04 - Shock and Awesome (10 page)

 
   
The realtor met me at the door. She was young, fresh-faced and eager to please. Or eager to get the apartment rented. Either way, she was a lot nicer than the last guy.

 
   
"I'm
Renata
. This your first place?" she asked with a hopeful smile.

 
   
"Nope." I shook her soft hand. "Just got to move."

 
   
"Oh." She shrugged and didn't ask anymore, choosing instead to fiddle with her keychain until she found the right key for the door. Opening it, she indicated that I follow. "It's top floor," she told me, over her shoulder. "So no upstairs neighbor noise."

 
   
"Great." I tried to sound enthusiastic, but failed as I plodded after her. We didn't see any other residents until the third floor when a man hurled past us, forcing
Renata
and me to plaster ourselves against the wall. With his jacket collar turned up, and a Yankees cap pulled low over his head, he bulldozed past us without so much as a “Sorry.”

 
   
"Excuse us," snipped
Renata
, not too subtly or quietly. The man paused for a fraction of a second on the landing below. His chin turned upwards, revealing a
stubbled
, square jaw, and from what I could see, the lower half of a handsome face. Then he plowed on, casually flipping us the finger.

 
   
Nice neighbor.

 
   
"You're going to love the apartment,"
Renata
continued as we made our way to the top. "It’s freshly painted and the furniture is all included. You can move in right away."

 
   
I decided not to move in thirty seconds after she opened the triple-locked door and showed me a beige space. Sure, it was light and someone had clearly made an effort, but the fresh paint job didn't take away the lingering smell of cigarettes and the faint scent of something rotten. The laminate floor was cheap looking, and I'm pretty certain
Renata
got an electric shock when she flicked the kitchen light switch to show off clean, but desperately old units.

 
   
All the same, I checked the price with her as we made our way from tiny kitchen to tiny bathroom, which had no bath. On to the bedroom, the window of which showcased a panoramic view of the brick exterior of the building next door. A building less than two yards away. "It's really the best I have,"
Renata
confirmed when I asked. "A lot of buildings here are going owner-occupied. People want to get on the property ladder while they still can.
Frederickstown
is very up and coming. It might well become unaffordable in a couple of years after the area renovation is completed."

 
   
What a depressing thought. Then a mouse ran across my foot.
Renata
screamed, concluding the apartment's plus points (i.e., affordable, no human roommates), which failed to outweigh the negatives that were too numerous to count.

 
   
My final appointment of the day looked promising. On paper. Seriously, what was it with realtors? Why did they have to waste my time by giving a glowing description for a less than average apartment? Why couldn't they just be brutally honest? The big plus for this one was that it wasn't far from the agency. Close enough, in fact, that I could walk
there
daily and thus save money on gas. Gas money to offset the super high rent. But when coupled with the location - within easy walking distance of stores, coffee bars and one of several of my favorite bars - there was a certain lure to it. Unfortunately, it took me thirty minutes of driving in circles before I found a parking spot; time spent that only dropped my mood lower. It was also time enough to see one attempted mugging; but the thief was unceremoniously lambasted by an old lady's purse and ran away limping. "You go, girl!" I cheered from the safety of my VW.

 
   
I knew I wasn't taking it before I ever stepped inside the building, even with a parking space I grabbed with one quick swing of the steering wheel, minutes from the door. I don't know what did it for me - the screaming couple in the lobby, or the Rottweiler slobbering at the doorman's desk, or the open dealing of narcotics - I really couldn't decide.

 
   
"It's not for me," I told the grumpy realtor. Unlike Rick and
Renata
, he clearly lost all enthusiasm for his job.

 
   
"No kidding," he replied, with a wry smile. "I just can't find a renter for this place."

 
   
"Can't think of why."

 
   
We both looked at the drug-dealing doorman. "Me neither," said the realtor. "Maybe the lobby needs a palm tree. Make it look classy."

 
   
"Yep, that should do it," I agreed, although I suspected he might not be joking. We took one last look at the dealer and left. My phone rang as soon as I climbed into my car, and Solomon flashed on the screen. Well, not flashed. That would be
awesome
. His name flashed on the screen. Even so, I had a hot flush just thinking about him.

 
   
Naked.

 
   
Him. Not me.

 
   
"I need you," said Solomon.

 
   
Holy cow
, said a little voice inside me.

