“Who’s the fat woman who eats plums?”
This time his Adam’s apple went for good.
“Plums?” he repeated and backed away. I guess he thought I was crazy.
“Yeah. Who is she?”
He looked at the door of Apartment 244, blinked, turned scared old eyes on me.
“In there, mister?”
“Yeah.”
He shook his head.
“No one’s in there. That apartment’s to rent.”
I felt a sudden chill run up my spine. I shoved past him and sank .my thumb into the bell-push. I could hear the bell ringing, but nothing happened; nobody came to the door.