It takes a few seconds for my confusion to morph into unease, for me to realize that something’s wrong. Since there’s no way a blast of arctic air mysteriously traveled south and blew into the bedroom while I was gone, someone must have been in here, turned on the AC for more than a few minutes, and shut it off before I returned. This seems batshit insane, but what other explanation could there be?
I back out of the room and scramble downstairs. I check the back door to see if it might have been jimmied when I was out this morning, but both the lock and door are intact. I stand in the middle of the room, arms crossed tightly, trying to decide what to do.
Calling the police won’t help. I mean, what would I say—that my bedroom is now twenty degrees cooler than the rest of the house and I need the cops to deduce why? And is that what I want at this moment in time, when it’s essential for them to think of me as a rational person?
No, I need to get hold of Clarissa. She might even have an explanation, though I can’t imagine what it could be.
To my chagrin, my call goes straight to voicemail. I leave her a message saying there’s a problem at the house and I’m hoping to speak to her as soon as possible.
Thankfully, she calls back a few minutes later. “So sorry you’re having trouble,” she says, her voice perfectly calm. “How can I help?”
“Something weird happened in the bedroom today,” I say and describe what I discovered when I arrived home.
“Hmm, it sounds like the room just managed to stay cool from last night.”
“But I didn’t run the AC while I was sleeping,” I tell her, “and even if I had, the room wouldn’t still be this cold. Is it possible for you to drop by so I can show you what I mean?”
I think I hear a small sigh, though perhaps I’m projecting.
“All right,” she says. “But I’m twenty minutes away.”
“Not a problem. And thank you, Clarissa, I really appreciate it.”
I’ve no sooner tapped the off button when the phone rings in my hand. Sam. Oddly, just seeing his name quells some of my agitation.
“We need to pick a place to meet tonight,” he says after a brusque greeting.
“Um, there’s a café on the main street in town. And a small restaurant a few doors down,” I add, thinking of the bistro where I had a glass of wine the night I arrived.
“That sounds too public. This area is rife with blabbermouths.”
Is he afraid of people gossiping that they’ve seen him with Jamie’s ex? Or does he have some new information that he fears will be overheard?
“Do you want to come here, to my Airbnb?”
“Yeah, that’s probably better.”
“I need to warn you, though—I’m actually in the New Burford house that Jamie was renting,” I say, realizing this fact has to come out sooner or later. “I had no idea when I booked it that he’d been staying here.”
“On Ash Street?”
“Yes.” There’s a long pause, as he seems to process this piece of information. “All right,” he says finally. “I’ll be there. Seven thirty as planned.”
The call ends without a goodbye, which I’m starting to get used to. Clearly he’s not wild about having to spend time with me.
While waiting for Clarissa, I make half a turkey sandwich and eat it absentmindedly as I inspect all the windows on the lower level. There’s no sign that any of them were tampered with. So if someone did get into the house, how did they manage it?
Clarissa arrives exactly when promised. Her hair has been shaped into a large bouffant and appears to be defying the humidity thanks to several layers of extra-hold hair spray.
“Why don’t we go right up,” I say and lead the way to the bedroom, in a reverse of our roles from the other day.
“Itisa little cool in here,” she says once she’s stepped into the room. “But I wouldn’t call it frigid.”
“The room’s warmed up since I called you,” I say, realizing that in order to make my point, I should have closed the door before scurrying downstairs. “But still, it’s over eighty outside and the room should be about the same temperature, or even higher since it’s on the second floor.”
Her gaze shoots over toward the window and little R2-D2.
“I actually haven’t been using that since I’ve been here,” I say. “It’s too noisy for me. Is there another reason the room could get so chilly?”
