55
J EFF BANION, THE PARK AVENUE DOORMAN, was on duty when a taxi pulled up to his awning. He hurried to get the door, but as it opened, he saw that the cab’s occupant, who was paying the fare, was not likely destined for Jeff’s building. He stepped back to the front door and let the man deal alone with closing the cab’s door.
Then, to Jeff’s surprise, the young man came toward him. He was short, his hair was cut so closely as to make him nearly bald, and he was roughly dressed in baggy clothes and heavy boots. He was carrying a nylon duffel. “Can I help you, sir?” Jeff asked, not moving away from the door.
“I am seeing somebody in this building,” the man said with a thick accent.
“And who would that be, sir?”
“Mr. Howard Menzies.”
This did not add up at all to Jeff. “And what business would you have with Mr. Menzies?”
“I am having private business,” the young man said.
“Your name?”
“Peter Hausman.”
Jeff looked him up and down. “Wait right here, please,” he said. Jeff went inside and spoke to Ralph, the new desk man. “I’ve got a suspicious character out here who wants to see Mr. Menzies. Is he in?”
Ralph consulted a list of the building’s occupants. “Yes, unless he went out through the garage.”
“Get him on the house phone; I want to speak to him.”
Ralph dialed the number and listened. “Mr. Menzies? Jeff, the doorman, would like to speak with you.” He handed the phone to Jeff.
“Hello, Mr. Menzies?” Jeff said.
“Yes, Jeff, what is it?”
“There’s someone down here wanting to see you, but I wanted to speak to you before I let him in.”
“Who is it?”
“He says his name is Hausman, Peter Hausman.”
There was a long moment’s silence on the line, then Menzies spoke. “Oh, yes, that’s my nephew. He was in town for my wife’s funeral last week. Please send him up.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Menzies, but could you describe your nephew, please? I want to be sure it’s the right person.”
“He is about my height, has very short hair, and dresses rather oddly,” Menzies replied.
“Does he have an accent?” Jeff asked.
“Yes, he does.”
“I’ll send him right up,” Jeff said. He walked back to the front door and opened it. “Come in,” he said to the young man. “Take the elevator to the sixteenth floor; Mr. Menzies is expecting you.”
Hausman said nothing but went straight to the elevator and pressed the button.
Jeff felt he had covered himself, but he didn’t like having someone like that in the building. The other apartment owners wouldn’t like it, either, he knew.
“Jeff,” Ralph said.
Yeah?
“Carlos called in sick, and it’s recycling day. Would you please put the cans and newspapers out?”