An Uneasy Tune

It had been three days since the robbery and I still wasn't sleeping. At 2 p.m. in the afternoon, I went to the Korean market for sleeping pills and a magazine. I was waiting impatiently in line for the man at the counter to complete his purchase of several lottery tickets, when I heard a voice behind me.
"You are troubled," the voice said. I turned to see a slightly heavy middle-aged woman with artificial-looking red hair standing on crutches. "There is trouble in your heart," she repeated.
"There's trouble in everyone's heart, lady," I responded, resuming my gaze ahead.
"No," she disagreed, "You are special and you have been wronged."
I rolled my eyes and sighed as I turned my head back slightly. "Everyone has been wronged."
"Here," said, extending her hand, "I can help you."
I took the card and nodded. "Thanks, I'll let you know."
I put my items on the counter and just before I left she whispered, "Call when you hear the music." I threw the card in the trash on the next corner.
Three days later, I heard from the police. They had recovered my lap top, an external hard drive and blue-ray player from a pawn shop. I went to the station to identify and retrieve the items.
"Do you recognize this?" asked an officer, turning my computer to me. On the screen was a song I had written over a year ago called, "Audition".
"I do," I said.
"What about these, are they yours?" He pointed to the blue-ray player and external hard drive.
"I believe so," I said.
He nodded and began writing something on a paper. "So, how are you doing?"
"I've been staying at the home of a friend who is in New York," I explained. "He won't be back for a few weeks. I'm trying to find a new place before then."
"Good idea," he said. "We have the guy in custody, but there's a lot of crime in the area. What do you do, again?"
"I sing at Wyck's Jazz Club four nights a week and do some paralegal work on the side."
"Well, get another place, even if it means getting a roommate. Have you been getting any sleep?"
"Not really, but I'm working on it."
"Xanax works for a lot of people. It's normal to be anxious, but it will pass."
"What do you know about the guy who did it?"
"Mid twenties. Been in trouble before. Whistles."
"Excuse me?"
"He whistles. Almost constantly. Irritating as hell. Well, you take care now."
On my way out of the station, I passed by booking and saw a group of people handcuffed to chairs that lined the far wall of the room. I made an effort not to look at anyone directly as I carried my cardboard box filled with my electronics , but I became peripherally aware of stares from at least one young man and a middle-aged fellow. Both were white men, one with dark hair and one with blonde. I tried not to be judgmental, but I was thoroughly creeped out. I left the station with a and headed back to Jack's.
Later that night, as the two doses of sleeping pills I had taken were really beginning to kick in, I wished that I had asked the police how soon the robber could be released. As I fell asleep, I could swear that I heard whistling.
The next day, I lay limp in bed and considered apartments. The best one that I had scoped out so far was, of course, the most expensive and would make my monthly budget too tight for me to ever relax again. It was funny, the financial peace of mind the cheaper place afforded me kept me relaxed. So much so that the robbery was completely shocking, though, after talking to the police it seemed that I had missed something. Now, financial matters were no longer my heaviest concern, and, admittedly, I had perhaps been a bit too frugal in the past. I was in the shower when the whistling started again.
As I stood, immobile, a cold chill fought the heat of the water and goose bumps rose on my skin. Finally, I was reminded to breathe and then did so, deeply, nearly gasping for the air I had for moments not realized that I had lost. I turned off the water, with shampoo still in my hair, and opened the shower curtain. After a few minutes of no sound, I stepped out and attempted to turn the knob of the door, reassuring myself that it was firmly locked. I resumed the shower, finished, and dressed in under four minutes. No one was in the apartment.
I was at work at the law firm the following Tuesday when I next heard whistling. For the first time, I noticed the tune, but couldn't place it. It sounded was light and happy, like something from an old cartoon. Since I wasn't alone this time, I searched for the whistler but to no avail. In the company of others, I continued working and remained mostly calm.
In the afternoon, I took a box of evidence into one of the attorney's offices and found a familiar face in his visiting client. The faux-psychic from the Korean market was there, foot still in a cast and crutches leaned against the side of a chair. She was the client, I realized then, who was suing a construction company that had dropped a block on her foot from the top of a one-story building.
"I guess you didn't see that coming," I silently quipped as I placed the box on Barry, the attorney's desk.
"Has the music started yet?" she asked without looking at me. Barry looked up from his desk at the psychic and then at me.
"Music?" he asked us.
I shrugged, bewildered that she remembered me.
"Yes," she answered, "she's been hearing music since having a bad experience."
"The robbery?" Barry asked.
I shrugged again and started to leave. Then, I asked: "What does the music mean?"
"That it isn't over."
"When will I feel safe again?"
"When the music stops."
I had heard the whistling a couple more times before Friday, when I met a wonderful guy for a blind date. In an effort to get my mind off my troubles, a friend from the club set me up with a drummer and we really hit it off. I even felt as though we'd met before. After a round of drinks and dinner, he walked me back to my car. I was surprised when I heard the whistling once more. I turned around and listened as the music faded away with my date. It was then that I realized where I'd seen him before. I quickly got into the car and drove away. As I compared the face of the new man to the younger convict, I was convinced that I was not only taken in by a law-breaker, but by the man who robbed me himself. I never saw him again, but I still hear the music.