Heart Craving by Sandra Hill Page A

with a sly smile. She pulled a set of keys out of her drawer and stood, towering over Paula. “C’mon, I want to show you something.” Without waiting for Paula’s agreement, she led her through the door of her office, making sure to lock the three dead bolts. Then she walked briskly down a corridor to the stairway, bypassing the elevator. “Half the time the elevators don’t work,” she explained, “and the smell inside their close confines is enough to gag a maggot.”
    The smells were pretty bad in the halls, too, Paula thought, recognizing spaghetti sauce and urine and God only knew what other odors. Graffiti marked the walls, and the sounds of crying children and arguing adults echoed through the thin walls of the units.
    She felt like crying.
    Hurrying to catch up, she followed the energetic woman up one flight of stairs after another, till they got to the fourth floor.
    “This apartment is empty right now,” Mrs. Chancellor told her as she inserted a key in the door and entered, motioning for Paula to follow.
    Paula looked around at the small combination living room and kitchen. The two windows overlooked the dumpsters on one side and the brick walls of the next building on the other. Sun would rarely brighten these drab rooms.
    In the single bedroom, two double beds took up almost the entire space except for a dresser with a cracked mirror. The grimy bathroom had only a sink, a toilet, and a tub with no showerhead.
    Coming back to Mrs. Chancellor, Paula raised an eyebrow questioningly, unsure what her prospective employer wanted her to see.
    “This is the apartment where Nick grew up with his mother and four brothers and sisters.”
    Paula clasped a hand to her heart, and tears welled in her eyes. Oh, no! Oh, God, no! Such a dismal place!
    “Actually, they weren’t as crowded as most families here,” Mrs. Chancellor went on. “You know, of course, about Lita?”
    Paula nodded. Nick had told her his little sister had died when she was a baby.
    “Lita passed on when Nick was only five years old. That’s why the authorities called me in. Too bad the little one had to die to bring about any change here.” She shook her head woefully in remembrance.
    The fine hairs stood out on Paula’s neck. She knew the little girl had died, but apparently Nick had left out a few facts. “How did her death bring you here?”
    Mrs. Chancellor looked surprised at Paula’s question. “You don’t know how Lita died?”
    Paula hesitated, not sure she wanted to know.
    “Rat bites,” Mrs. Chancellor informed her bluntly.
    Paula exhaled loudly with dismay and sank down to the sofa, realizing immediately that it had a broken spring, and moved to the other side. “Tell me.”
    “The old superintendent—Wilson—was skimming money out of the projects for years. One of the areas he stole from was pest control. His idea of rat eradication was to bring in cats, dozens of the rat catchers, which, of course, weren’t sufficient to curb the rodent population.”
    Cats? So, that’s why Nick hates cats. They remind him of the projects. And rats. She laced her fingers together in her lap to stop their trembling.
    “Lita was only one year old, sleeping in her crib. Her mother was out somewhere. Drinking, no doubt. And Nick was in charge of the younger children.”
    Oh, poor Nick! And only five years old.
    Even the hardened Mrs. Chancellor seemed shaken then as she recalled the past. “That summer was especially bad here in the projects. Unrelenting heat. A sanitation strike. And rats.” She sighed deeply. “The bottom line is that Lita was bitten repeatedly by rats. Nick didn’t understand the seriousness; he was only a kid. And his mother was negligence personified.”
    “No!” Paula resisted what she suspected was coming next.
    “Yes. A rampant infection set in, which wasn’t treated for days. Lita died within a week of blood poisoning.”
    Paula gagged and rushed for the bathroom. When she emerged a short time later,