Free The Amazing Harvey by Don Passman Page A

spent the morning on the phone while I worked through the filing, which seemed to grow faster than I was putting it away, like the insect monsters in some space movie.
    She left for an appointment late morning, so I took the opportunity to extend my lunch hour a bit and drove toward Sherry’s apartment. On the way, I called Dr. Carly from the laboratory on her cell.
    When she answered, I said, “Dr. Banks, this is the barista from Starbucks, and there’s an incredibly charming young man here who’s insisting on buying you a coffee tonight.”
    She laughed. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”
    â€œOne of my better qualities. How about it?”
    â€œWell, since you had the barista call me, I don’t see how I can refuse. But not tonight.”
    We arranged to meet at the Starbucks in Westwood the next night.
    She said, “There’s one embarrassing thing.”
    â€œI like embarrassing things.”
    â€œWell … I’ve forgotten your name.”
    *   *   *
    I parked a block away from Sherry’s apartment, in the opposite direction from where I’d parked the day before, and walked toward her building. How do I get in? Not a good idea to alert Jim, the Hawaiian-shirted apartment manager. Can’t pick the security gate’s lock out in the open. Maybe buzz Ms. Bathrobe? I didn’t get her name. Do a random buzz? That never works. Even if it does, they’re suspicious.
    Maybe the old “Wait for someone to go in and grab the gate.” How do I stand around and not look like a stalker?
    I walked slowly past the building. The lock on the security gate was better made than the ones inside. It’d take a long time to pick. I looked around. Don’t see anyone heading for the gate.
    I turned the corner, walked a half block, and turned down the alley behind Sherry’s building. The rear of the apartment house was built with an overhang held up by round black metal pillars, with several cars parked under the eve. The back door was wrought-iron mesh. Same kind of high-security lock as the front gate. Neighboring apartments looked down on it. Can’t pick it without risking an audience.
    I started to circle the block, then stopped.
    Hmm.
    The cars.
    I walked back. Wonder if any of the cars have alarms? Probably not the battered Ford from the seventies. There. That Kia looks pretty new. It’s parked all the way into a space, so the neighbors can’t see me if I stand in front of it.
    I went around the side of the car next to the wall, turned myself sideways, and inched forward. The car was too close to the stucco wall. Couldn’t quite get to the front. I squeezed as far forward as I could manage and got my foot on the bumper. I stepped hard, then let it go. The car bounced a little.
    No alarm.
    I stood up on the bumper and bounced up and down.
    Kept going.
    Harder.
    The alarm shrieked out an escalating whooop.
    Ow. That is seriously loud.
    I scoogied out of the tight space, hurried over beside the Ford, and squatted down. The Kia alarm switched to a pulsing buzz.
    Is this stupid? What if the apartment manager comes out?
    The alarm went back to a whoop.
    Where’s the car owner? Are these people deaf?
    The back door of the building rattled, then swung open. A woman carrying a small child stepped out, both of them grimacing from the noise. She looked around, frightened, then held her keys toward the car.
    Go. Now. While her attention is on the car. I straightened up, sidestepped along the wall, caught the door as it closed, and hurried into the building. I heard the car alarm stop. My ears were still ringing.
    I took a few steps down the dim hallway, then stepped into the stairwell. Don’t want that woman to see me when she comes back.
    I heard the metallic groan of the back door, then the woman’s voice talking as she went past. “Shhh, honey, it’s okay.”
    Steps going farther down the