Spiral

the phone again. After a minute, he said, ”Sorry, no answer period.”
    I was beginning to feel a little stupid. ”And there’s no way you can let me in without somebody vouching for me?”
    ”Correct, sir.”
    ”But I came in yesterday when Clinton was on duty.”
    ”Someone has to authorize a visitor for each day, and your name’s not in my book for this shift.”
    I didn’t want to call Duy Tranh. ”Could you try Don Floyd?”
    Lenny perked up. ”Mr. Floyd? Of course.”
    A few seconds after he punched in a number, I could see Lenny’s lips moving against the receiver before he nodded and hung up.
    I said, ”You reached him?”
    ”Yessir. Mr. Floyd thinks seeing you again might prove to be... interesting.”
    Lenny gave me simple directions to the right building before raising the gate.

    "You’re sort of lucky to catch me, John.” Don Floyd tilted his head behind him. ”I was about to walk over to Court One, watch an acquaintance of yours play some.”
    Floyd Was dressed in another tennis outfit, and even the same Kangol cap, I thought, but the sweater vest of the day was a lemon yellow. ”I appreciate your vouching for me.”
    ”With Lenny at the gate? The visitor procedure’s a necessary precaution, but I remembered how you kind of stirred things up last time, so I figured you might be worth a second look.”
    The wide smile that made him seem twenty years younger, but he dropped it when he looked down at my bandage. ”What happened to your arm?”
    ”Just a cut.” I lowered my voice. ”Actually, Don, I’m a little worried about someone else.”
    ”Who?”
    ”A resident here, Malinda Dujong.”
    ”Malinda? Fine woman, and a wonderful player. Won a couple of tournaments till she started spending more time on that spiritual advising she does.”
    I explained about Dujong trying to reach me, then not returning my calls.
    Floyd ruminated. ”Well, now that you mention it, I haven’t seen her around the courts for a few days, and that’s a mite odd for the lady, even with all her advising lately.” He looked at me squarely. ”Come on.”
    We walked to one of the Mediterranean-style buildings, Floyd going up to a first-floor door and knocking. He put his ear to the wood, shook his head and knocked harder. ”Nothing?” I said.
    Floyd looked at me, then walked over to the next door. His knock was answered this time, though I couldn’t see by whom.
    ”Why, Don,” said a very pleasant female voice through the open doorway.
    ”Shirley, how you doing?”
    ”Just fine. And you?”
    ”Couldn’t be better.”
    ”What brings you visiting?”
    ”Gentleman here’s been trying to get hold of your neighbor, Malinda. You seen her these last few days?”
    The door opened wider, and an attractive woman in her sixties smiled out at me.
    ”John Cuddy,” I said.
    ”Shirley Nole.” Her face darkened. ”You know, Me Sue asked me that same question just this morning.”
    I wasn’t sure I got the name. ”Me Sue?”
    ”Another player here, from Korea. She spells it ‘M-J S-O-O.’”
    Floyd said, ”Did Mi Soo tell you why, Shirley?”
    ”I guess she had a game scheduled with Malinda for ten, but Malinda never showed up.”
    Now Floyd darkened, too. ”That’s not like her, would you say?”
    ”No, not at all.” Nole looked from Floyd to me and back again. ”I have a key to Malinda’s door, for deliveries or watering her plants if she’s traveling.”
    I said, ”Ms. Dujong ask you to water the plants recently?” A pause. ”No. No, she hasn’t.”
    Don Floyd let out a breath. ”Shirley, I think maybe we should use that key of yours.”
    Nole disappeared briefly, then came through her doorway, key in hand. We walked over to Dujong’s, Nole knocking and calling out ”Malinda” twice before sliding the key into the lock.
    As she pushed the door open, I braced myself for that sickly sweet odor of decaying flesh, but all that greeted us was heat and stuffiness.
    I touched Nole on the arm. ”Maybe I should go in first.” She turned sideways and let me pass.
    I entered a foyer, kitchen to the right, living and dining areas in front of me. No sign of a struggle or even a search. In fact, everything was orderly to the point of immaculate, though the air felt as though the windows had been sealed for a year.
    Behind me, Nole said, ”Malinda likes it warm in here, but not this warm.”
    I walked by a closed closet door on the long wall to the left, tennis trophies dominating an