The Piranhas
“I said to her. “He’s taking his time.”
She looked at me. “He’s a very careful man. I’m sure he knows what he is doing.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But I’m getting nervous.” I moved to the front door and peered through the wide-angle tiny glass peephole. I could see down the hallway to the elevator door. There was nothing moving. I turned back to her. “Can you reach him in the garage?”
“No,” she answered. “It only works one way. When they call here.”
A moment later the tinny sound came through the house phone. The man’s voice crackled through the speaker. Alma replied quickly. He spoke again, a nervous urgency in his voice. Alma turned and looked at me. There was a puzzled expression on her face, then she spoke to him again. “Okay.”
She let go of the speaker button and the house phone went quiet. “I don’t understand it,” she said. “He called me Alma. He never called me by my first name before.”
“But that is your name,” I said.
“Yes,” she answered.
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