“Of course. It’s the same as a handyman. And it’s affecting the other residents. But if he refuses, we have to get a letter from the building’s attorney.”
“Has anyone tried to talk to him?”
“We all have,” Enid said. “He’s impossible.”
“What about the wife? Maybe someone should talk to his wife.”
“I’ll try again,” Enid said.
On the other side of the wall, Sam Gooch lay on his bed, pretending to read his mother’s New Yorker. He’d left his door open so he could overhear the conversation. He looked up at the ceiling, feeling extremely pleased with himself. True, his actions had caused a great deal of trouble for everyone in the building, and he was scared to death of being found out, but it was worth it to get even with Paul. Sam guessed Paul would not be harassing anyone anymore, especially his mother. He would never say anything to Paul, but when they passed in the lobby, he would give Paul a certain look, and Paul would know Sam had been responsible. Hopefully, he’d never be able to prove it.
A few minutes later, Enid knocked on the Rices’ door. Maria, the housekeeper, opened it a crack and said through the tiny slit, “No visitors.”
Enid stuck her fingers in the crack. “Don’t be silly. I need to see Mrs. Rice.”
“Enid?” Annalisa called out. She stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind her. “This is not our fault.”
“Of course it isn’t,” Enid said.
“It’s because everyone hates Paul.”
“A co-op is like a private club,” Enid said. “Especially in a building like One Fifth. You may not necessarily like all the other members, but you do have to get along with them. Otherwise, it tears the whole building apart. Word gets out that it’s not such a great building, and then everyone’s real estate goes down. And no one likes that, my dear.”
Annalisa looked down at her hands.
“There is an unspoken code of behavior. For instance, residents must strive to avoid unpleasant encounters. We can’t have neighbors insulting each other. Yes, One Fifth is a fancy apartment building. But it’s also people’s homes. It’s their sanctuary. And without the security of that sanctuary, people become angry. I’m afraid for you and Paul. Afraid of what will happen if you don’t allow the repairman from Time Warner into your apartment.”
“He’s already here,” Annalisa said.
“Ah,” Enid replied, taken aback.
“He’s by the service entrance. Perhaps you’d like to talk to him.”
“Yes, I would,” Enid said.
She followed Annalisa through the door that led to the stairwell. The repairman held several cables in his hand. “They’ve been cut,” he said grimly.
“Hey, Roberto,” Philip Oakland said, coming into One Fifth with his suitcase. “How’s it going?”
“Been crazy around here,” Roberto said, and laughed. “You missed a lot.”
“Really?” Philip said. “Like what?”
“Big scandal. With the billionaire. Paul Rice. But your aunt took care of it.”
“Ah, yes,” Philip said, waiting for the elevator. “She always does.”
“And then it turned out that someone cut the cables outside the billionaire’s apartment. No one knows who did it. Then the billionaire called the police. Big scene between Mindy Gooch and Paul Rice. Those two really hate each other. So Paul Rice is making the co-op pay for cameras in the stairwells. And there was nothing Mrs. Gooch could do about it. Man, that lady was mad. And Mrs. Rice won’t talk to anyone. The housekeeper calls ahead when she’s coming down, and we have to motion to the driver to bring the car around. No one’s mad at them, though, because someone did cut their wires, and Paul Rice gave the doormen a thousand bucks each to protect his wife. But now everyone who comes into the building, even the dry cleaner, has to register at the front desk and show ID. And if they don’t have ID, the residents have to come down and get them. It’s like a prison in here. Thing is, some people think it was your girlfriend’s friend that did it.”
“What?” Philip said. He jabbed the button for the elevator.
“That won’t make it come any faster.” Roberto laughed again.
Philip got into the elevator and punched the button for the thirteenth floor three times. What the hell was going on?
In Los Angeles, he’d gone right to work on the revisions for Bridesmaids Revisited. For the first couple of days, he’d put Lola out of his mind. She’d called him ten times, but he hadn’t returned the calls. On his third evening in L.A., he’d phoned her back, thinking she would still be at her mother’s house. She wasn’t. She was in New York in his apartment. “Lola, we have to discuss this,” he said.
“But I’ve already moved in. I thought that was the plan. I unpacked all my stuff. I only took a small corner of the closet in the bedroom, and I put some o