fear that had shot up his spine.

“Bathroom.”

“Why don’t you wait here and I’ll bring the bedpan. You’re entirely too wobbly to be prancing around the house.”

She held the bedpan for him, but he couldn’t pass any urine. No big surprise. That was just an excuse for his getting out of bed. She couldn’t imagine what he thought to accomplish. She’d moved his walker to the empty bedroom so in order to get anywhere, he’d have to creep from room to room, holding on to the furniture for support. Even if he reached the back door, or the front door for that matter, he’d have to negotiate the porch steps and then the sidewalk beyond. She thought she might allow him to escape and get as far as the street before she brought him back. Then she could tell the neighbors he’d taken to wandering off. She’d say, Poor old thing. In his flimsy pajamas, he could catch his death of cold. She’d say he’d been hallucinating as well, crazy talk about people being after him.

Mr. Vronsky’s efforts had left him shaking, which she could have warned him about if he’d asked. She helped him into the living room so he could watch his favorite television show. She sat beside him on the sofa and apologized for losing her temper. Even though he’d provoked her, she swore it wouldn’t happen again. She was fond of him, she said. He needed her and she needed him.

“Without me, you’d have to go into a nursing home. How would you like that?”

“I want to stay here.”

“Of course you do and I’ll do everything I can to help you. But no complaints. You must never talk to anyone about me.”

“I won’t.”

“That young woman who comes over. You know who I mean?”

The old man nodded, not meeting her gaze.

“If you complain to her-if you communicate in any way-Tiny will hurt her badly and the fault will be yours. Do you understand?”

“I won’t say anything,” he whispered.

“That’s a good boy,” she said. “Now that you have me, you’ll never be lonely again.”

He seemed grateful and humble in the wake of her kindness. When his show was over, as a reward for his good behavior, she fondled him in a way that would help him relax. Afterward, he was docile and she sensed the bond that was building between them. Their physical relationship was new, but she’d bided her time, easing him into it day by day. He’d been raised a gentleman and he’d never admit what she did to him.

She’d been smart to get rid of the volunteer from Meals on Wheels. She didn’t like leaving the back door unlocked, and she loathed Mrs. Dell, with her fancy salon hairdo and pricey mink coat. She was totally absorbed in her do-gooder image of herself. If Solana was present when she arrived with the meals, she might offer a pleasantry, but there was no conversation between them, and the woman seldom thought to ask about the old man. Solana had put a halt to the service nonetheless. There was always the chance that she might notice something and report it to someone else.

Monday morning, Solana gave the old man a double dose of his “medicine.” He’d sleep for two solid hours, which would give her plenty of time to drive to Colgate and back. She needed to get home to see what Tiny was up to. She couldn’t quite count on him to stay put. She thought she’d bring him back to the house again so she’d have help getting Gus in and out of the shower when he woke. As long as she kept a close eye on the old man, it was probably a smart move to let him have visitors now and again. Before she left, she unplugged the phone in his room and stood by the bed, watching him. As soon as his breathing was deep and regular, she put on her coat and picked up her purse and car keys.

As she was turning the thumb lock, she heard the muffled slam of a car door and she stopped in her tracks. An engine started up. She stepped over to the window and stood to one side with her back to the wall. From that angle, she had a truncated view of the street, but she wouldn’t be visible to anyone outside. When the blue Mustang passed, she saw Kinsey lean forward, craning as though to get one more look at the house. What was so interesting?

For the second time, Solana turned and surveyed the room. Her gaze brushed past the desk and came back. There was something different. She crossed the room and stood there, studying the cubbyholes, trying to figure out what had changed. She pulled out the packet of bankbooks and suffered a painful stab of surprise. Someone had taken off the rubber band and removed the passbook for one of the savings accounts. In addition, the checkbook seemed thinner, and when she opened it she realized the register was gone. Oh dear god. Her gaze returned to the window. Two people had been in the house during the past week-Mr. Pitts and the infuriating Kinsey Millhone. One of them had done this, but how had they managed it and when?

As she unlocked the door to her apartment, she knew the place was empty. The television set was dark. The kitchen counters were littered with the dregs of his meals over the past few days. She moved down the short hall to Tiny’s room and flipped on the overhead light. She was a neat person by nature and she was always appalled by his slovenly ways. She’d badgered him incessantly as a boy, forcing him to tidy his room before she allowed him to do anything else. By the time he reached his teens, he outweighed her by 150 pounds and all the nagging in the world had no effect. He’d sit and look at her with those big cow eyes, but what she said and what she did had no power to move him. She could beat on him all day long, but it only made him laugh. Next to him, she was small and ineffectual. She’d given up her attempts to change or control him. The best she could hope for now was to confine his messes to the home front. Unfortunately, now that she was spending most of her time with the old man, Tiny felt free to live any way he pleased. She checked the bathroom they shared and was annoyed at the sight of his bloody handprints. Sometimes he liked to punch and cut, and he wasn’t always good at cleaning up after himself.