Tales of the City 01 - Tales of the City

and herself. Well, you know … you got one when you moved in, didn’t you?”
    “One what?”
    “A joint … taped on your door?”
    Norman looked puzzled. “No.”
    “Oh … well …”
    “She taped a joint on your door when you moved in?”
    Mary Ann nodded. “It’s a house custom, sort of. I guess she must’ve … forgotten or something.”
    Norman smiled. “My feelings aren’t hurt.”
    “You don’t smoke, huh?”
    “No.”
    “Well, maybe she could tell. She’s awfully intuitive.”
    “Yeah … maybe. Brian says she used to work in a bookshop in North Beach.”
    Mary Ann failed to see the connection. “Yeah. He told me that too. I’ve never asked her.”
    “She’s not from around here, is she?”
    “Are you kidding?” said Mary Ann, grateful for the chance to use the line herself. “Nobody’s from around here.”
    “She sounds Midwestern to me.”
    “Yeah … she and Mona talk a lot alike, I think.”
    “Mona?”
    “The red-headed woman on the second floor.”
    “Oh.”
    He looked a little lost, Mary Ann felt. Poor thing. Someday, she hoped, he would learn to feel part of the family.

The Clue in the Bookshop
    N ORMAN LEFT MARY ANN’S APARTMENT JUST BEFORE noon.
    He spent the next three hours exploring bookshops, with no success. Finally, on Upper Grant, he discovered a dusty hole-in-the-wall
    sandwiched between a leather shop and an organic ice cream parlor.
    He sniffed around for several minutes before approaching the old man in the back.
    “Anything on sky-diving?”
    “Huh?”
    “Sky-diving. Parachuting.”
    “Sports?”
    “Yeah. A sport.”
    The old man lifted his cardigan to scratch his side, then pointed to a shelf just above eye level. “That’s all we got on sports.” He conveyed an air of mild disgust, as if Norman had asked him for the pornography section.
    “Well, it doesn’t matter, anyway. I just wanted to get a look at the old place. I used to come here a long time ago. You’ve fixed it up real nice.”
    “Think so?”
    “Yeah. Real tasteful. You don’t see many places like this anymore. It’s nice to know some people still have respect for the past.”
    The old man chuckled. “I got plenty of past … I guess I oughta have plenty of respect.”
    “Yeah … but you’re young at heart, aren’t you? That’s what counts. You’re a lot easier to deal with than that woman who used to run the place.”
    The old man eyed him. “You knew her?”
    “Not well. She struck me as a real disagreeable lady.”
    “Never heard that about her. A little peculiar, maybe.”
    “Peculiar as hell. You bought the place from her?”
    The old man nodded. “About ten years ago. Been here ever since.”
    “That’s nice to hear. A place like this needs some … stability. I guess Mrs. Whatshername went back East … or wherever she came from?”
    “Nope. Still here. I see her off and on.”
    “I wouldn’t have figured that. She didn’t seem too happy here. She was always gabbing about … hell, someplace back East. Where was she from, anyway?”
    “I guess you could call it back East. She was from Norway.”
    “Norway?”
    “Maybe Denmark. Yeah … Denmark.”
    “I guess I’ve got her mixed up with somebody else.”
    “Name Madrigal?”
    “Yep. That was it.”
    “She was from Denmark, I’m sure. Born here … I mean the States … but she lived in Denmark before she bought the shop. I guess that’s where she picked up her funny customs.”
    “She had some funny ones, all right.”
    The old man smiled. “See that cash register?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Well, when I took the place over … the day I moved in … I found a note pasted there that said, ‘Good luck and God bless you’ … and you know what else?”
    Norman shook his head.
    “A cigarette. A hand-rolled cigarette. Stuck up there with a piece of tape.”
    “Peculiar.”
    “Mighty peculiar,” said the old man.
    As Mona and D’orothea entered Malvina’s, Norman was striding down Union Street toward Washington Square.
    Mona nodded to him, but the gesture went unnoticed.
    “He’s in our building,” she explained. “He’s afraid of his own shadow.”
    “I can tell.”
    “He watches me, though. He doesn’t talk much, but he watches me.”
    Upstairs at Malvina’s, they sipped cappucinos and reconstructed the missing years.
    “I’ve lost track,” said Mona. “What happened to Curt?”
    “Lots … Sleuth for a year or so. A couple of new soaps, then one of the big roles in Absurd