The Basement Read Online Free PDF Page B

the building is too cheap for that, but there's a security system and visitors aren't supposed to be able to get in unless they're admitted.
    I put the chain on the door. “Yeah? Who is it?” I shout.
    “Police,” says a voice.
    “Yeah? I've already given.”
    “Given?”
    “Yeah. At the office. Thanks anyway.”
    I go and sit down in front of the coffee table and continue typing. The doorbell rings again.
    And again. I get up and go back to the door. “Who is it?”
    “Are you Marvin Waller?”
    “Who wants to know?”
    “NYPD.”
    “NYPD?” I'm starting to enjoy this. Whoever this cop is, he's obviously none too bright.
    “New York Police Department. Can you open the door?”
    “Sure I can,” I say, and go back to my chair. This time he knocks on the door, hard.
    “What is it?” I shout.
    “I'm getting fed up with talking through this door,” he says.
    I get up again. “So go away.”
    “You said you'd open the door, Mr Waller.”
    “No I didn't.”
    “Yes you did.”
    “Oh no I didn't.” Yeah, this is fun all right. I can spin this out for hours.
    “Mr Waller, can you please open the door?”
    “Yes I can.” I fold my arms and lean against the wall, grinning to myself. I wonder how long it'll take him to get the grammar right. I hear voices. Muffled whispering.
    “Mr Waller. Will you open the door?”
    “Sure - now that you've asked properly.” I unlock the door and open it. I'm surprised. The guy's black, and he didn't sound it. He's well over six feet tall, big shoulders and a squarish face.
    It'd be a severe face if it wasn't for the tortoise-shell spectacles that give him the look of a schoolteacher. Behind him is a woman, dark-haired and pale-skinned with the bluest eyes I've ever seen. I give them the boyish smile. “Yes?” I say.
    The guy looks me up and down. He doesn't seem impressed. “You're Mr Waller? Marvin Waller?”
    “I am?”
    “What?”
    “What do you mean, what?”
    He frowns. He's confused. The woman steps to the side. She's smiling. Her eyes really are amazingly blue. “Are you or are you not Marvin Waller?” she says. There's a hint of Irish in her voice.
    “I am.”
    “Can we come in?”
    “Not without a warrant, no.”
    The guy opens his wallet and shows me his shield. “We're detectives,” he says.
    “I'm impressed.”
    “I'm Detective Sergeant Turner. This is Detective Marcinko.”
    Marcinko? That ditches the Irish theory, I suppose. “Pleased to meet you, but I've got work to do.” I go to close the door but the guy puts his foot in the gap.
    “We'd like a word,” he says.
    “Trespass,” I say.
    “Trespass?”
    “Yeah. It's a word. It means being where you're not invited.”
    “I know what trespass means.”
    “Okay, what about mephitic?”
    “Mephitic?” he repeats, confused.
    “Yeah, do you know what mephitic is?”
    The guy looks at the woman. Then he looks back at me. “Are you fucking with me, Waller?”
    “Not without a condom, no. Now would you please take your foot away?”
    The woman puts a hand on Turner's shoulder and he steps to the side. The woman smiles at me like she wants to take me to bed and lick me all over. “Mr Waller, you'd really be doing us a favour if you'd let us in.” I bet the smile has the bad guys swooning at her feet. She really is pretty. Not drop-dead gorgeous, but the sort of girl you'd take home to meet your mother. If you had a mother. Her hair is as black as night and there's a glossy sheen as if she's just washed it. I bet it smells like apples.
    “I'd rather not.”
    “We're the police,” says Turner.
    “Do you have a warrant?”
    “Why would we need a warrant?” he says.
    I smile and tell him. “The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and