18
FRED WALASCHEK’S ROOM wasn’t any bigger than Alice Rankin’s, but it was set up quite differently. The door opened into something of a hallway, and that hallway opened into a single room containing a neatly-made bed. Fred was the type who pulled the comforter all the way up over the pillows, which set Luella ill-at-ease. Beds made that way seemed to be hiding something.
In addition to the bed, there was a desk. In reality, just a long plank set into the wall. Fred told her all about its creation, how he’d found the wood in a skip, and then coaxed another resident into holding it in place while his niece got underneath with a drill to screw everything together.
“How are your knees?” he asked. “Could you still get under a desk if the right person asked you to screw?”
“My knees ar
