Free The Bum's Rush by G. M. Ford Page B

which to build one, the city and the state had hit upon
a novel solution. They closed two of the overpasses that crossed the
freeway, bridged the space between with steel and concrete, and built a
massive, greenglassed temple of commerce directly on top of the busy
interstate. Creative government at its finest.
    This time, as soon as I recrossed the highway, I
took a hard right on Hubbell, driving down, seemingly into the basement
of the city. Hubbell Street was virtually buried now, the rerouted
freeway roaring in its front yard, the thirty-foot, ivy-covered
retaining walls keeping it in perpetual shade, giving it a nearly
medieval quality. Two blocks down, I found it, a splintered little
thirty-yard section of Union running nearly straight uphill, wedged
hard between the interstate and the Convention Center parking garage.
    I parked the Fiat in a wide turnout facing the
northbound interstate traffic and walked diagonally back across Hubbell
to 905, a five-story blond brick block of a building, dwarfed by the
surrounding jungle of steel and concrete, as dated and out of place as
a flapper at fetish night. The leadedglass transom read, "The Ivy.
1927."
    The door security system told me that Karen
Mendolson lived in 505 and that the manager, Gladys Skeffington, was in
166. I rang 166 and was instantly greeted with a harsh buzzer and the
sound of the automatic lock snapping back. I stepped inside onto the
wild purple floral carpet and followed the signs around the corner to the left.
    Gladys Skeffington was waiting for me in her
apartment door. She was about seventy, wearing a mumu in a bright
orange floral print. Her rolled and segmented arms and legs seemed to
be sewn to the edges of the garment, allowing the rest of her to remain
completely at large, moving apparently at random beneath the three
acres of bright fabric like an overheated Lava Lamp.
    Either she had considerably overestimated the
surface area of her lips, or she considered the application of lipstick
to be a far more creative enterprise than most. Horizontally it reached
nearly around to her ears; vertically it ended just beneath her nose.
Under other circumstances, the abundance of makeup could have lent a
festive effect. Her facial expression suggested otherwise.
    ''Wadda you want?'' Her voice was an octave lower
than mine. I found myself totally at a loss for words. She stood there
slowly chewing on her gums, looking up at me. Strings like little brown
rubber bands connected her lips as she worked them up and down.
    "I'm looking into the disappearance of Karen Mendolson."
    "Who says she's disappeared?"
    "The people down where she works are concerned. She hasn't -"
    "What would those two yo-yos know?" She went back to her chewing.
    "I was hoping that maybe you could "
    "Why should I?" More chewing. I looked away.
    "Why not?" Two could play at this game.
    "I already told those other two idiots."
    "How about making it three?"
    She looked me up and down twice.
    "Well, you're a bit on the beat-up side, but you're still better-looking than those other two," she said finally.
    I gave her my best Boy Scout posture. "At your service."
    She waved a ridged finger in my face. "Don't be
gettin' smarmy with me neither, Buster. Like I'm some old fart. Just
because I've got some wear on my tires don't mean I'm ready for the
junkyard."
    I hunched my shoulders and silently denied all.
    Unconvinced, she tapped me twice with the finger. "I could still leave the likes of you for dead. Wadda you think of that?"
    "I think maybe you overestimate both of us," I said.
    She managed a small smile. "We'll see." She pulled
the door open, turned her back, and shuffled into the room. I took this
as an invitation and followed her in. She stopped, turned, and looked
at me.
    "Wait here. I'll make some tea," she said,
massaging her gums. She moved me aside and headed back the way we'd
come toward what I presumed to be the kitchen.
    Hermetically sealed. The place smelled of fresh
cabbage and