 
   
"Okay," I squeaked.

 
   
"Now."

 
   
Yes! Though
... "Uh, what for?"

 
   
"I need a ride home."

 
   
Typical. "Don't you have a car?" I knew he had a car. When I parked my car next to it, the VW looked like his Lexus LX's baby.

 
   
"I do. But it won't move."

 
   
"So... fix it?"

 
   
"I have many talents, but fixing cars isn't one of them. My mechanic can't pick it up until tomorrow morning. So, I need a ride home from the office."

 
   
I tried not to think about his many talents. He was right though. He had many talents. "You're leaving kind of early."

 
   
"I have plans."

 
   
It was and wasn't news to me. No one really knew what Solomon did in his free time, though I had the opportunity to enjoy his free time on more than one occasion. I knew he could cook and he liked sports and was in the process of redecorating his house. But unless I was part of the plans - not recently - he never elaborated on what he did in his free time. Apparently, he wasn't going to now either. Not that I cared or anything.

 
   
"So..." he prompted.

 
   
"I'm near the office. I'll be by in ten," I told him. I pondered what plans were so important that he couldn't miss them and had to beg me for a ride. Of course, I still didn't care.

 
   
"I'll wait out front," said Solomon before clicking off.

 
   
It occurred to me as I pulled up outside the agency, that Solomon must have known I was nearby, otherwise why call when time was essential? Though now I thought about it, he did know I wasn't actively on a job yet, so he wouldn't be waiting hours. All the same, it would have been easier for him to call a car service. I said as much to him when he climbed in, folding his long legs under the dashboard, and sighing as he pushed the seat as far back as it would to go to give him some extra room. I'm fairly certain I didn't gasp audibly at the sight, but if I did, I would blame it on a backfiring tailpipe.

 
   
"I knew you weren't on a job," he explained. "Since I only assigned you one case and you haven't started yet."

 
   
"I have. I've been reading the background information you left this morning."

 
   
Solomon arched a brow as if to say I proved his point. "You weren't performing surveillance," he replied, which was pointless because, well, I already knew that. "What were you doing on Tenth Street?"

 
   
"How did you know I was on Tenth?"

 
   
"Fletcher saw you."

 
   
"And he called to tell you that? What a snitch." I feigned mock shock, but seriously, what a snitch.

 
   
Solomon grinned. "No. We were talking on the phone already and he mentioned he saw you go into a building and come out again two minutes later. You don't know anyone on Tenth." It wasn't a question. He knew too much. How annoying.

 
   
"How do you know?" I asked and Solomon raised his eyebrow again. "You're such a stalker. I was apartment hunting."

 
   
"What's wrong with your place?"

 
   
"It's sold. I have to be out in a month."

 
   
"Ah."

 
   
"More like 'argh!' Do you know how hard apartment hunting in Montgomery is right now? I saw a mouse."

 
   
"Did you shoot it?" Solomon smiled broadly.

 
   
Weird idea of a good time, but to each his own. I rolled my eyes as I pulled out into an open gap in the traffic. "I didn't have my gun because I didn't think I'd need it apartment hunting. Besides, I don't think that's the best pest control."

 
   
"But effective," Solomon countered. When I thought about apartment number three, I wondered what kind of pests I'd have to shoot to get a peaceful home life.

 
   
Since we were too early for rush hour traffic, we made it to Solomon's house in half the usual time. I parked outside his house, not bothering to pull into the vacant parking spaces, when he apparently didn’t intend to make any moves to invite me in.

 
   
"You read up on all the suspects?" he asked, his hand lingering on the door catch.

 
   
"Yep. And I scanned the files of the previously linked crimes and read the witness statements too."

 
   
"Anything stand out?"

 
   
"Not a thing. You?"

 
   
"Not yet."

 
   
"Actually..." I paused, pursing my lips as I thought about not what was in the files, but what wasn't. "Actually, I can't see an obvious motive for any of these four guys to be the thief. Are you sure the suspect pool isn't wider?"

 
   
"I asked the same thing. Helen
Callery
assures me the criteria she narrowed the suspects down to was stringent. I had Lucas double-check and he agrees, but if we don't get any leads, we'll start on the next pool." He must have seen me pull a face. "Look on the bright side," he told me, amusement in his eyes. "Free dinner. No washing up."