Rachel Alexander 02 - The Dog who knew too much

wanted you to have them, you know, before.”
    “What are you talking about?” I asked, looking for a card and not finding one.
    “The old boyfriend. I mean, Mr. Wilcox. I guess he wanted you to get those before he came over,” he said. Then he began shining up his brass name tag with the heel of his hand to distract me from the fact that, according to his job description, he was out of line in commenting on my personal life. Since I didn’t raise my eyebrows or inhale sharply, he looked back up after a moment
    “You mean Mr. Wilcox sent these, Eddie? There’s no card .“
    “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he said. He leaned over the high desk. “After he and Ms. Jacobs split,” he said, “he got pretty weird. Used to stand across the street, the other side of the ball field, so he’d like be out of the way, looking up at her window.” He shook his head. “He must of had it real bad for her, to do that No chick’s worth that, far as I’m concerned, but, hey, not everyone thinks the same, am I right?“
    “What are you talking about?” I asked him.
    He leaned over the counter. “Well, I guess they had some kind of fight, you know, a breakup, like over the holidays. But he kept coming around for a while, asking if Ms. Jacobs was home. But when I went to ring her, he always said, Never mind, and he’d just leave. I was really embarrassed for the guy, coming around like that but not even calling up. It was pretty humiliating.”
    “And he’d go wait across the street, like until she walked the dog?”
    “No, it was way later, like after midnight. Ms. Jacobs, she never walked Charlie that late unless she worked late and Charlie’s last walk was the walk home. This was when my shift was over. Twelve thirty, one o’clock.”
    “When you were leaving for the night?”
    “Yeah, right. I’d see him, not right here, you know, not so obvious, but way on the other side of the ball field, where the bums hang out ?“
    “You mean the boccie court?”
    “Around there, right. I’d see him, you know, lurking in the shadows, like leaning on a tree, a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead, like I wouldn’t recognize him, right? It was real dramatic, like something out of a movie, you know what I mean, the ex-boyfriend watching the building, standing there all alone, just staring like that. Gave me the creeps.”
    “But he never came late, used a key to get in?”
    “No, ma’am.”
    “How do you know?”
    “We’re covered here twenty-four hours. If the night man is late, I wait We never leave the door uncovered. I would have seen him.” Of course, he had missed me coming in with Paul.
    “He just stayed there and watched? How long?”
    “From, you know, after they broke up to until she died. Sad thing, about her dying, your cousin. Such a pretty girl. Always considerate, too. Not like some of them,” he said, tilting his head toward the elevator doors to indicate those residents who were less considerate than my cousin Lisa.
    “I meant, how long did he stand there? Ten minutes? An hour ?“
    “Oh, that I couldn’t tell you, Ms. Alexander. I don’t know how long he was there because I stay behind the desk, you know. So I only noticed him when I was leaving. But figure it was winter, right, so how long could he a stood it out there in the cold?” He shrugged his shoulders. “ Musta been really stuck on her, your cousin, to take the breakup so hard.”
    “You mean to stand out there in the cold watching her windows ?“
    “Yeah, and all the stuff he sent.”
    “Stuff?”
    “The flowers, for example. A half dozen roses, sometimes a dozen, two, three times a week. All like this, with no card,” he said, pointing to my roses. “The delivery guy would have his slip with Ms. Jacobs’s name and the address, but there was never one of those little envelopes pinned to the cellophane. Like Ms. Jacobs was fooled. You know what I mean?”
    I nodded.
    “There were presents, too. I mean, money was no object. Little packages used to come, UPS, just her name and address on them, never a return address. She worked late sometimes, Ms. Jacobs, so I’d hold them here for her. Once she opened one in front of me. It was, you know, from Tiffany’s, in that little blue box they have, with a white ribbon tied in a perfect bow on top, kind of thing you women go crazy for, am I right? But Ms. Jacobs, she didn’t go crazy for it. She was pissed. ‘Can I leave this with you, Eddie?’ she said, and she