The super swung open the door and waved Abe into the room. “You caught me just in time,” he said. “I was gonna call the Salvation Army to come get the rest of this stuff.”
Days before, Abe had gone through Lucille’s meager possessions, selecting a few mementos, leaving the rest for the super to dispose of in any way he wanted. Now he was relieved to see that the piano remained, along with a scarred kitchen table and a second table Lucille had used as a desk. “You said she was paid up till the end of the month, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I have this woman who-”
“Gotcha,” the super said with a leering grin.
Abe looked at him sternly. “Needs a place,” he said emphatically. He peered about the room a final time. “No creeps in the building, right?”
The super shrugged. “There’s creeps in every building, but the ones we got here, they wouldn’t hurt nobody.”
“Okay,” Abe said.
On the way back to the bar, he replayed the last few minutes of his encounter with Samantha Damonte, saw again the desperation that had suddenly overtaken her. He knew that no matter what he might have done at that moment, she would have raced away, told him nothing more, simply disappeared, leaving nothing behind.
But she had left something behind, a tiny bit of information, and he was going to use it.
“Hello.”
Her voice still bore the same strain he’d heard when she’d fled the bar.
“It’s Abe,” he said. “Morgenstern.” He waited for her to respond, but she offered nothing. “You okay?”
“Yes.” Her tone was very nearly metallic.
“You remember telling me that you lived in a hotel?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that singer, the one I told you about, the one who died? She had a place in the Village, not far from the bar,” Abe said. “She had a month left on her rent. So, the thing is, I thought you might want to stay there instead of where you are.” He could not interpret her continued silence, so he took a bold swing. “It would be free until the end of the month. I don’t know… I mean… what your
… situation is… but staying at a hotel, that’s expensive, right?”
“Why are you doing this?” she asked quietly.
From her voice, he couldn’t tell if she were suspicious or mystified, felt him a threat or just an enigma.
He wasn’t sure himself, he realized. Maybe it was that little charge he’d felt at his first look at her. Or maybe it was the strain in her eyes, the trembling in her hands, the way her voice turned icy when she’d said “Forever,” then left the bar.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s just that… there’s this room, and I figure, who better to have it for a few weeks than-” He stopped and tried to ease her with a quick chuckle. “Than another torch singer.”
Another silence.
“So, you want to take a look at it? I could meet you there, show you around a little. Tomorrow morning, maybe, before I go to the bar.”
“Okay,” she said. “Thanks.”
Abe gave her the address, then took a chance and said, “May I ask you a question?”
A pause, then, “All right.”
“Are you… is something-” He stopped, thought better of his question, and decided on another direction. “Whatever it is, you can beat it, Samantha.”
He heard a soft breath through the line, though “Thank you” was all she said.