pond. I wondered what Louie thought of her.
* * *
Ophah, the Silver Acres receptionist, didn't work on weekends. Volunteers from among the residents filled in at the front desk to answer questions and guide visitors. I usually sat there from 2 to 4 p.m. on Saturdays. On Saturday morning I traded with the man who had the 8 to 10 p.m. shift on Saturday evenings.
Not much happened at the front desk Saturday evenings. Residents who could get out and about were out on their own or with relatives and friends. Those who couldn't were safely ensconced in front of their television sets. No delivery people came to the front door and very few visitors.
Thus, as I sat at the front desk at 8:05 p.m., I was completely alone and silence reigned, apart from the ubiquitous hum of the air conditioning system. I opened a drawer that I knew contained a ring of emergency keys. One of them fit the lock to Carol Grant's office. Carol, who sometimes came in on weekends, would not be here tonight. She was out with Albert.
I sidled over to her office door, which was not far from the reception desk. Keeping one eye on the main corridor and one eye on the parking lot through the front windows, I tried one key after another until one fit. I rotated it in the lock and heard a click. I turned the handle and swung the door slightly open.
I poked my hand through the dark doorway and found the light switch with my fingers; I turned it on. Having gotten this far, I was afraid to go in. I had been a law-abiding citizen all my life. An invisible barrier called a conscience kept me from entering the office. I turned off the light, shut and locked the door, returned to the reception desk and put away the keys.
A half-hour later I took the keys out again and played with them awhile. Finally, I picked them up and returned to Carol's door and opened it. I told myself that all I was going to do was to look around. I turned on the light and after one last sweeping glance of the area to see if anybody was in sight, walked timidly in.
I was interested in the four-drawer metal file cabinet beside the credenza, that I had seen the day before when Tess and I had talked to Carol. I was quite sure that's where the residents' folders were kept. The drawers were unlabeled and the cabinet was locked.
I tried all the keys on my key ring but none of them fit this lock. With almost a sigh of relief I retreated to the door. I hadn't really done anything wrong yet and this was an omen telling me not to. I would return to my station again.
But I didn't. I stood in the doorway for a while, eyeing the file cabinet. I found that my brain was running by itself, in problem-solving mode. Where did Carol keep the key to the cabinet?
She might keep it on her own personal key ring, of course, but that was unlikely. She might keep it in one of the drawers of her desk. I walked around to the business side of the desk and found that all the drawers there were locked. None of the keys on the ring fit these locks, either.
There was a small refrigerator beside the file cabinet that wasn't locked. I opened the door, but there was nothing inside except a container of orange juice.
A wooden cabinet was attached to the wall above the credenza. Its four doors had no locks. I opened each one in turn. I saw books and notebooks, but nothing of interest, and no keys. I idly reached my hand up and felt the top of the cabinet, which was at arm's length above my head. The flat board that formed the top was slightly lower than the top edge of the front vertical panel that hid it. As I ran my fingers along this board they came into contact with something hard.
My fingers closed and I brought a small key ring down to eye level. Sometimes being taller than average pays off. My hands shook as I tried the keys in the filing cabinet lock. The second one worked and the push-lock popped out, startling me. I quickly put the key ring back in its place
* * *
Ophah, the Silver Acres receptionist, didn't work on weekends. Volunteers from among the residents filled in at the front desk to answer questions and guide visitors. I usually sat there from 2 to 4 p.m. on Saturdays. On Saturday morning I traded with the man who had the 8 to 10 p.m. shift on Saturday evenings.
Not much happened at the front desk Saturday evenings. Residents who could get out and about were out on their own or with relatives and friends. Those who couldn't were safely ensconced in front of their television sets. No delivery people came to the front door and very few visitors.
Thus, as I sat at the front desk at 8:05 p.m., I was completely alone and silence reigned, apart from the ubiquitous hum of the air conditioning system. I opened a drawer that I knew contained a ring of emergency keys. One of them fit the lock to Carol Grant's office. Carol, who sometimes came in on weekends, would not be here tonight. She was out with Albert.
I sidled over to her office door, which was not far from the reception desk. Keeping one eye on the main corridor and one eye on the parking lot through the front windows, I tried one key after another until one fit. I rotated it in the lock and heard a click. I turned the handle and swung the door slightly open.
I poked my hand through the dark doorway and found the light switch with my fingers; I turned it on. Having gotten this far, I was afraid to go in. I had been a law-abiding citizen all my life. An invisible barrier called a conscience kept me from entering the office. I turned off the light, shut and locked the door, returned to the reception desk and put away the keys.
A half-hour later I took the keys out again and played with them awhile. Finally, I picked them up and returned to Carol's door and opened it. I told myself that all I was going to do was to look around. I turned on the light and after one last sweeping glance of the area to see if anybody was in sight, walked timidly in.
I was interested in the four-drawer metal file cabinet beside the credenza, that I had seen the day before when Tess and I had talked to Carol. I was quite sure that's where the residents' folders were kept. The drawers were unlabeled and the cabinet was locked.
I tried all the keys on my key ring but none of them fit this lock. With almost a sigh of relief I retreated to the door. I hadn't really done anything wrong yet and this was an omen telling me not to. I would return to my station again.
But I didn't. I stood in the doorway for a while, eyeing the file cabinet. I found that my brain was running by itself, in problem-solving mode. Where did Carol keep the key to the cabinet?
She might keep it on her own personal key ring, of course, but that was unlikely. She might keep it in one of the drawers of her desk. I walked around to the business side of the desk and found that all the drawers there were locked. None of the keys on the ring fit these locks, either.
There was a small refrigerator beside the file cabinet that wasn't locked. I opened the door, but there was nothing inside except a container of orange juice.
A wooden cabinet was attached to the wall above the credenza. Its four doors had no locks. I opened each one in turn. I saw books and notebooks, but nothing of interest, and no keys. I idly reached my hand up and felt the top of the cabinet, which was at arm's length above my head. The flat board that formed the top was slightly lower than the top edge of the front vertical panel that hid it. As I ran my fingers along this board they came into contact with something hard.
My fingers closed and I brought a small key ring down to eye level. Sometimes being taller than average pays off. My hands shook as I tried the keys in the filing cabinet lock. The second one worked and the push-lock popped out, startling me. I quickly put the key ring back in its place
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