“Who the heck would need to lock himself in?” I ask.
“That’s what we’ve been thinking. Who the heck,” Lary says and looks back at Sphinx.
Sphinx is all pensive. Spring cleaning of the soul, no doubt.
“I would expect some knocking going on right about now. Maybe even a bit of shouting. And then whoever answers would be the one who’s locked in there,” I suggest.
“True. But what for?” Humpback says. “Why would they want to do it?”
We exchange glances. Me, Sphinx, Humpback, Lary, Smoker, and Alexander, with Tubbs in tow.
“It’s probably Blind?” Humpback offers tentatively. “He wasn’t there at lunch.”
“He must be thinking about something important,” Lary says, brightening. “And here we are knocking. Might be very awkward.”
Sphinx and I exchange glances again. Failing to remember any previous occasion when Blind would lock himself in the dorm to think. I drive around the circle once and return.
“Or maybe Black. Killing himself. What? Quite possible, after what happened yesterday. You know . . . Us saying nasty things about his precious dog . . . and stuff. He’s a proud man. Couldn’t live it down,” I say.
“Shame on you,” Humpback says. “We’re on edge as it is.”
I do two more rounds. Alexander squats down by the wall, apparently tired of standing. Humpback is scratching at the number
“Damn!” Sphinx blurts out. “Are we going to stand here all day like statues in front of our own door? I feel stupid.”
“They’re all watching,” Lary says bashfully. “Maybe we can move?”
I look around and see that indeed they are. Watching and even crowding in places. A nasty predicament. I get a rolling start, planning to smash into the door and jostle whoever is on the other side, but Vulture chooses this particular moment to approach, so I have to make it look like I’ve decided to practice driving.
“Issues?” Vulture inquires. “Anything wrong with the door?”
He is leaning foppishly on a cane and swinging a key chain on his pinkie. Naturally, there is more than just keys on it.
Sphinx hesitates.
“I’m not sure we should.”
“Should, definitely should,” I say. “Who knows what could happen. We need to investigate. Still, my money is on Black hanging there. He hasn’t quite been himself these last few days. Brooding.”
“Heavens!”
That was Vulture.
Humpback shakes a fist at me.
The picks jangle, the long wire snakes inside the lock, the hallway audience moves closer, tongues hanging to the side from curiosity, and in the distance I spy Red, cruising in our direction at top speed with a vicious grimace on his face, but we burst inside—with me being pushed in front of everyone else—and manage to slam the door before the noses of those trying to stick them in our business. Vulture gets a pass, since he helped and is therefore entitled to the information.
I quickly cross the anteroom.
“What’s that?” Sphinx asks behind my back.
Someone seems to have had the gall to squeeze in. Shameless is what it is. The intruder is Red. He spits a couple of words into Sphinx’s ear. Sphinx nods and hisses at us.
“Hold on!”
I have no intention of holding on to anything, Red or no Red. I push the door and enter the dorm. It’s empty like a family vault. No one’s hanging, no one’s on the floor with his veins split open, no corpses at all, in fact.
“Look at that,” I say. “No one’s here.”
Lary breathes spasmodically in my ear.
Humpback asks, “So who’s locked it, then?”
And here we see legs dangling off Lary’s bunk. Two of them. Lary gasps and grabs hold of my hair. Legs dangle. Long ones, clad in black stockings. One has a white pump on, the other just the stocking, with a hole in it so that the pink toes are sticking out. There’s something very familiar about those legs. They descend, lower and lower, and then Long Gaby appears at the other end of them, crashes to the floor, and winks at us quite insolently. The shadow around her eyes is all smudged and runny.
Lary lets go of my hair and claws at his heart. Humpback screws his eyes shut and shakes his head. I don’t get it. What’s the big deal? So she’s a bit on the scary side, but not excessively so. And live Gaby is certainly better than dead Black. Just my opinion.
Gaby is a local celebrity. She’s celebrated for her height and lack of brains, but mostly for her surplus of sex drive. Different approaches to deal with it were proposed and tried, to absolutely no avail. The management then decided to refer to it obliquely as “noncompliant behavior.” That “noncompliance” was fought doggedly until everyone got tired both of it and of Gaby herself, and Long was allowed to live as she wished, to her and everyone else’s joy and benefit.
“Hey,” she imparts in the husky voice of a habitual drunkard, and leans over to her stilts, cinching and tucking something down there. The short sweater reveals a pink bodysuit underneath, and her hair is decorated with candied lemon peel, Lary’s delight. Lary moans softly.
“What have you been doing here?” Humpback inquires.
