The Face Read Online Free PDF Page B

gym.
        “I know him to say hello in the hall,” Reynerd said, “and how’s the weather. That’s all.”
        If that was true, Ethan felt secure enough to say, “I’m his brother. Name’s Ricky Keesner.”
        That scam ought to work as long as Keesner was somewhere between twenty and fifty years old.
        “Our Uncle Harry’s on his deathbed in the ICU,” Ethan lied. “Not going to hold on much longer. Since yesterday morning, I been calling George at every number I’ve got for him. He doesn’t get back to me. Doesn’t answer the door now.”
        “I think he’s away,” said Reynerd.
        “Away? He didn’t say anything about it to me. You know where he might’ve gone?”
        Reynerd shook his head. “He was going out with a little suitcase the night before last, as I was coming in.”
        “He tell you when he’d be back?”
        “We just said how it looked like rain coming, and then he went out,” Reynerd replied.
        “Man, he’s so close to Uncle Harry-we both are-he’s going to be upset he didn’t get a chance to say good-bye. Maybe I could leave him a note, so he sees it first thing he gets back.”
        Reynerd just stared at Ethan. An artery began throbbing in his neck. His speed-cycled brain was racing, but although meth ensured frenetically fast thinking, it didn’t assist clear thinking.
        “The thing is,” Ethan said, “I don’t have any paper. Or a pen, for that matter.”
        “Oh. Sure, I got those,” said Reynerd.
        “I really hate to bother you-”
        “No bother,” Reynerd assured him, turning away from the open door, going off to find a notepad, a pen.
        Left at the threshold, Ethan chafed to get into the apartment. He [27] wanted a better look at Reynerd’s nest than he could obtain from the doorway.
        Just as Ethan decided to risk being rude and to enter without an invitation, Reynerd halted, turned, and said, “Come on in. Sit down.”
        Now that the invitation had been extended, Ethan could afford to inject a little authenticity into this charade by demurring. “Thanks, but I just came in from the rain-”
        “Can’t hurt this furniture,” Reynerd assured him.
        Leaving the door open behind himself, Ethan went inside.
        The living room and dining area comprised one large space. The kitchen was open to this front room, but separated from it by a bar with two stools.
        Reynerd proceeded into the kitchen, to a counter under a wall phone, while Ethan perched on the edge of an armchair in the living room.
        The apartment was sparsely furnished. One sofa, one armchair, a coffee table, and a television set. The dining area contained a small table and two chairs.
        On the television, the MGM lion roared. The sound was low, the roar soft.
        On the walls were several framed photographs: large sixteen-by-twenty-inch, black-and-white art prints. Birds were the subject of every photo.
        Reynerd returned with a notepad and a pencil. “This do?”
        “Perfect,” Ethan said, accepting the items.
        Reynerd had a dispenser of Scotch tape, as well. “To fix the note on George’s door.” He put the tape on the coffee table.
        “Thanks,” Ethan said. “I like the photographs.”
        “Birds are all about being free,” Reynerd said.
        “I guess they are, aren’t they? The freedom of flight. You take the photos?”
        “No. I just collect.”
        In one of the prints, a flock of pigeons erupted in a swirl of feathered [28] frenzy from a cobblestone plaza in front of a backdrop of old European buildings. In another, geese flew in formation across a somber sky.
        Indicating the black-and-white movie on the TV, Reynerd said, “I was just getting some snacks for the show. You mind…?”
        “Huh? Oh, sure, I’m sorry, forget about me. I’ll jot this down and be gone.”
        In one of the pictures, the birds had flown directly at the