With the end of the breakfasts, Alfred’s information flow dried up. That was when the horrible feeling that he was losing Penny began. This Gary person was winning her. Alfred’s warnings to Penny hadn’t changed anything. It was time for action. He could go to the corner of Pacific Coast Highway and call her number from the phone booth, to see if she were there. He had done that before. This time, he already knew the answer.
He took his flashlight and laboriously got out of his 1959 Ford Fairlane, stiff from sitting so long. He closed the door gently. He didn’t want to wake up any of the apartment dwellers along the street. He walked to the alley between Penny’s building and the one next to it.
Penny’s window faced the blank stucco wall of the other building. A few windows dotted the wall of Penny’s building, like rectangular eyes, but they were all dark. The only way he was likely to be seen was if somebody came walking along the street and glanced between the buildings. Somebody walking at midnight in Los Angeles was not a scenario he was worried about.
Penny’s window was above eye level. Alfred shone his flashlight into the flowerbed that had been planted alongside the building until he spotted what he was looking for, hidden behind a large bush. It was a wooden palette, the kind on which bags of cement, fertilizer, or similar items were typically stacked.
Alfred had stashed the palette there for emergencies like this one. He was glad that the building owner hadn’t found and removed it. He put the flashlight in his pocket and carefully lifted the palette out of its hiding place. He carried it to a spot directly beneath Penny’s window and leaned it against the wall.
The tricky part was climbing it and balancing on the top without falling into the thorns of a rosebush. He wasn’t the most agile person in the world, but if he were very careful, he could do it. With the flashlight in his pocket he was able to lift one foot high enough to place it on top of the palette. Then he had to push hard off the ground with his other foot and simultaneously use the strength of his upper leg to lift his body until he could grasp the sill of Penny’s window.
He did this now, teetering precariously on the top edge of the palette for a few seconds until he had both feet planted firmly on it. His body was pressed against the stucco. When he had stabilized himself, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the flashlight. He shone it through the window. The first thing he saw was Penny’s bed. Something about it looked strange. It was covered with a bedspread, but the spread was flat. There was no pillow underneath it. A minor thing, perhaps, but… Alfred tensed.
The room looked different than it had the first time he looked through her window from the top of the palette. He had been watching that window from his car on and off for months. He knew it was a bedroom window because occasionally she would come to the window in a nightgown and look out. Alfred lived for those moments. Apparently she thought no one could see in because she never closed the drapes.
One night he hadn’t seen her car and thought she was out. He had an impulse to look into her room at close range. That was when he had found the palette set out on the street with the trash from one of the buildings. He had carried it to the window, climbed onto it, and was investigating the room with his flashlight when he heard a noise inside. He just had time to douse the flashlight when the bedroom light came on and Penny walked into the room-naked.
In spite of his fear of being discovered, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. The first thing he saw was her flat stomach and her beautiful innie bellybutton. The rest of her was just as spectacular. Then he ducked his head below the level of the window. He didn’t dare jump to the ground because the window was open, and she might hear him.
He balanced there for an eternity of seconds, his bent legs starting to shake from holding his body in a cramped position. Finally, not hearing any sounds from her room and afraid he would collapse, he took a chance and dropped to the ground. He froze there, listening. Silence surrounded him, except for the distant hum of automobiles, ubiquitous in Los Angeles. He hid the palette, being careful not to make any noise, and returned to his car.
Now, Alfred shone the flashlight around the room. It flashed across the top of the dresser, which was bare. In a panic, he moved the beam to the open closet door. The closet was empty. Penny’s clothes were gone. Penny was gone.
CHAPTER 2
Alfred came back to Penny’s apartment building about nine o’clock on Thursday morning. Not too early to arouse suspicion. His instinct that had told him something was about to happen had been right. It was a good thing he had quit his job, so that he could devote full time to this. He had saved some money. He never spent a dime, except for gas, rent, and food. His instinct had failed him in one respect. He hadn’t guessed that the bird would fly the coop.
He would prove to Penny that he was up to the challenge. He would prove that he was worthy of her. Alfred knocked on the door of the apartment manager. The door was opened by a small man with a small head, topped by thinning gray hair. He squinted up at Alfred, inquiringly, through his wire-rim glasses, with his head cocked. Alfred had been very careful about his prowling and was sure the man had never seen him before.
“Hi.” Alfred remembered what he had rehearsed. “I’m a cousin of Penny Singleton. I just arrived here from Connecticut and wanted to say hello to her. This is the only address I have for her. Can you give me her forwarding address?”
The man looked at Alfred, his eyes darting from Alfred’s baseball cap to his dark glasses to his potbelly. The small head moved too, with the jerky motions reminiscent of a bird. He said, in a high-pitched voice, “Hasn’t she given you her forwarding address?”
“I’ve been on the road.” Alfred forced a chuckle. “It would have been hard for her to get hold of me. And she doesn’t know my address in Los Angeles because, as I said, I just arrived here.”
“You say you’re from Connecticut? You could contact Penny’s folks and find it that way.”
Alfred was getting irritated, but he tried to hide it. “I’d like to get in touch with Penny right away. I don’t have a lot of money to waste on long distance phone calls.”
“Have you rented a place yet?”
“Yes, I have.” The man was trying to rent him Penny’s apartment. What could he do to convince this sparrow to give him Penny’s address? “The thing is, my mother’s sick. She and Penny’s mother are sisters, but they don’t talk to each other. Some kind of long-standing feud. I felt that Penny would want to know about her aunt.”
“Sorry. I can’t help you.”
He closed the door. Right in Alfred’s face.
Gil couldn’t help the man with the beard who claimed to be Penny’s cousin, because Penny hadn’t told him where she was going. Even if she had, he might not have passed on the information. Something was fishy about the guy. Starting with the fact that Penny had just vacated the apartment yesterday afternoon. How did he know that Penny had moved out? Even if he’d knocked on her door, the fact of her not being there would certainly not be evidence of that.
Gil was actually somewhat miffed that Penny hadn’t told him where she was going. Presumably off with her boyfriend, but Gil didn’t know where he lived. He suspected she had left a forwarding address with the post office, but she could have left one with him, too. After all, he had been friendly to her. He liked renting to good-looking girls. He tried to be nice to them and respond to their requests about maintenance quickly. Pretty girls were used to being catered to. He was sure Penny had already forgotten him.