“I’m fine,” he says, plopping onto the couch. “Just a little stressed is all. I told you that woman, Ann, got me kicked off the neighborhood association, right? Well, now she’s got the city housing authority on me. I’ve got an inspection tomorrow.”
Rebecca sits down next to him on the couch and places a comforting hand on his knee.
“I keep getting crank phone calls,” he says. “All hours of the night, the phone rings like crazy. I finally took it off the hook.”
That explains why I only got a busy signal when I tried to confirm our dinner tonight, Rebecca thinks.
“She’s turned the whole neighborhood against me,” he complains. “Someone threw a firebomb at the house.”
“A firecracker?”
“No. A bomb. A Molotov cocktail. I had to put it out with a fire extinguisher.”
“Did you call the cops?”
“Yeah, I told them my neighbors are harassing me, but they just told me I need to work it out with them.”
Roy throws his head back and rubs his eyes. He looks terrible. And now that she’s sitting next to him, she can’t help noticing that he has an odor to him as well. How long has it been since he took a shower?
“Please let me talk to this woman,” Rebecca says. “I bet I can help smooth things out.”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s too late for that.”
He is quiet for a moment, and all Rebecca can hear is the sound of the rodents squeaking in their cages. Most of the cages are in the hallway, but there are several in the living room as well. She notices something in one that makes her skin crawl.
“Jesus, Roy, is that one dead?”
They both approach a metal cage full of mice. One of the mice—with white fur and a red nose—lies on its side in the wood chips. A fly is crawling on its face.
“Damn,” Roy mutters. “I guess I forgot to feed these guys.”
Rebecca feels sick to her stomach.
“Speaking of feeding,” he says nonchalantly, “I bet the beast is hungry.”
“Can’t that wait until I leave?” Rebecca says.
“I don’t want her to starve,” Roy says, as if another hour or two would make a difference.
He pulls back the door at the top of the cage and reaches into the squirming mob of mice. They writhe in a frenzied mass as he dips his fingers into the pile. A second later, he lifts a live mouse by its tail.
The little white mouse flails about like a fish hanging from a hook. He carries it through the house, twisting and kicking. Rebecca doesn’t usually like to watch this, but she follows Roy upstairs anyway.
He opens the bathroom door and pulls back the shower curtain. Inside a claw-footed tub lies an eight-foot python, its head bigger than her fist, its shiny skin a yellow color blotted with patches of reddish tan.
“Hello, beautiful,” Roy says to the snake, and Rebecca feels ill when she realizes it’s the same greeting he gives her.
He lowers the mouse into the tub. It tries to scurry up the side of the porcelain, but it can’t get a grip and keeps sliding back down. The snake, moving patiently, starts slithering toward the tiny mouse.
As the python approaches its prey, Rebecca stares at its cold, reptilian eyes. She averts her gaze and finds herself instead looking at Roy’s face. He stares down at what’s about to happen with the same cold detachment as the snake slithering toward its victim.
“Roy,” Rebecca says, her breathing shallow. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Okay,” he says, without looking away.
It’s as if he’s caught in a trance.
Rebecca hurries from the house, almost in a run. The screeching of the mice in the hallway seems to follow her out into the street. She forgot her umbrella but doesn’t go back to get it. The cold rain actually feels good against her hot, clammy skin.
Partway down the block, she stops and puts her hand on a street sign to steady her trembling legs. She gulps in air, quelling the panic attack threatening to overtake her.
When she’s finally calmed her nerves, she looks up and realizes she’s right in front of Roy’s other house, the one that’s been such a source of trouble.
All it takes is a glance at the row house—the siding coming off, the boarded windows, the pile of garbage bags in the yard—and she finds herself agreeing with the woman who lives next door. Any reasonable person would want Roy to do something about the place.
What the hell is happening to my fiancé? she thinks.
CHAPTER 17
ANN PEEKS OUT HER front window.
Roy stands in his yard in the bright sunlight, talking to a man wearing a tie and holding a clipboard. The man had pulled up in a van with CITY OF PITTSBURGH stenciled on the door. Ann can’t hear what they’re saying.
The man points to the garbage and construction debris in the yard, the black bags beaded with water from last night’s rain. Roy scratches his head, looking sheepish. Next, Roy escorts the man into the house. They’re in there for what feels like an excruciatingly long time. Finally, Ann hears the men talking in the backyard, and she peeks through another curtain at them chatting outside.
Roy is all smiles—the same charismatic guy who’d charmed the neighborhood board when she first introduced him.
Ann doesn’t like the idea of eavesdropping, but she leans in close to the window to try to hear.
“I know who ratted me out,” Roy says jokingly.
“We got a call about the property,” the inspector says. “I can tell you that, but I can’t say who it was from.”
“Oh, I know that,” Roy says, jovial. “But I know it’s my neighbor over here. You can assure her that I’ll be getting all of this taken care of right away. She doesn’t have anything to worry about.”
The inspector makes a few more notes on his clipboard, then he pulls off a sheet of paper and hands it to Roy.
“Thanks for helping me out today,” Roy says, still grinning. “I learned a lot about building code.”
The two shake hands, and they walk around the side of the house toward the front. Ann hurries down the hall and looks out the front window.
Roy walks the inspector to his vehicle and waves as he drives away. As soon as the van is gone, the mask on Roy’s face—the friendly, likable young-man mask—disappears and is replaced by someone angry as hell.
He heads right for her door.
“Oh, no,” Ann whispers and retreats into her house.
Roy begins pounding on her door, much as she’d done to his before.
“I know you’re in there!” Roy practically shouts. “I know you ratted me out!”
Ann feels the compulsion to hide, but she doesn’t want to back down to Roy—she’s in the right here, damn it!
She opens the door but doesn’t step outside.
Roy takes the piece of paper in his hand and shakes it in front of her face.
“I hope you’re happy,” he says. “I have to appear in housing court now. And he’s going to send the city health inspector out here, too.”
“It’s not my fault,” Ann snaps, pointing to the garbage in front of the house. “You’ve got rats, Roy. I’ve seen more and more of them.”