don’t want to come in right behind him,” said Nestor. “I’m gonna make a U-turn and come into the place from the other direction.”
It took no more than a glimpse to see that here was your stone basic Active Adult housing. A metal plaque on a stanchion by the driveway bore the name Alhambra Lakes. On one side the entryway opened up onto a big parking lot… packed with cars… dimly lit by a few lamps on tall stanchions. Igor’s Vulcan had just entered it. The apartment buildings were the most basic they had seen so far. At a glance they looked like two grim solid cubes of brick… each three stories high… adorned only by the inevitable tiny balconies and the sliding glass doors… no shrubbery or any other horticultural or arboricultural decoration, not even a hopeful palm tree or two.
“What do you suppose this is all about?” said John Smith… with a nod back toward Alhambra Lakes.
“I’m gonna drive in there,” said Nestor. He pulled over onto the shoulder of the road… then made a U-turn… gunned the Camaro so suddenly, it threw John Smith’s head back… but almost immediately had to slow down to turn into the Active Adults’ driveway… and there was the Volvo Vulcan, nosed into a parking slot. The taillights were off, but the lights were on in its interior.
“I’m gonna drive by,” said Nestor, “but don’t look at him. Don’t even look in his direction. I’m gonna go slow, like we’re trying to find someplace to park.”
Before they reached the Vulcan… there was the burly figure, Igor, opening the Vulcan’s big rear door.
“Don’t look,” said Nestor. “Or maybe turn your head a little bit in the other direction.”
Which they did. Nestor didn’t even try to look with peripheral vision. When they reached the end of the row of cars, they were very close to the nearest building, and he was able to see through a wide, open entrance, which looked like a sort of tunnel. At the other end, toward the interior, more miserable overhead lighting.
“Must be a courtyard,” said John Smith.
Nestor made a U-turn and drove slowly down the other side of the row. When they reached the front of the Volvo Vulcan, the interior lights were off.
“He’s walking toward the building,” said John Smith.
“What the hell’s that he’s carrying?” said Nestor. “That big flat thing.”
“I don’t know,” said John Smith. “Looks like a portfolio. You know, an artist’s portfolio.”
“I’m gonna turn around again there at the end. See if you can tell where he’s going.”
Nestor made the turn very slowly and headed back up the other side.
“There he is,” said John Smith. “He’s going into that entrance, the one we just went by.”
Nestor got just the barest glimpse of Igor as he disappeared into the tunnel or whatever it was called. He stopped the Camaro right there in the middle of the parking lot.
“Whattaya think he’s doing here?” said Nestor. “You realize we’re practically in Fort Lauderdale… and we’re hell west of nowhere? I don’t get it. And you say he’s got a studio in Wynwood?”
“It’s not just a studio, Nestor, it’s a whole apartment, and it’s pretty nice. I know plenty of artists, successful ones, too, who would die to have a setup like that.”
“I do… not… get… this,” said Nestor.
“Well… what do we do now?”
“There’s not much we can do right now,” said Nestor. “It’s past four a.m. We can’t just go wandering around the place in the middle of the night.”
The Camaro’s headlights were still on the building… Silence… Then John Smith said, “We’ll have to come back in the morning and wait until he leaves and then see what we can do…”
Silence… the Camaro’s headlights aimlessly illuminated part of a row of cars… the lot was packed… The Camaro was almost ten years old, and Nestor thought about how now, when the engine idled, he was aware of the chassis vibrating.
“It’s already early in the morning,” said Nestor. “A guy like Igor—I don’t see him going out to a strip club and getting drunk until three in the morning and then getting up at six. You saw all that shit he unloaded from the Vulcan. He wasn’t just dropping by for a visit.”
“Ummmm… I guess you’re right,” said John Smith. “Besides, we’ve got to go home and change. We’ve got to look serious when we go in there.” He nodded toward the building Igor had gone into. “Do you have a jacket?”