It’s a long shot, but then again, it’s not like I’ve got anything better to do today.

I find Gertie’s home number in my cell phone. When I call her, the phone rings several times, and I start to get worried maybe Monica finished her off to eliminate any loose ends.

Wow, maybe I really am getting paranoid.

“Hello?” Gertie’s voice shouts into the phone. When Gertie is on her cell phone, she seems unable to modulate the volume of her voice. It was something that used to drive me crazy about her, but now I miss it desperately. I’d take Gertie’s shouting over Monica’s clipped efficiency any day. “Who is this?”

“Hi, Gertie. It’s Abby.”

“WHO?”

That’s another thing. Gertie can’t seem to hear anything coming out of the phone. Which could explain why she shouts. “ABBY ADLER! FROM WORK! ABBY!”

There’s a long pause. “Oh! Abby! It’s so good to hear from you, dear!”

“Listen, Gertie,” I say, “I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?”

“WHAT?”

I grit my teeth. “Can we meet somewhere Gertie? I’ll come to any restaurant you like.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet, but I just ate lunch, dear!”

“Gertie,” I say patiently. “I just need to talk to you. Coffee, maybe?”

“Oh! Well, that would be lovely!”

I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s a long shot, but maybe Gertie remembers seeing Monica in the stairwell that day. I don’t know if anyone at work will believe it, but maybe Sam will. I’m desperate to get him on my side. I’m not just being paranoid about Monica. I’m not.

_____

Gertie selects a small coffee shop just down the block from her apartment. I arrive before she does and order myself a black coffee, although what I really want is a stiff shot of whiskey. Probably better not to get drunk in the middle of the afternoon though. Also, I suspect this coffee shop doesn’t stock whiskey. They probably don’t even have a liquor license.

I settle down at a small round table between a guy with a goatee typing furiously on his laptop, and an older woman who’s staring wistfully out the window. I take a long sip of my black coffee, shuddering at the bitter taste.

Gertie arrives at the coffee shop a few minutes later, leaning heavily on her four-pronged cane. She is limping so badly, it makes me want to burst into tears. Prior to her spill on the stairs, Gertie was always bustling around the office, a little ball of energy. Her injury clearly took a lot out of her. I wonder if she’ll ever be the same again.