Twelve Rooms with a View. Theresa Rebeck
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stared at her, aghast at her nerve. She just looked at him. “My mother’s wedding ring,” he said, finally, like the righteousness of the situation would mean something to her.
Lucy shrugged. “We have no way of ascertaining that.”
“Except that she saw it.” Drinan turned his cold stare on me, like I was the one who was fucking with him.
“I never said it wasn’t. I didn’t—ah—” I started.
Lucy raised her hand, fearless, and cut me off. “Tina, your actions are completely blameless in this matter,” she informed everyone.
“How do you figure that one?” asked Drinan. “We got there, she’d already completely cased the joint.”
“I was looking for my mom’s perfume,” I explained again.
“You went through my father’s underwear drawer,” he sneered. “You managed to find his wallet, which was conveniently empty by the time we got there.
“I didn’t—”
“It doesn’t matter what you were doing, Tina. The point is, you did not remove anything from the premises, nor are you—or I, or Alison—doing anything at all except insisting that we hold to the status quo until our lawyers, and your lawyers, have a chance to work through the documents and finalize the legal status of the estate. That’s all we’re trying to do. Protect everyone’s rights.”
“Look, I don’t know what any of this is about?” said the locksmith. “But somebody’s got to make a decision about what we’re doing with these locks. There’s a kill fee. You call to have your locks changed and then you change your mind, that’s a fifteen-dollar charge.”
“Not a problem,” Lucy said, reaching into her purse.
“I don’t agree to that,” Drinan snapped. He put his hand out, stopping the locksmith from even thinking about heading for the elevator bank. “I want the locks changed and I have every right to change the locks.”
“You legally have no right to change the locks,” Lucy said. Man she was so cool headed, through all of this, there was no way the locksmith was not going to do what she told him to. But he did feel bad about it.
“Listen, man, I’ll wait downstairs and let my boss know what’s going on. If the situation changes I can come back up and do the job. But I can’t get involved in something that might, you know. Be illegal.”
“This is my apartment. I grew up here, this is my apartment. Drinan’s temper was fraying again.
“Unfortunately we have a whole stack of legal documents which indicate that there is a very real chance that, in fact, it is not your apartment,” Lucy said, not quite so nicely anymore. “And if you insist on pursuing this course of action I will in fact be forced to call the police.”
“Go ahead. My brother is a detective with the NYPD, and you want to know something? They take care of their own.”
“Listen, buddy.” The locksmith was really desperate to get out of here by now. So was I. Bringing up the cops made everything just that little bit more icky.
“Wonderful. Your brother works in law enforcement, and I work in publicity. He can bring in his friends, and I can bring in mine. I know several writers for several highly prominent newspapers who would be only too happy to write about the NYPD superseding the law and forcing people from their homes.”
“This isn’t your home,” said Drinan, clearly astonished, finally, at her nerve.
“It is Tina’s home,” she told him, in no uncertain terms. “Our mother died here, and every legal document I have studied so far tells me that this apartment is now our apartment, and she had no place to live, and so for now she’s living here, and it is her legal right to do so.”
“I don’t even know you people,” Doug observed, like that was going to matter.
“I suspect we will have plenty of time to get acquainted, Lucy said, kind of mean. She looked at the locksmith, like she couldn’t even believe he was still standing there. “If you want to call your boss, now would be the time. I think we both know what he’s going to tell you.”
“Yeah, I don’t have to call him; I’m not getting involved in this,” he said. “But I do need that kill fee.”
She reached into her purse, lifted out a neatly folded bill and handed it over to him. The whole move took three seconds. “Keep the change,” she announced.
“Thanks,” he nodded, and he ambled back to the exit sign, pushed through that crummy brown door and slipped down into the stairwell. I didn’t blame him. I wouldn’t want to hang around waiting for an elevator, under those circumstances.
Drinan didn’t want to wait either. He picked up his little pile of legal documents and followed the locksmith.
“Perhaps you’d like my card,” Lucy cooed, holding one out to his back.
“When I need to talk to you I’m not going to have any trouble finding you,” he said, as the door to the stairwell slammed shut behind him.
“What a charming character,” Lucy said, putting the card away. “I thought you said he was good looking.”
“The other one, the one who’s a cop,” I told her.
“What does this one do?” she asked. “Run a charm school? Let me have the keys.”
I handed them to her. “I don’t know what this one does. Last night he didn’t say much,” I told her. “They were both drunk.”
“You should write down everything that happened last night. Have you done that yet?” she asked me.
“No, of course not. Why would I write it down?” I said.
“Well, we’re going to need a paper trail on everything, Tina. This isn’t a joke. I want it established that we are keeping records. Things are going to happen really quickly, and obviously the Drinan brothers have no compunction about playing hardball. We need to be prepared, as much as we can, for whatever they throw at us. What the hell is this?” We had stepped into the front room, which was filled with light from top to bottom. In spite of that hideous wall-to-wall shag rug, and all the crazy trouble with Doug Drinan, that room was really gorgeous so I got distracted for a minute just staring at it, and didn’t know what she was talking about, again. “Tina, hellloooo,” she said, waving her hand in front of my face and snapping her fingers.
“What?” I said.
“What,” she asked, impatient, “is this?” And with her toe she nudged a small wooden tool kit, which had been placed neatly against the wall, next to the doorway which led to the mossery.
“Oh, that’s Len’s,” I said.
“Len,” she repeated, looking at me like I had of course once again slept with someone I shouldn’t have.
“He was a friend of Bill’s, and Mom’s. That’s his moss in the kitchen. They let him grow it there. He’s some kind of botanist kind of person. He lives in the building,” I explained. “He was here when the phone got cut off, and he, you know, he said I should go get a cell phone for now.” Lucy flipped the light switch. Nothing happened.
“Yes, I see.” She sighed. “And what did you do, once you bought the cell phone? Did you call me at work, as I asked you to, and say, Lucy, the phone has been cut off and they’re probably going to try to cut the electricity as well, and maybe change the locks, could you come over and help me handle this? Did you do that?”
“No, I didn’t do that,” I started.
“No, you didn’t,” she said, continuing to flip the useless light switch for effect. “You went shopping.”
“Why would I assume this guy was going to do all that stuff you said? We don’t even know