Fall Guy

did,“ she said. „The palette knife was right there on the ground where he dropped it.“
    „Jin Mei's knife?“
    „Yes.“
    „Jin Mei was out painting when Parker broke the lock?“
    „No, she forgot the knife the day before. She left it on the table. No matter. No one else uses the garden. Even the others“—she pointed to the ceiling—“they hardly ever come out. Maybe if there's a party for the two buildings, once a year. Otherwise, it's just the first floor.“
    „What about Detective O'Fallon?“
    She shook her head. „Not that I saw. He was at work all the time, not sitting in the garden.“
    „Did you see or hear anything else? Anything unusual?“
    „I told them the same. I didn't see anything
    else. I mind my own business. I take care of Emma.“
    „And you weren't out in the garden earlier, like around eight?“
    „I was in here. I didn't get her out until around noon, maybe twelve-thirty.“
    „And with the air conditioner and the TV...“
    „I didn't hear the accident.“
    I went back to O'Fallon's apartment and got two twenties and my business card from my wallet, taking them back across the hall.
    „If you think of anything else, would you let me know?“
    „I thought you didn't know him,“ she said, screwing up her face. „I thought he's not your family. Why are you asking these questions?“
    „He asked me to take care of things for him. I don't know what it is he wanted,“ I told her. Her dark eyes looked blank. I don't think Netty Land understood what I was talking about. I wasn't sure I understood it myself. I heard the baby starting to cry. Netty put the money in her pants pocket and closed the door.
    I went back into O'Fallon's, going straight for the bathroom again, hoping the contents of his medicine cabinet might speak to me, hoping for an answer from anywhere. I picked up some of the ordinary things I found there, holding them in my hands, putting them back where they'd been: aspirin, Tylenol, Irish Spring soap, razor blades and razor; a bristle brush without a handle, the kind men used to use in pairs; Band-Aids, deodorant; and a prescription bottle, Alocril, the same as I'd gotten from my eye doctor on October 11,2001, to help me with my irritated eyes, the detritus of the Twin Towers still blowing up to Greenwich Village when the wind came north. Next to that, the same as in my medicine cabinet— artificial tears. Despite the real ones, you had to wash your eyes out several times a day, the irony of that not lost on anyone.

CHAPTER 10
    He was waiting at the gate that led to my garden, moving nervously from one foot to the other, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. I saw him in profile first, his black hair pulled back into a long braid that went nearly to his waist, twisted with some kind of cord or string, a feather hanging near the end. He had perfect skin, a straight nose, a strong chin. When he turned, I saw his eyes, a rich, deep brown, more the color of bittersweet chocolate than Turkish coffee, and more lucid than they should have been, given what I'd been led to believe. I knew who he was before he said a word.
    „Mr. Bowling, I presume.“ I didn't offer my hand. Actually, both hands were full, but I wouldn't have offered one anyway.
    „Rachel?“ He slid the cigarette from his mouth and held it for a moment between his long, thin fingers before tossing it into the street, as if he were reading my stand on his habit before deciding whether or not to waste a perfectly good smoke. I had the feeling he could seduce the gold bars out of Fort Knox without lifting a finger.
    I looked at the ember, still alive after the sparks went out, and walked over to crush it with my shoe. I knew I was just being a bitch. No dog was headed our way, Dashiell was nowhere near it and it would have gone out in less than a minute on its own.
    „What is it you want?“ I asked, not taking out my keys.
    „I thought you might want to talk to me,“ he said, bending closer so that he could lower his voice to a near whisper and I'd still hear him over the traffic from Hudson Street and the whir of the air conditioners.
    „Did you?“
    He'd said his piece. He waited. The truth was, I did want to talk to him, but I didn't want to say so.
    „And you're hoping to get your things,“ I said.
    „I am. The police said that you ...“ He stopped and smiled, showing me his perfect white teeth and the half-dimples his smile made in his cheeks, visible even beneath the artful one-day