Dead Politician Society

Chapter 42: Annabel

The Queen streetcar arrived, shiny red and slick with rain.

Annabel clicked off her BlackBerry and wondered why she bothered. She closed her umbrella—was there a graceful way to do this without water flying everywhere? She climbed the high step up into the streetcar. She would show up unannounced; she had no choice.

She found a seat near the back with as few people around her as possible. It was nearly nine p.m., and the car was half-empty, but it still felt overcrowded. She normally took a cab to Matthew’s place, or he drove her. But with her career in purgatory and her condo fees about to go up, she should save twenty bucks everywhere she could. Make that seventeen bucks saved—this skinny, grimy people-herder had cost three bucks for the privilege of boarding.

The man behind her coughed. It was loud, phleghmy, and actually more like a hork. Annabel turned to glare at him but he was oblivious to her scorn. She stood up and moved to the center of the streetcar where she could stand with her back to the window and observe anyone who tried to get too close.

By the time she stepped down onto Queen Street East in the Beaches, Annabel was drenched in sweat. She wouldn’t be surprised if people who commuted by public transit suffered earlier deaths on average, or least higher rates of anxiety. She checked her pits and was relieved that she couldn’t smell herself. It was one thing to show up uninvited at Mr. Commitmentphobe’s door. It was another to arrive with unfeminine odors.

At least the rain had stopped.

She pulled her phone from her pocket and tried Matthew’s number one more time. She could see his house—she was already halfway down Kenilworth.

One more chance, you asshole, she said in her head, in case he was picking up psychic messages, which she highly doubted, because that would require sensitivity to people other than himself. If you’re in there with someone, you can answer the phone and we can do this without things getting awkward.

Her last conversation with Utopia Girl had been toying with her mind all day. If this was one of Matthew’s students, he had to be told about it. He could dump Annabel for not playing by his rules, she could lose her exclusive book deal if Utopia Girl found out she’d spoken to him. But she would never be able to live with herself if Matthew was killed and she had done nothing to warn him.

No response. She stuck her phone back in her purse.

A shiver passed through the back of her neck. Was she being watched? Followed? She glanced behind her but didn’t see anyone in the half block between herself and Queen Street. She was probably just jumpy. She’d be at Matthew’s place soon. He might not be glad to see her, but he wouldn’t turn her away.

Would he?

If he did, she’d call a cab.

She straightened her posture like her Pilates instructor was always telling her to, and strode purposefully down the sleepy residential street until she came to his house.

She ran up the stairs and rang the doorbell before she could change her mind.

“Ethan!” She hadn’t counted on Matthew’s roommate answering the door.

“Annabel.” He seemed equally surprised. “Does Matthew know you’re coming?”

“No. But it’s important.”

“I’ll go…see if he’s…awake. One sec.” Ethan moved to close the door.

“Um…” Annabel didn’t want to admit that she was afraid she was being watched, that she didn’t want to be alone in the dark any longer than necessary.

“Oops.” Ethan opened the door and gestured for Annabel to enter. “Sorry. Don’t know what I was thinking. Of course, come in. But, uh, do you mind waiting in the living room?”

She’d do better than that. She’d leave her boots on and stay in the front hall.

Ethan ran upstairs and spoke with Matthew in a low voice. A few minutes later, both men came down together. Matthew wasn’t tucking in his shirt, which was a good sign. He rushed over and gave Annabel a hug.

“Come in. I’m sorry my boorish roommate has never heard of hospitality. It’s great to see you. Would you like a drink?”

“Yeah.” She relaxed into the warmth of his arms. “And then we need to talk. I think—I’m sorry for coming over unannounced. I’ve been trying to call, but—I’m worried that you’re in some kind of danger.”

“Danger?” He smiled like this was an amusing and faraway concept.

Jesus, that’s just what he would do if he was Utopia Girl. She could stop now. She could make up some lie. She could…

But her mouth was already speaking the words. “I’ve been receiving these emails.”