The Geographer's Library

The Geographer’ s Library
“Huh?”
“Nothing. You one of those Woody Allen–type ass chasers with brains?”
he chuckled.
I didn’t say anything.
“Come on, I’m only kidding. Don’t be like that. I’m sure she’s lovely. But
look, you need to be a little careful, okay? You might be dealing with some
tough customers. And you’re a college kid and a friend of Abe’s; I just want
to impress this on you. You don’t carry around any sort of weapon, right?”
“Is that a joke? I haven’t even hit anybody since I was twelve.”
“Not a joke at all. Look, just be careful, okay? I still don’t know. I mean,
there may not be any reason to worry; it may be nothing; everything I found
may just be circumstance and all that. But still: be aware of your surroundings,
like we always tell people. Keep your eyes open, and don’t go wandering
around unless you have to. How’s your lock?”
“Yale, double bolt, with a—what is it—Schlage door lock.”
“Okay, that’s good. Yale’s a good lock. Just because someone made it to
your front door doesn’t mean they can make it inside. You use that double
bolt, you understand me? And you remember that if someone’s sending you
a message, and they want to—how should we say?—deliver another one up
close and personal, they got experience here and you don’t. Don’t do anything
stupid.”
“Jesus Christ, Officer—”
“It’s Detective, but look, just call me Joe.”
“Jesus Christ, Joe. I was a little nervous before I called you, but I’m fucking
terrified now. What are you trying to do to me?”
Joe gave a short, slightly bitter laugh. “Not trying to do anything. You
probably got nothing to worry about. It’s the ones that don’t send notes that
tend to cause problems. Just be safe, keep your eyes open, and you ought to
be fine. Any other kind of trouble tonight, even a hint of a feeling of trouble,
you call me at home, you got it? It’s 555-7077. I’ll bring the cavalry. Figure
I’ll see you Monday, though, right? Shift starts at four, but you come in early
afternoon, I’ll be there. Stay healthy.”
He hung up. I poured myself three fingers of Beam Black, dropped in
two cubes of ice, and called Hannah.
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