Ghosts In the Heart. Michael J.D. Keller

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СКАЧАТЬ William or Arthur - concierges who, despite their polished images of solicitous urbanity, were never able to conceal an unmistakable conviction that a mere policeman was an inappropriate resident. Sometimes, Mckenzie thought that he continued to live in the Tower because it irritated William.

      “Who are the people who want to see me?” Even as he asked the question, Mckenzie suspected that he already knew the answer.

      There was a pause as if William were ascertaining the identity of Mckenzie’s would-be guests. Of course, he had already done that but the delay allowed him to retain the initiative in the conversation.

      “It is a Mr. And Mrs. Peter Stewart, sir.”

      Upstairs, Mckenzie ruefully shook his head. Some people simply would not quit.

      “All right, let them come up.”

      “Of course, Mr. Mckenzie, and if you like, I would be happy to record their names on an approved guest list for you.” William could grovel and strut simultaneously.

      “Fine. Do that.” Mckenzie hung up with only slightly more emphasis than was necessary. Snapping off the television, he picked up the crystal glass and quickly replaced it in the kitchen cabinet. Once again the apartment had been swept clean of any evidence of his presence. Like an actor in a post-modern existentialist drama, he stepped onto a bare and empty stage waiting for his uninvited co-stars to make their entrances.

      In an elevator gleaming with polished glass and darkly stained wood, Peter Stewart looked lovingly down at his petite and only slightly pregnant wife. Their eyes, his pale blue and hers exotically dark, joined together in an invisible embrace. Peter was smiling broadly, but Brenda Stewart patiently waited until the elevator door silently closed before bursting into laughter.

      “What a pompous asshole,” she gasped after bringing an infectious merriment under control.

      Peter leaned over and lightly kissed his wife’s lips. “Shh,” he whispered. “We cannot have our unborn child hear his or her mother use such foul language.”

      “Hypocrite” Brenda laughingly responded. “you are the one who curses like a drunken sailor.”

      “Only under duress. Besides when a man does it, it’s considered macho.”

      “Bull…” and then Brenda silently mouthed “Shit.” I’ve married a hypocrite and a chauvinist.”

      “Maybe” Peter replied. “But its too late for you to run now.” Wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into an embrace, Peter marvelled again that after two years of marriage, he found her just as magical as he had on the first day they met. His memory of that day retained a precise clarity. He had been interviewing an obviously uncomfortable doctor at San Francisco General Hospital in connection with an insurance fraud case. In the midst of that discussion, just as the doctor’s memory seemed to be improving, a young nurse had barged unceremoniously into the office. She had a patient’s chart grasped tightly in her hand, and appeared oblivious to anything she might be interrupting. To Brenda Zhang, the well-being of a patient trumped any and all other concerns.

      After her questions had been answered and she had swept out of the room with the same electricity with which she had entered, Peter found himself unable to concentrate. More accurately, he could not concentrate on the important investigation that had brought him there. The rising star in the county prosecutor’s office was consumed by the image of the exotically beautiful Chinese-American woman who had just left the room.

      The doctor was both mystified and relieved. The intense young prosecutor who had been grilling him intently moments before about billing practices now appeared interested only in obtaining an introduction to the nurse who had disrupted his interrogation. Clinging to the hope that cheerful cooperation with the authorities in any area might prove beneficial, he escorted Peter Stewart down the hall. There he provided the requested introduction. Thus, in the prosaic and unromantic corridor of a major urban hospital, Peter Stewart met Brenda Vivian Zhang. At that moment he was doomed.

      It took Peter two days to arrange a dinner date. At her request, he picked her up at the hospital at the end of her shift. She came out the door after changing from her nurse’s uniform into a tightly tailored green and white cocktail dress with her long black hair bushed out of her work-day ponytail. As he watched her sensuous walk, he knew instantly that his bachelor days were ending. If he had not feared that she would think he was crazy, he would have proposed that night. Instead, he waited almost two full months.

      He missed her long black hair. The short style she now wore had been adopted for personal convenience after she accepted the rotation to the intensive care unit. He had teasingly called her a Chinese elf, and then almost choked on his witticism when she announced that she was pregnant. She promised that she would let her tresses grow back out when she took maternity leave. That prospect pleased him even though he knew he would still find her beautiful if she were to shave her head.

      The numbers on the indicator board flashed sequentially as the elevator ascended toward the twenty seventh floor. Abruptly the light hearted humour on Brenda’s face was replaced by an unspoken suspicion.

      “Peter,” she pronounced every word with a slow and perfect clarity. “You did tell him that we were coming by tonight, didn’t you?”

      Peter Stewart’s expression was a portrait of disingenuous sincerity. “Yeah, well . . . sort of . . . just not in so many words.”

      Brenda sighed with a knowing exasperation. “What did you tell him in so many words?”

      “I told him I’d see him later.”

      Brenda again wearily shook her head. “Peter, we can’t force him to be our friend.”

      “We can try.” Peter Stewart’s face displayed a single minded determination. “Bren, he needs friends. He works too hard; he drives himself to the limit in every case he takes on. He won’t kiss ass or suck up to the big guys, so they dislike him, call him names behind his back, and don’t give him the recognition he deserves.” Stewart almost spit out the epithet. “Bastards.”

      Brenda tenderly caressed her husband’s face. “I thought we were trying to avoid bad language in front of our child.”

      Stewart smiled adoringly at his wife. “Didn’t that sound macho to you?” Before she could answer, the elevator door silently opened on the twenty seventh floor.

      In the apartment Mckenzie stood, arms folded staring at the door, awaiting his unexpected guests. Pete Stewart was a hard working prosecutor. He was even a nice guy, for a lawyer, and Brenda was a sweet caring young woman. Nevertheless, he was too old to be adopted and he had no desire to adopt someone else. Despite that, these two seemed determined to pull him into their lives. The chilly formality that he used to hold the rest of the world at arms length did not seem to deter them. The Stewarts had taken on the challenge of building a friendship with him regardless of his resistance. Maybe I am just going to have to be a little sterner with them, he thought. Let them know that I am not interested in any kind of social relationship.

      Mckenzie’s thoughts were interrupted by the firm knock on his door. Pulling open the door, he realized, not for the first time, that being deliberately unpleasant to the Stewarts was not something he could countenance. It would be like kicking a puppy. This attractive young couple, smiling so warmly at him, were becoming part of his life whether he sought it or not.

      Brenda stepped inside first and kissed his check. “Good evening Alex.”

      “Brenda., СКАЧАТЬ