Exploitation: Second Floor
© 2020 by Walter Reimer


Thumbnail art by Stock Footage


Just to put your minds at rest, I changed my phone number that afternoon, after I’d finished what I’d been doing. Mama Carroll didn’t raise any stupid kids.

Anyway.

To my complete surprise, the first person I saw when the elevator door opened I was confronted with an Orthodox priest, complete in black cassock, hat and crucifix around his neck. The polecat mumbled something and crossed me as we exchanged places in the elevator, and I nodded to him in thanks as the doors closed.

“Hello!” a young wolverine girl said, and she smiled as she asked, “Are you Miss Carroll?” I was surprised; her English was accented but very good, and she knew my name. Had word been passed down from the floors I’d already visited?

I put on my best smile. “Hello, and yes, I’m Alice Carroll.”

“Great!” she said happily. “I’m Svetlana. We’ve been waiting for you.”

My ears semaphored, almost by reflex. “By the people upstairs?” I asked.

Svetlana gave a very unladylike snort. “Those people? No, they’re odd,” she said with a flip of one paw. “Papa’s lawyer told us.”

Papa - ?

Oh.

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” I said, and I honestly meant it.

“Thank you,” she said, but from her attitude I thought that she’d heard it before and was just humoring me. “Mama said she wanted to see you,” and she led me down one of the halls to a room whose door was standing open. “Mama, she’s here!”

I stepped into the room as a large and rather pretty middle-aged wolverine femme got to her feet. She smiled and extended a paw. “Miss Carroll?” she asked in halting English. “I am pleased to meet you.”

I smiled and shook her paw as I said, “Spasibo, ya tozhe ochen' rada poznakomit'sya s vami.”

The smile on her face widened and she gave me a quick, tight hug. “You speak Russian so well!” she enthused. “I am Lyudmilla.”

“Alice.”

“You simply must come and have some tea, and we have zakuski. You must be hungry,” and her ears flicked and she laughed as my stomach suddenly grumbled as I glanced at the table. There was bread, and smoked fish, and pickles, and cheese, and pickled carrots; and there was tea.

I was suddenly, painfully, aware that I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since breakfast. I’d had syrniki and buckwheat porridge for breakfast, and it had really stuck to my ribs.

I was also suddenly, painfully, made aware of other things.

“Um, excuse me, but may I use your bathroom?” I asked. “I need to wash my paws,” and Lyudmilla smiled as she pointed out the bathroom to me.

When I got back from the bathroom, a bottle of vodka had been added to the table, but I opted for tea with sugar. I’m working, so no booze for Alice until after I’m off the clock. Lyudmilla urged me to eat, so I helped myself to a few things and we chatted over tea.

“Oleg got his money,” the wolverine femme said, “and he just insisted on bringing all of us here from Yakutsk. ‘Moscow is where it’s at,’ he kept saying.” She bit savagely into a slice of bread she’d topped with cheese and kolbasa. “This whole floor was our home. Now that he’s gone,” and she crossed herself, “there’s nothing here for us. We’ve been waiting for you since the funeral.”

I paused to chew and swallow before I said anything. The pickled carrots were superb, just a hint of dill and honey. “I’m very sorry I’ve kept you waiting,” I said, “but I didn’t get the contract until a few days ago – “

She waved this off, downing a shot of vodka and smacking her lips. Just because I was abstaining didn’t mean she had to go without. “Yes, the new owner of the building let us know, so we decided to wait. Just to make certain, you understand, that the building was actually in new paws,” and she eyed me. “You’re a bit late.”

“I started up on the tenth floor.” Felt like a year ago, too.

“Ah, so you’ve started at the top,” and she nodded. “Do you do that all the time?”

“Yes,” I replied. “It seems to go faster.”

“Of course,” the younger wolverine looked up from her phone long enough to say, adding, “you’re going downhill.” We all had a good chuckle at that, while she went back to texting.

“Have you found anything worth saving from this place?” Lyudmilla asked, and she snorted when I showed her the portrait of Leonid Ilyich I had in my bag. “Where did you find that shitty old thing?” I told her, and what someone had written on the wall behind it. We both had a good laugh.

“You say your whole family’s on this floor?” I asked, and when she nodded I asked, “Do you know about the others, upstairs?”

“Pack of spongers and nitwits, if you ask me,” Lyudmilla snorted again. “Oleg was a soft touch at times, and was very free with his money. Of course, there’s plenty, so we’re quite set.”

“And you’re moving back to Yakutsk?” I asked.

Her daughter spoke up again. “I’d still like to go somewhere sunny and warm, like Cyprus. The boys there are good-looking.” Her mother and I shared a knowing glance.

“We’ll go this summer,” Lyudmilla said, and this made the daughter actually lose interest in her phone.

“You mean it, Mama?” she asked, her eyes like saucers.

Lyudmilla nodded. “Of course I mean it.” Her daughter leaped up and hugged her, and her mother added, “But only if you pass your exams.”

“I will! I will! I love you, Mama,” and Svetlana kissed her mother on both cheeks before dashing out of the room. Likely to tell any other family members on the floor.

I finished my tea and the final pickled carrot. “I really must get going, Lyudmilla. I have one more floor to go.” At her nod I got to my feet. We shared another hug, and I headed back to the elevator to finish my assignment.




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