“Besides no AC, how is it?” Mike asked now. “Are you moved in?”
From the open bathroom door, Drex could see practically the entire apartment, and virtually every square inch of it was empty, as had been most of the boxes he’d carted up the stairs for the benefit of his audience next door. The apartment had come furnished, though sparsely. He’d brought only the essentials needed to keep himself clothed and groomed. He’d brought a coffeemaker, but he hadn’t lied about a steady diet of fast food.
“All settled in,” he told Mike. “My laptop is on the kitchen table. My pistol is between the mattress and box spring.”
“In other words, it’s the same as your place here,” Mike said. “And you’ve lived here for how long?”
“Is there a reason for this call? If so, get to it. Because I don’t want to be late for my date.”
“In two days’ time you’ve already lined up a girl?” Mike said. “When you said ‘fully cocked,’ you really meant it? I’ll have to check my charts, but I think this might be a record.”
“There’s no girl, and cut the bullshit. Is Gif with you? Put me on speaker.” When Drex could tell that Mike had switched over, he said, “Jasper Ford invited me over for dinner tonight.”
After a second or two of stunned silence, Mike and Gif exclaimed their surprise.
“Here I have my high-powered binocs focused, all set up to spy on him, and he comes over today with a cold beer and a handshake, welcoming me to the neighborhood. I’m glad he made the first move. That saved me from having to devise a way to put me in his path and make his acquaintance.”
He gave them a run-down of their conversation. “It was casual, friendly, but definitely an appraisal. When he saw me moving in, he called Arnott to check me out.”
“Paranoid, you think?” Gif asked.
“Or just a watchful property owner, cautious of strangers,” Mike said. “Anybody in that kind of neighborhood would be.”
“It could be either,” Drex said. “I should have a better feel for him after our dinner.”
“What about the missus?” Mike asked.
It had been a worry to them that, although Drex had spotted Jasper coming and going over the past two days, he hadn’t seen any sign of his wife. “He told me that she’s been out of town, which I hope is the truth and that she’s still alive. While we were talking, he did receive a text ostensibly from her.” He told them about the delayed flight.
“Why Chicago?” Gif asked.
“He didn’t say. But he did say that her being delayed happens a lot, indicating that she flies often.”
“Makes sense,” Mike said. “She was in the travel business.”
“Yes, was,” Drex said. Mike had discovered that the sale of Shafer Travel, Inc., had been the source of Mrs. Ford’s mega bucks. “Question is, why is she still frequently on the go?”
When no answer was forthcoming, Drex said, “I’ll feel better when I can confirm she’s still with us. Maybe I’ll get a lot of questions answered tonight. Speaking of…” He glanced out the window. The sun was sinking. “I’ve got to go now, get dressed, make a run to the liquor store.”
“What for?”
“It wouldn’t be neighborly to show up for dinner empty-handed.”
As he signed off, he was thinking how neighborly it had been of Jasper to bring him a beer and then offer to toss the bottle for him.
However, wouldn’t it have been more neighborly to let Drex finish drinking the beer? But no, Jasper Ford had wanted that bottle back.
“White for the crab cakes. Red for the steaks.” Drex held up the bottles of wine in turn as he approached the screened porch where Jasper was sitting in a rocking chair beneath a twirling ceiling fan.
He got up and held open the screen door. “You didn’t have to do that, but thank you.” He took the bottles from Drex. “How about a drink first?”
“What are you having?” Drex motioned toward the highball glass on the wicker table next to the rocking chair.
“Bourbon on the rocks.”
“Water?”
“No.”
Drex grinned. “Perfect.”
“Have a seat.” Jasper put the white wine in the mini fridge beneath the built-in bar and poured Drex’s drink. As he handed it to him, he said, “You do clean up okay.”
Drex raised his glass in a quasi toast. “I try.” He’d shaved, but had left a scruff. He’d worn casual slacks and a button-up shirt, the shirttail out. Docksiders, no