Spitting Off Tall Buildings by Dan Fante Read Free Book Online

cretin wallpaper in the laundry room and the floral carpet!’
    ‘Hey!’
    ‘Okay, okay,’ she said, lowering her volume. ‘I heard someone, something. Either the sounds came from the fire escape or the hall bathroom next to my apartment. Just like last time - like somebody breathing hard, you know, humping the wall or something.’
    ‘Okay.’
    ‘Okay…what?
    ‘I’ll put you in another room for tonight.’
    ‘What about this: you go sleep up there! Tomorrow morning at trash collection time let the detectives sift through the dumpsters on Lexington Avenue and gather up your body parts.’
    ‘What do you want me to do?’
    ‘Call 911!…Right now. Immediately!’
    ‘No cops, Ms. Von Hachten. They won’t come anyway.’
    ‘Then go investigate!’
    ‘Okay,’ I said, knowing I was hooked. ‘I’ll go look.’
    I went back down to my apartment. In the closet I located the long house flashlight that Shi had told me to keep handy for emergencies; floods in the basement, boiler room malfunctions. Then I put on my jacket, tucking my pint of Ten High into the pocket.
    On Ms. Von Hachten’s floor I looked in the stairwell at the opposite end of the hall. Nothing. Then, with her behind me, I climbed the next two flights to the top floor to make sure that the heavy door leading to the sundeck was closed andlocked. She insisted that I go out on the roof and check, so I did. It was cold, maybe twenty degrees. I shone my light around, then came back in. Nothing.
    Downstairs outside her apartment, I checked the hall bathroom. I pulled the shower curtain back and looked inside. It was okay. I checked the bathroom window. It was okay too. Secure. Nobody’d gotten in.
    Inside Ms. Von Hachten’s living room her dog Bobo was fast asleep on the couch. I checked her closets. Nothing. Then I inspected the windows, wiggling the latches, undoing the security gadgets Shi had installed, then retightening them.
    Ms. Von Hachten was on the couch next to Bobo, watching me, petting the dog. Her robe’s belt had come loose. Inside, I could make out the nipple of her chunky left breast as it pressed against her nightgown.
    In front of her on the coffee table were half a dozen brown prescription vials. She picked one up, popped the plastic top, then let two blue triangle-shaped tablets slide down into her palm.
    I was still cold from being outside on the roof. Shaking.
    ‘Hey, you’re chilled,’ she slurred. ‘Want a drink of something?’
    ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Whatever you’ve got, I’ll take it straight up. No ice, no mix.’ I was looking at the bulging nipple of her big left tit. ‘You cold too?’
    Ms. Von Hachten folded her robe closed then tied the belt. Her expression was odd. There was an attempt at a smile but not a real smile.
    Dropping her pills on the table, she got up, wobbled, then headed toward the kitchen. At the doorway she stopped, spun back around like a breakdancer, then marched back to the couch, grunting as she flopped down. ‘I forgot,’ she said.
    ‘Forgot what?’
    ‘There was some…gin…I think…but I drank it.’
    The robe was open again. The green silk nightgown was more than half way up her thighs.
    I was smiling. Leering. ‘You’re coming apart there,’ I said. ‘Again.’ I pointed.
    This time she made no effort to close the gown or cover her legs. Instead she locked eyes with me. ‘So…have you checked everything?’
    I didn’t answer. I walked to the kitchen.
    Next to the sink in the trash I spotted the empty fifth of vodka. I opened cupboard doors until I found the whiskey glasses, then I filled two with three fingers each from the pint in my jacket and returned to the livingroom.
    I set her drink and my bottle down on the coffee table. ‘Anything else, Ms. Von Hachten? Laundry? Vacuuming? Your oven need cleaning?’
    She was holding her glass, staring down at the bourbon, speaking quietly. ‘My mother has cancer. She’s back in Intensive Care. Aunt Liz says that this time she