“Like I said, we didn’t talk that much. She was basically a stranger.”
“Then why do you seem so surprised?”
“Because she just got here. I thought she’d have stayed longer.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Two months,” Dylan says. “Are we about done with the questions? There’s somewhere I need to be.”
Rather than wait for the elevator, which is in use several floors below, Dylan opts for the stairs. He’s either very late for something or extremely eager to be rid of me.
I call after him. “Just one more thing.”
Dylan pauses on the landing between the tenth and eleventh floors, looking up at me with his head askance.
“Did you hear any strange noises last night?” I say. “From Ingrid’s apartment?”
“Last night?” he says. “No, sorry. Can’t help you there.”
Then he’s off again, speeding around the landing and down more steps before I can ask him another question. I use the stairs as well, slower than Dylan, going up instead of down.
A few floors below me, the elevator grate slides shut with a clang. The sound rockets up the stairwell, startling me. To my right, the cables in the center of the stairwell tighten and the elevator begins to rise. When it comes into view, I see Nick inside, a stethoscope draped around his neck. Seeing me through the elevator window, he gives a friendly wave. I wave back and hurry up the remaining steps to the twelfth floor, which we reach in unison.
“Hey there, neighbor,” Nick says as he leaves the elevator. “How’s the arm?”
“It’s great. Thanks for, you know, fixing it.”
I cringe at my tone. Could I be any more awkward? I blame Nick’s whole handsome-doctor vibe, which is intimidating. I suspect the wine I had at Greta’s is also at fault. It’s caught up to me now, making me a little dizzy.
“Making a house call?” I say, gesturing to the stethoscope.
“Yes, unfortunately. Mr. Leonard was having heart palpitations. He swore the big one was coming.”
“Is he okay?”
“I hope so,” Nick says. “That’s not really my specialty. I made him take an aspirin and told him to call 911 if it gets any worse. Knowing him, he won’t. Mr. Leonard’s a stubborn one. And where are you coming from?”
“The tenth floor.”
“Making friends with the neighbors?”
I hesitate, unsure how much I should tell him. “Is that against the rules?”
“Technically, yes. Unless you were invited.”
“Then I plead the fifth.”
Nick laughs. He’s got a nice laugh—a merry chuckle that makes me happy to have caused it. I used to make Andrew laugh all the time. His throaty, trickling laugh was one of the things I liked most about him. I heard it a lot during our first months together. Slightly less after we moved in together. Then it stopped altogether and neither of us noticed. Maybe if we had, things would have turned out differently.
“I won’t tell Leslie, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Nick says. “She’s the one who insists on those silly rules. Most people here couldn’t care less what the apartment sitters do.”
“Then I’ll confess—I went to visit Greta Manville.”
“Now that’s a surprise. Greta doesn’t strike me as being very social, to put a polite spin on it. How on earth did you manage to charm her?”
“I didn’t,” I say. “I bribed her.”
Nick laughs again, and I realize he’s enjoying this conversation. I am, too. I think we might be flirting. I’m not really sure. It’s probably just the wine talking. I’m not the kind of girl who flirts with her next-door neighbor.
“It must have been important for you to resort to bribery.”
“I needed to talk to her about Ingrid Gallagher.”
Nick frowns. “Ah. The runaway.”
“So you’ve heard,” I say.
“Word travels fast in this building.”
Just like that, I realize Ingrid made a mistake when she approached Greta Manville about the Bartholomew’s past. She should have asked someone else. Someone friendly. And handsome. And who has lived here all his life.
“I bet you know a lot about this place,” I say.
Nick shrugs. “I’ve heard some things over the years.”
I bite my bottom lip, not quite believing what I’m about to say next. “Would you like to get coffee? Or maybe a bite to eat?”
Nick gives me a surprised look. “What did you have in mind?”
“You pick. After all, you know the neighborhood.”
And, I hope, he also knows a lot about the Bartholomew.
16
Instead of going out to eat, Nick suggests retreating to his apartment. “I have leftover pizza and cold beer,” he says. “Sorry to be so