Death Waxed Over - Tim Myers [41]
“Come on, man, hold it down. I’m trying to chill over here.”
“Have you seen Becka Lane tonight?”
He said, “I haven’t even hit the bars yet. Is she yours?”
What a pig. “She’s your neighbor. Are you saying you haven’t met her yet? Did you just move in?”
“No, I’ve been here three months. She’s kind of old for me, you know? More like your speed.”
I let the obvious implied insult slip off me. I didn’t have time to debate an unarmed opponent. “Where’s the super live?”
“Vince? We call him our facilitator.”
“I don’t care if you call him princess, where does he live?”
“Chill, he’s over in 27B.”
I left without a word, hoping that Vince was not a twin to the man I’d been talking to. Becka’s neighbor was a type I’d run into before, the carefully packaged but hopelessly shallow bachelor constantly on the prowl for the next morsel, never caring if the gift was all glamorous wrapping with nothing of merit inside. There were female counterparts as well, but I’d managed to avoid them over the years, or more likely, they’d avoided me. I’d never had the look they were interested in, driving a pickup instead of a convertible, wearing jeans and not Armani.
An older man with cropped gray hair and thick glasses answered on the first knock. “Can I help you?”
“I hope so. Are you Vince? I’m a friend of Becka Lane’s. I got a disturbing telephone call from her tonight on my answering machine. When I tried to call her back, the line was busy, so I called the operator. No luck, it’s off the hook. I need to get inside her apartment to check on her.”
Vince stepped up close to me and said fiercely, “You think that’s going to work on me? I wasn’t born yesterday, jerk. Now get out of here before I break you in half.”
I put my hands forward and said, “Hang on a second.”
“Don’t lie to me, you’re the one who’s been stalking her. If you don’t leave Becka alone, I’ll make you wish you had.”
“I’m not the guy who’s been following her. My name’s Harrison Black. Becka and I used to date.”
He studied me a second, then said, “If you two are so close, what’s her mother’s first name?”
“You’ve got to be kidding. I don’t have a clue.”
He started toward me again as I added, “I never called her anything but Mrs. Hurst.”
That stopped him. “How’d you know her last name?”
“Why shouldn’t I? We had dinner together a few times. It was a few times too many for me, if you want to know the truth.”
Vince finally eased up his stance. “Yeah, I met her last month. She’s a real charmer, isn’t she? Wait right here and I’ll grab my keys.”
As we hurried back to Becka’s apartment, I asked, “How well do you know her?”
“Becka and I have been friends since I took this job four months ago. Hey, are you the fella with the candleshop?”
“Guilty,” I said.
“Yeah, it figures. I’ve been trying to figure out why she called you instead of me. No offense, but I’m a lot closer. What did she say?”
“She said the guy who’s been stalking her was here.”
Vince punched one hand with the other. “I’m going to kill him when I get my hands on him.”
“Let’s hope he’s nowhere in sight,” I said.
As we got to Becka’s door, I expected Vince to charge in, but instead he rang her doorbell first, then knocked.
“Come on, we’re wasting time. Let’s go,” I said.
“Sorry, I have to do it this way or I’ll get fired.” We waited ten seconds, then he said, “That’s long enough.”
As Vince approached the door with his key extended, to my surprise, it opened on its own.
Becka looked confused when she saw us both standing there. She was in a bathrobe and her hair was up in a towel. “I was in the shower,” she said. “What are you two doing here?”
“I