Page 87 of Pied Sniper

“No. Years ago.”

“And he’s still hopelessly devoted?”

“Apparently. I don’t know if that’s sweet or weird.”

“We’re here and that looks like his car,” said Solomon. We drove past his vehicle and parked a little further down the block, behind a cluster of trees. We hopped out and walked back and Solomon pressed his hand on the car’s hood. “Still hot,” he said. “He must have returned here as soon as he left the bar.”

“We should surprise him before he gets a chance to evade us again,” I said, hurrying when I saw a woman exiting the complex. “Hold the door, please!” I called. “Thank you.”

“Are you here for 4C?” she asked, “Can you ask the realtor to greet their potential tenants at the door? You people keep pressing all the buzzers.”

“How annoying,” I said with as much sympathy as I could muster.

“We’ll be sure to pass it on,” added Solomon. “Have a great day!”

“Oh, yes, I will,” she replied breathily, staring at him.

“Good grief,” I muttered as I grabbed his hand, pulling him after me.

“What a nice lady,” said Solomon.

“Delightful.” I dropped his hand and headed for the stairs. Solomon jogged after me and we headed to the third floor, then down the corridor to apartment “4D.” I stuck my thumb over the peephole and Solomon knocked. “I’m the new tenant in 4C. I think there’s a leak,” he called.

The door pulled open and I smiled. “Hi,” I said, raising my hand in a friendly wave. Davy looked startled and began to slam the door but Solomon had already wedged his foot in the gap. The door bounced off his boot, hit the wall, and bounced back. Solomon’s hand shot out and he stopped it from closing.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” snapped Davy. “Go away!” He shooed us with his hands.

“You don’t know who we are,” I said.

“I know you’re not the new tenants.”

“We might be,” said Solomon. “You’re not being very neighborly.”

“I don’t have to talk to you.”

“We saw you at the press conference and again at the bar today. We know you’re Davy Morris and we think you’re involved in Tiffany’s disappearance so either talk to us now or I’m going to call the FBI and they’ll arrest you for felony kidnapping,” I said, losing patience with him.

“Wait! What?” His gaze darted from me to Solomon. “You think I had something to do with Tiffany’s kidnapping? It’s nothing like that! I’m trying to rescue her!”

“Great! Can’t wait to hear all about it,” I said, shunting my way into his apartment.

“I know you don’t believe me,” he said, following me after giving Solomon an uncomfortable look. Solomon maintained his most intimidating look and filled up the entire doorway. How I admired his range. He could go from smoldering for elderly ladies to life-threatening in an instant. I knew he could tip this guy upside-down and shake the truth out of him. It was a special talent. “But it’s true! I got a message from Tiffany! She sounded desperate. She said I was the only person who could save her!”

“Really? Only you? Not the FBI? Or the police?” asked Solomon.

I looked around the small apartment, noting the nice mid-century furniture and a collection of good quality electronics. The colors were navy and white mixed in with wood tones. Either Davy had really good taste or he splurged on an interior designer. Now that I could see him without his coat on, his clothes were nice too. Jeans that fit well and a nice polo shirt and sweater combo. His hair was groomed and his glasses were chic. He was nice-looking in a bland, generic way. He would definitely be attractive to an elementary school teacher or an office manager, but never a wannabe starlet like Tiffany. The attraction really didn’t add up, and neither did his claims.

“Who are you anyway?” he asked. He folded his arms and puffed out his chest in a manly display that really didn’t belong to him. Davy didn’t look like he’d say boo to a goose but if he did, he’d definitely apologize afterwards.

“Lexi Graves, Private Investigator. And this is John Solomon, my boss. We’ve been hired by Abigail Swanson to find Tiffany.”

“Where is she?”

“If we knew that, we wouldn’t be wasting our time chasing after you, our number one suspect at present,” said Solomon.

“Oh, man.” Davy dropped onto the couch and covered his face with his hands. “How can I be a suspect? I told you, I’m trying to rescue Tiffany!”

“So why did you run from me at the press conference? And then again today?”

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