Turning the key over in his hand, he reached for his own door keys. The notches didn’t match up, and he was willing to bet it wouldn’t fit Alan and Laureen’s door, either.

His mind was reeling, and despite the effects of the brandy, he slipped back into his shirt. He couldn’t sleep now. He staggered to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, which helped a bit, and took three aspirin. If he kept on taking aspirin, maybe the hangover wouldn’t have time to hit between doses.

Three cups of instant coffee later, Hal felt almost human, still a little woozy but clearheaded. It was all beginning to add up. Vanessa hadn’t gone into Laureen’s freezer under her own steam. Someone had carried her there after she was already dead.

“This key’s the key.” Hal spoke aloud and chuckled at his own wit. If he could manage to sober up enough, he’d try it on every door in the building.

FIFTEEN

The Caretaker was scowling as he switched off the shortwave. The Old Man had no idea what hell was breaking loose up here, and again, he’d failed to get through. It was a good thing he’d been able to handle it without any help.

When Vanessa had discovered the loose patch of earth, he’d had no choice. At least he’d covered his tracks brilliantly in the process, even setting the stage with the box of brownies. It was something the Old Man’s soldiers seemed incapable of doing.

He sighed as he shut the door to Jack’s apartment and headed for the elevator. How many gruesome accidents and disappearances would these people swallow before someone got suspicious? Even though he’d always wanted this kind of responsibility, keeping his eye on everyone was exhausting. The only thing that made it possible was the monitor in Betty’s unit. Jack would probably have a heart attack if he knew that he’d done the Old Man a real favor.

There was the sound of irregular breathing in the darkness. “Alan? Are you sleeping?” The voice quavered slightly.

Alan opened his eyes to find Laureen sitting on the edge of the bed, staring out at the big pine tree, her shoulders slumped and her arms folded across her chest as if she were hugging herself for comfort. After twenty-two years of marriage, he knew that she was close to tears.

“What’s the . . . what’s the matter, honey?”

Laureen’s voice was still quavering. “It’s the freezer, Alan, it’s haunting me. Every time I close my eyes, I see what’s in there.”

Alan rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Problems he’d encountered during the day seldom kept Alan awake, but he wasn’t as sensitive as Laureen. He hated it when she cried. Laureen didn’t cry often, but when she did, it took hours to soothe her.

“I’ve got an idea.” He went over and put his arms around her. “Since we’re both awake, let’s go up to the spa and enjoy the Jacuzzi. No one else will be up there and it’ll be nice and relaxing. And then we’ll take a nap on the lounge chairs. The freezer won’t bother you as much if you’re nine floors away from it.”

“That might help,” Laureen agreed hopefully. “But you were sleeping just fine before, and you always get a backache when you fall asleep on those lounge chairs. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. My back won’t bother me if I take along a pillow. I’ll get a bottle of wine and we’ll sit in the Jacuzzi and look at the stars.”

“It’s snowing, Alan. We won’t be able to see the stars.”

“Then we’ll look at the snow. Come on, honey. It’ll be fun.”

“Well . . . all right. I’ll just pack up a couple of things and get into my suit.” Laureen began to feel a little better as she packed up their pillows and blankets. She took her new blue swimming suit out of the drawer and struggled into it. It had a special tummy-slimming panel, but nothing short of a miracle could hide all the extra pounds. She’d been a perfect size eight when they were married, but now, as she caught her reflection in the mirror over the dresser, she sighed. This shade was perfect for her coloring, but she looked like a big blue beach ball.

Alan went into the kitchen and put together two huge sandwiches, roast beef and cheddar on whole wheat bread with a generous dollop of horseradish sauce, and packed them into a picnic hamper. He stuck in a bottle of wine and two glasses and two napkins. Maybe a full stomach and a couple glasses of wine would make Laureen sleepy. Then he went to get some brownies for dessert. He loved Laureen’s brownies.

Alan stopped with his hand on the freezer door, recoiling at the thought of Vanessa in her plastic shroud. Forget the brownies. There was no way he wanted to go in there.

As he walked away, he turned to look back at the freezer door, its brushed steel gleaming in the fluorescent glare of the kitchen lights. Even at wholesale, it had been an expensive addition to their gourmet kitchen, but Laureen found it indispensable for storing those hard-to-find ingredients sometimes required for her show. The industrial appliance was twelve feet long and six feet wide, holding thousands of cubic feet. Its motor was powerful, guaranteed for ten years, and its hum was barely discernible. Although the appliance appeared perfectly benign unless you knew what was inside, Alan certainly couldn’t fault Laureen for being jumpy around it. He was a little jumpy, too. They’d never had a dead neighbor stored in their freezer before.

“Laureen? Ready?”

She appeared almost immediately, carrying a tote bag with their towels, two pillows, two thermal blankets, and a change of clothing for each of them.

Alan’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at his wife. Her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep, but she still looked pretty. And the swimsuit reminded him of one from a long time ago.

Laureen caught his expression and flashed a shy smile. “I just got this suit last week. Do you like it?”

“It looks great. It reminds me of the one you wore on our honeymoon.”

“I didn’t think you’d remember!” Laureen stared at him in pleased amazement. “That’s the reason I bought it. It’s exactly the same shade. Not the same size, of course.”

“So who can wear the same size?” Alan glanced down at his expanded waistline. “People change, Laureen. Besides, you were much too thin when we got married.”

“I was?”

Alan nodded. “We were both pretty skinny back then, and those hipbones of yours almost killed me. Remember?”

“I do.” Laureens’s smile grew wider. “You said you’d have bruises in the morning—and you did. Did you know that I ate nothing but cottage cheese and fruit for three solid months before our wedding?”

Alan looked puzzled. “Why on earth did you do that?”

“I wanted to fit into my mother’s wedding gown and that meant losing thirty-five pounds. It looked nice on me, didn’t it, Alan?”

“You looked ravishing. Where’s our wedding album, anyway? I haven’t looked at those pictures in years.”

“Right here.” Laureen opened the drawer to the table by the couch and handed him a heavy leather book embossed with gold. They’d hired the best photographer in town, and it’d been worth it.

While Laureen looked over his shoulder, Alan opened the book. It was like stepping back in time. “Look at that, Laureen.” Alan pointed to the picture of them at the altar. “We certainly were a handsome couple. And I was right, you did look ravishing.”

Laureen smiled as she examined the photograph, remembering her tears right before the wedding when she thought her hair hadn’t curled right. It looked just fine. Chalk it up to bridal jitters.

Alan flipped the page, “Here’s the one where you’re tossing the bouquet. Who caught it, anyway?”

“Your sister, Shirley. And I had to toss it again because she was already married.”

“Oh, yeah.” Alan nodded. “Pure reflex. In high school Shirl was a star shortstop, so she just reached up and fielded that bouquet.”