The Best American Mystery Stories 2001 by Lawrence Block; Otto Penzler

Author:Lawrence Block; Otto Penzler [Penzler, Lawrence Block; Otto]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

DAN LEONE

Family

From Literal Latté

My brother’s house would look like all the other houses in that part of the state: one of those prefabricated “snap-together jobbers,” he called it. White. Small. Last one on the left after the road turns to gravel, before it ends in a T.

“Dave,” I said, “are you sure you don’t mind seeing me?”

“You’re my brother,” he said.

There was a pause. I moved the phone from my one ear to the other. “Thank you,” I said.

He gave me permission to go on in; the back door would be open. “I get home from work around six,” he said. “If you get there before then. . .” There was another pause, a longer one, which made me think he was really thinking about it. “There’re leftovers in the fridge,” he said. “Clean towels in the bathroom closet. Movies, music. . .Make yourself at home.”

He didn’t say anything about a girlfriend, though, and I caught her entirely off-guard in the bathtub. No bubbles.

“Don’t hurt me,” she screamed, crossing her arms and kicking her legs up in front of her. Water splashed over the edge of the tub.

I jumped back into the hallway and reeled around the corner, out of sight, almost pissing and shitting myself at once.

“Don’t hurt me don’t hurt me don’t hurt me. Money in my purse on the table in there. Oh my god.” I could hear her reaching for a towel, water dripping. “Anything you want. Anything. No need to hurt me.”

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. My knees were clacking against each other like bowling pins, the road still rolling under me, thunder in my ears.

“Purse on the table. Just take it and go. No sense in hurting me. I won’t call the cops. Just get it and go, OK?” She never stopped talking, not even to breathe, which made me consider the possibility that she was planning an ambush, keeping me occupied with her blah blah blah and then, thwack, a toilet plunger through the heart—so I figured I’d better rally the troops and say something.

“Dave’s brother,” I blurted. “Sorry.”

“On the kitchen table. I’ll cooperate,” she said. “Anything you want. What? What did you say?” she said.

“I’m Dave’s brother. I’m not going to hurt you,” I said, between breaths. “I’m sorry I walked in on you. He said I could let myself in. I’m sorry.”

She didn’t say anything.

“I’m really sorry,” I said, hands on knees, thinking: I’ll kill my brother for this.

She was catching her breath too. After a while she said, “I’m drying off.”

“I’m not looking.” I closed my eyes. “I’m not a creep or a criminal. I’m just a guy. Just Dave’s brother,” I said.

“I’ve met all his brothers,” she said. “He didn’t tell me he had any more.”

“I can explain that,” I said. “I’ll show you identification if you want. We’re brothers. I just fell out with the whole family a long time ago. Years. Before I called, we hadn’t spoken to each other in ten years. How

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