Free Duplicate Keys by Jane Smiley Page A

of his walls, painted a dark color, possibly blue, over cream. Looking at them made her feel funny—contained, as if her apartment were a vessel in whichshe and Susan floated from one horror to the next. The lights went off across the street, and Alice sat back on the couch. She let her head slip back, and felt her mouth open. Soon she was asleep.
    I N THE middle of raucous buzzing, she awoke with a start and kicked her shin into the coffeetable. There was silence, then, as she realized she was in the living room, the buzz, flat and blaring, came again. Her shin throbbed, and she sidled carefully around the table, also avoiding the sharp, high runner of her rocking chair. She had just enough wits to press “talk” instead of “door.” “Who is it?” She cleared her voice and repeated, “Who is it?”
    “Ray.”
    “Shit, Ray, it’s the middle of the night.”
    “It’s not that late. I need to talk to you.”
    She buzzed the door.
    He appeared in a moment, oddly apparelled, a different incarnation from the one who had eaten dinner with her a few hours before. His very nice shirt and very tight jeans looked binding and uncomfortable. The shirt was unbuttoned nearly to his waist, revealing a few red hairs and a prominent breastbone. She stepped back into the apartment, and Ray followed. He obviously wasn’t going to take time for preliminaries. He said, “Some people are waiting for me. Listen. You were the last person in Denny’s apartment. What did you see there?”
    “I saw dead people. Plants. Furniture. All the usual.”
    “Anything unusual? I mean, besides Denny and Craig?”
    “I don’t know. Honey asked me that. I don’t remember.”
    “Just think about it.”
    “It’s the middle of the night! You woke me up.”
    “Please. Think, okay?”
    Alice inhaled deeply and rubbed her eyes. “I didn’t see it, Ray. I don’t know what it is, and I didn’t see it.”
    “Think again. Did you look in any closets or cabinets in the kitchen or anything?”
    “Of course not! What do you think I was doing there?”
    “A box maybe, a tin box with poinsettias. On the coffeetable or on the floor, or on one of the other tables.”
    “You don’t have to be so cagey, Ray. I know what you’re talking about and I didn’t see it. It was probably gone.”
    “Did Honey mention it?”
    “No, Susan. She said it was supposed to have been gone two weeks ago.”
    Ray sighed doubtfully and buttoned one of the buttons on the shirt. “Maybe it was gone. Maybe they did sell it. Craig was sure he had a deal. You don’t think—”
    “What?”
    “That the guy he was going to sell it to just killed them instead of paying—”
    Alice smiled. Surely that was it. “Well, there wasn’t any money there. I would have noticed that, I’m sure.”
    “I just wish I knew—” Ray, pacing around the room, looked out the window, then came back and said, “Listen. This is too important for you not to remember. It’s got to come to you at some point, it just has. I’m sure it was the box with the poinsettias—”
    “Are you going to tell Honey about this idea, or am I?”
    “Does either one of us need to? It’s just a theory. Craig didn’t say anything definite. I don’t want—”
    “I can imagine.”
    “Are you going to tell him?”
    “If he asked—”
    “Well, obviously, if he asked, you’d have to, but you don’t have to let him know that there might be something to ask about.”
    “Unless you have a sense of responsibility.”
    “Does a sense of responsibility have to include every little notion?”
    “I don’t know. I think maybe you should—”
    “Don’t say it. Leave it to me.” He turned and kissed her on the cheek. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow. Don’t even think about it until tomorrow, okay?” He opened the door and disappeared down the stairs. Alice locked up carefully behind him, put up the chain, and went to the window. Although he must have left, he was too close to the building for