Read Online Sleep Tight by Jeffrey Jacobson - Free Book Online

pallid man in his mid-fifties who demanded that the employees call him Mr. Ullman, never by his first name. He looked like he might be sick any minute.
    Daisy’s handler, Roger Bickle, was a round little man dressed in a white uniform with a red bow tie. He knelt down and peeled up the fitted sheet from the mattress. Using a pen flashlight, he lifted the edge of the mattress and examined the seams. Daisy barked again.
    â€œWhat does that mean?” Mr. Ullman asked again, impatience cracking his voice. “Why is he doing that?”
    â€œIt’s a ‘she,’ sir, and it means that we have a positive result.”
    â€œPositive? So that is . . .” Mr. Ullman was clearly overwhelmed and confused. He refused to give up the hope that a positive result meant that his rooms were pest-free.
    The exterminator shook his head. “It’s not a good thing, sir. I’m sorry.” He stood, grim and apologetic, hoping his professional appearance would reassure the general manager. Roger secretly liked wearing his company’s uniform. He went along with the usual bitching and moaning about the ridiculous outfit in the locker room, but every morning, he felt proud to clip on the bow tie. He believed the uniform carried authority, and had a calming effect on clients.
    He circled the bed, pulling up the fitted sheet as he went. “I’m afraid to inform you that Daisy has given us a positive sign. And what that means, sir, is that you have an infestation of bedbugs.” He swept the pen light along the seams in the mattress and focused on a spot near the headboard. “Yes. Here we are. You can clearly see a physical presence right here.”
    Mr. Ullman got closer, put on his glasses, and stooped over, peering at the circle of light. He saw brown spots dotting the fabric and what looked like tiny, finely crumbled scabs. “What is it?” he finally asked.
    â€œBedbug fecal matter,” Roger said with no small amount of satisfaction. For a moment, he thought the general manager might actually vomit. “See, what happens is—”
    â€œPlease, I don’t need to know.” Mr. Ullman sank back onto the leather couch. “All I want to know is how to get rid of them. Quickly and quietly.”
    â€œThey might be in the couch too,” Roger pointed out helpfully.
    Mr. Ullman leapt to his feet and swatted at the tail of his suit coat. He looked like he was about to cry. Instead, he fingered his tie.
    Roger grunted and pulled the mattress sideways about a foot. Lying on the floor, he shone the pen light on the underside of the mattress. “Yes, sir. There is most definitely an infestation of bedbugs here.” He pinched something tiny between his thumb and forefinger. It looked like the husk of some foreign fruit seed. “Here we have an exoskeleton.”
    He swung his flashlight back to the wall. “And like any bug, when there’s one, there’s a ton.” He held the exoskeleton out.
    Mr. Ullman waved it away. Now that the harsh reality had settled in, he only wanted to know one thing. “How do we get rid of them?”
    Roger struggled to his feet. “That, sir, is not an easy question.”
    â€œSurely you must have some kind of pesticide for these things.”
    â€œYes and no,” Roger said while checking the other side of the bed. “DDT nearly wiped them out fifty years ago, but of course, to the benefit of humanity”—he had a quiet laugh with himself—“that’s been banned. Most of the bugs they’ve tested show signs of immunity anyway. Bedbugs are awfully . . . resilient. The main problem with pesticides is that even if you find one that works, all you’re doing in a building like this is driving them from one room to another, or one floor to another. They can fit anywhere.”
    â€œA building like this? Are you kidding? This floor was just completed two weeks ago! This entire building is