almost fell through the floor when he paused on the landing and looked at her over his shoulder. Surely he was too far away to have heard her soft words. God, she hoped so!
Turning around, she hurriedly knocked on the door to the Lincolns’ apartment.
A second later a young black woman, her long wavy hair gathered in a rubber band, yanked the door open and then yanked Brett inside. “I need some help in here!” the woman exclaimed. “I can’t get the water faucet in the bathtub to turn off. We’re talking Noah and his ark here if we don’t get this damn thing turned off!”
Moving quickly, Brett dumped her goodies by the front door and followed the woman into the bathroom.
“My husband knows how to work that damn thing but he’s working a double shift at the hospital today—he’s a nurse—and with the hot water finally on again, I couldn’t wait ‘til he got home to take a bath.”
As Brett managed to coax the stubborn fixture into the Off position, the woman made a high-five sign. “You saved the day, girl! Thanks! Now who the hell are you again?”
“I’m Brett,” she replied with a grin. “The new building supervisor. I’ve just been hired to fix things around here, like this faucet. Next time it gets stuck, just open the drain to let the water out.”
“I didn’t think of that. I’m Keisha Lincoln and, even though you don’t look nothing like Denzel Washington, you’re the answer to my prayers. I been telling the new owner this place needed fixing up big-time.”
“Sorry I don’t look like Denzel.”
“It’s okay. Tyrone, that’s my husband, will feel better if Denzel stays in Hollywood. Lord, I could use some caffeine after that scare. How ‘bout you? Want some cafE au lait? I’ve got an aunt down in New Orleans who sends the real stuff to me, so I can make it up right. Ah, I see you’ve already hit the other neighbors,” Keisha noted with a glance at the bottle of ouzo and containers of sauerkraut and salsa Brett had set by the front door.
“Everyone’s been so nice,” Brett said.
“They haven’t been all that welcoming to us, but then Tyrone and I have only lived here for a year and a half. The other tenants have been here decades. Except for the new owner. He only moved in a few weeks ago and now he’s stuck with this old dump.”
“I think it’s a beautiful building.”
“That’s ‘cause you don’t live here.”
“I do now. I’ll be moving into the basement apartment this afternoon.”
“You move fast.” Keisha nodded .approvingly. “I can relate to that. I moved fast when I met my Tyrone. And I know what it’s like being a woman workin’ on a man’s turf. I’m a security guard down at the main branch of the C.P.L.”
“C.P.L.?”
“Chicago Public Library. Anyway, it’ll be nice having someone else my age in the building. How about that caffeine?”
“Sounds good. But what about your hot water for your bath?”
“The way that water was steaming, it’ll take ten minutes before I can get in there. So tell me, what do you think of your new boss? Is he prime or what?”
The phone was ringing as Michael reentered his apartment. He picked it up on the third ring. “Hello?” All he heard was loud static. “Hello?” he repeated, louder this time.
“…it’s…your father…calling.”
“Where are you? Are you okay?”
“We’re fine. I’m at a pay phone. They aren’t too good in Bali…” More static filled the line. “Your mother made me call…wanted to make sure everyone there was fine.”
“We’re fine. I spoke to Gaylynn yesterday.” Michael’s younger sister was a teacher in Chicago.
“Good, good.”
Sensing that his father was about to say goodbye, Michael said, “Wait, Dad. I need to know something. What’s the deal with this family-curse stuff?”
Michael’s only answer was static…punctuated by his father’s voice saying, “What?”
“I asked if you knew anything about a family curse,” Michael repeated.
“Purse?” his father said, clearly unable to hear him very well. “No, your mother hasn’t lost her purse yet, thank heavens. I’m keeping a close eye on her.”
“Not purse,” Michael practically shouted into the phone line. “Curse! I got a box from Hungary today.”
“Hungry as a fox, are you? Then you should eat. You know your mother worries about you.”
“Box!” Michael yelled. “I got a box! A Rom box.”
But his father was no longer listening to him. “Oh-oh, I have to go. Your mother is eyeing a statue the size of the Sears Tower. I already told her we’ve bought too many souvenirs. I’ll call again in a few days.”
Frustrated, Michael hung up the phone, muttering a few choice Rom curses of his own under his breath. His eyes were drawn to the mysterious box, which was still perched on top of his rack stereo system just as Brett had left it when she’d reached out to help him. While Michael might have closer ties to his Rom background than his younger sister or brother, he still wasn’t one to give in to superstitions.
It was just a box. Nothing more than that. Retrieving it, Michael studied the intricate engraving on the lid. There were four crescent moons in the left corner, hovering over a scene that included palm trees and a sailing ship. On the right side, a streaking sun was setting over a line of mountains. In the center of the sun was some kind of red stone.
Holding the box up and aiming a nearby high-intensity light at it in order to see better, he saw that the sides were also engraved, with what looked for all the world like. a wizard? Intrigued, he slowly reopened the lid. The strange feeling he’d experienced earlier, upon first opening it when Brett had been there, was now gone—confirming his notion that his reaction was due to lack of food and sleep rather than an old family curse.
The box was not empty as he’d supposed. Inside was the most striking engraved silver key he’d ever seen. It was a skeleton-type key, which looked and felt very old. Turning it over in his fingers, Michael felt a strange affinity with the mysterious key.
He’d always loved a good mystery. That’s why he made such a good corporate investigator. Because he liked solving mysterious situations with logical explanations. His fascination with the box was easy to explain. His sudden fascination with Brett Munro was not.
The next time Michael saw Brett was late that afternoon and she was wrestling with what looked like a street gang of young punks for
