Amuse Bouche Read Online Free PDF

throughout the apartment to see if I could recall coming across anything locked I couldn't get into. There was nothing, no safety box or diary or even a stray padlock.
    What was this key for? Tom had kept it in an easily accessible spot telling me he probably used it on a regular basis or at least wanted to ensure quick access to it.
    Leaving the apartment, I ran down the stairs to the lobby doors. Again the key was obviously too small, I glanced around for other opportunities for a tenant to use a key. I spied a wall of mailboxes next to the elevator. That had to be it! As luck would have it, the mailboxes yielded 42
    Anthony Bidu]ka
    yet another nonsensical numbering system that did not appear to have any apparent relationship to the intercom or apartment numbers. This was probably a good security measure but a pain in the ass for someone in my profession. I had no choice but to try them all. Again I was thankful for the lack of security cameras.
    Minutes later 1 remained stymied. The key was about the right size for the mailboxes, but it had failed to unlock one. I returned to the apartment and took another quick tour looking for someplace to stick the mysterious key. Nothing.
    Drat. 1 knew if I didn't find out what this key was used for, I'd wake up in the middle of the night thinking about it.
    I glanced at my watch. Almost seven. I was hungry, I knew Barbra would be too and I still had to pack. I pocketed the key and ran around the apartment switching off the lights. For the second time that night I was about to extinguish the hallway light and pull open the door to leave when suddenly I froze in my tracks. This time it wasn't a key that stopped me. It was a knock at the door.
    Shit!
    I could taste my heart in my throat and it didn't taste good. I had been way too close to opening that door and stepping into the arms of someone who'd be expecting to see Tom Amuse Bouche
    Osborn. Not good. No, worse than that. Stupid and careless came to mind. And it got better.
    Could they see the hallway light under the door? Suppose whoever it was out in the hallway had seen me flicking lights on and off like a disco strobe? I glanced down but couldn't tell how wide the space was. How far was I from being the subject of a 9-1-1 call?
    Another rap on the door.
    I stood there trying not to breathe as if the sound of it might pass through the door.
    Again. This time the knock was accompanied by a man's plaintive voice, "Tom? Tom? Are you in there? We should talk about this!"
    As if walking on hot coals I approached the door. I leaned in close until my right eye met the peephole. He was young and blond with dark brows gathered together in a frown.
    I heard another voice. A woman.
    Goddamnit, how many of them are there out there, I wondered. I saw the man's head turn to his left.
    "Excuse me?" he said.
    "I sez yer wasting yer time," the woman's voice said. Or sez. "He's not home. So stop all that knockin' and wailin.' Are yeh hungry? I've got some cutlets over here."
    The man looked confused. Can't imagine why. Cutlets? He stepped out of the peephole's 44
    Anthony Bidulka
    visual range but I could still hear his voice. "Are you talking about Tom Osborn? Do you know him?"
    "Of course I know 'im. We're's neighbours, aren't we?"
    "I guess. Not home, huh?"
    "Nah, But he's never around much."
    "Oh. So you haven't seen him around in the last couple of days?"
    "Nah. Hasn't been home for days. I'da seen or heard him if he had. Yer not hungry? Yer a skinny boy."
    1 hoped the young man at least smiled or shook his head. If not, his sudden departure was rather rude. Eventually I heard a door close which I hoped meant cutlet-lady had gone back into her apartment. Even so, I waited another full five minutes before concluding it was safe to move on. I switched off the remaining light and left Tom Osborn's apartment, making sure the door was locked behind me.
    My home is my castle, a place where I re-ener-gize and take refuge from the world. The house is