The Third Rule Of Ten: A Tenzing Norbu Mystery by Gay Hendricks, Tinker Lindsay Read Free Book Online Page B

illegible. That meant a door-to-door. Three floors, six apartments per floor. I began at the beginning. The first two apartments were empty, or else no one was answering my knock. At the third door, I got a response, but the tiny, wrinkled woman, her walnut face bound in a flowered scarf tied tightly under her chin, spoke no English. I moved on.
    Finally, upstairs on the second floor, in the second apartment, I got lucky again. A young Latino man not only opened the door but spoke English, and he used that English to invite me inside, once I told him why I was there.
    “Sure,” he said. “I know Clara. Best refried black beans in the city. She’s Sofia’s cousin, right? She visits here a lot.”
    “You know Sofia?”
    “Not well enough.” He grinned. “But that may have just changed.” He pointed to a cage in the corner, half-covered with a striped beach towel. “Sorry about the towel. The bird wouldn’t shut up.”
    He crossed the room and pulled off the towel. A gray parrot sporting a crown of yellow feathers and two orange spots for cheeks pinned us with a beady-eyed stare. “Cockatiel,” the young man said.
    SQUAWK!
    He covered the cage quickly. “See what I mean? Harsh.”
    He indicated a lumpy sofa, and we sat. The apartment consisted of a 12-by-12-foot square that housed a twin bed; a desk and chair; a small sofa; a tiny kitchen area, including a wooden tray-table set up to eat on; one window; a bathroom the size of a postage stamp, and a cockatiel in a cage. No balcony.
    “I’m bird-sitting,” he explained. “Sofia came by earlier today in a big rush and asked me if I’d watch it for her. She loves that bird. No joke.”
    “When was that?”
    “Let me think. Maybe two, three hours ago? She seemed pretty stressed.”
    “And Clara?”
    “I haven’t seen her for a few days. I’m Carlos, by the way.”
    “Ten,” I answered.
    “Ten?”
    “Ten.”
    “Cool. So what, Clara’s in some kind of trouble? Hard to believe.”
    I explained that an employer of hers was concerned and had hired me to look into her absence. “Can you show me Sofia’s apartment?”
    “Sure. Two doors down,” Carlos said. I followed him into the hallway. The corridor was poorly lit, the linoleum underfoot sticky. A strong scent of stewing meat wafted from under one doorway, and I remembered I was starving.
    “We’re the only Latinos in the building,” he said over his shoulder. “So, you know, we kind of got to know each other by default. Still, it’s all good. My neighbors leave me alone, the rent’s cheap, and I can catch the Red Line at Western and Hollywood to go downtown. I work two jobs, and at night I go to LACC. I’m studying to be a teacher. “
    I found myself liking Carlos more and more.
    “Here you go,” he said. “Whoa. Shit, man. That’s not good.”
    We stared at the wooden door frame. The jamb was splintered, as if the door had been jimmied open. I motioned Carlos behind me and slipped my right hand inside my windbreaker, curling my palm around the Wilson’s wooden handle.
    “Hello?” I said. “Sofia? Clara?” I nudged at the door with my foot. It swung open, revealing a one-room boxy studio identical to Carlos’s. Either Sofia was the worst housekeeper in the world or someone had ransacked the place. A pullout futon lay in pieces, the mattress and pillows shredded, the wooden slats broken. A small coffee table was overturned, and torn clothing and broken dishes littered the floor. An entire sack of birdseed had been dumped onto a woven throw rug.
    “Did Sofia leave you a key, by any chance?” I said.
    “Um.”
    “Because if she did, technically, you’re in charge of her place while she’s gone.”
    Carlos was a bright boy. “In that case, I’m sure she did.”
    “Care to invite me in?”
    “ Por favor. ” He walked through the door.
    I followed him in. I executed a quick visual search for signs of a violent altercation or hasty departure. No visible bodies. No bloodstains. No