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“I don’t know. I guess I’m getting involved,” she said regretfully. “I want to help.”
“I could be a murderer,” he said ruefully. “Do you want me in your car?”
“Are you a murderer?”
“No. I don’t have the energy.”
They laughed at the same time, both feeling exhausted with life; no words needed to be spoken.
“Are you about done?”
“I’m done,” he said, gathering up his lunch trash.
“Well, take me to Andover Street.”
They cleared the table and walked out into the hot Southern California sunshine.
“The fog is gone until tomorrow,” he said, shielding his eyes.
“Ugh, I forgot to call work,” she said, unlocking the car doors. “I’d better do that now.”
While they stood with the car doors open, she quickly made the call. They got into the car and she started it.
“I’m so sorry. My air-conditioning doesn’t work. This heat is really miserable for June.”
“No problem. What do you do for a living?” he asked, opening the window.
“I work for a little paper.Beach News?”
“I know that paper,” he said. “What do you do?”
“Right now I try to get people to advertise in it. But my major in college was journalism, so I write stories and interview people.” She didn’t mention that her father had bought the paper, ostensibly for her.
“Are you going to write about this? Homeless guy eats raw tuna with money he got begging?”
“No. I promise I won’t write about you unless you want me to.”
They didn’t talk as she drove through the beach community, arriving at Andover.
“The house is in the middle of the block. Six two six. That one right there.” He pointed at a lavish white stucco building hidden back in the palms. “The gate code is forty-six fifty.”
She had to open the door to reach the keypad. “What was it again? Too many numbers.”
He laughed and repeated it for her.
“Wow, nice place.”
It was really beautifully landscaped with towering palm trees and an evergreen with feathery needles. The house was rambling, too. She wondered why hisfriendcouldn’t spare a room.
“Pull around back.” She did as he directed. “It’s that place.”
The building was a lot nicer than a storage shed, a small stucco structure with a red tile roof. But when they got out of the car and walked to the building, she could see that it was really nothing more than a shed they’d use to store pool toys. It made her a little angry, but she wouldn’t pass judgment. It was possible the guy couldn’t be trusted in the house.
He opened the door, stepping back to show her the space. At least it had a sink and small dorm fridge with a microwave placed on top of it. A toaster oven sat on a table with a chair; apparently where he’d eat his meals alone. There was a neatly made up cot in the corner and a metal clothes rack with what she assumed was his wardrobe lined up tidily. Next to the toaster, a laptop and books took space on the table he appeared to be using as a desk, as well.
In the heat of midday, the shed was stifling.
“How is it sleeping at night?”
