“It’s nice,” Nick said, looking up from the peppers. “Feels like people live here.”
The place looked like people with taste lived there. The walls in the kitchen were painted something called aubergine, which according to Alistair made the white cabinets and marble counters pop. There was a tall glass vase of lemons and limes on the island. The room opened into a large, sunny dining room with black and white photos of Alistair and friends on the walls.
“Flattery will get you the best omelet you’ve ever had,” Alistair promised as he turned on a burner on a range that would have made Nick’s dad weep. “The townhouses on the other side of the lot are still owned by a real estate company. They’re all rentals and tend to attract newly divorced men.”
“Like Larry,” Nick prompted, running his knife through a green pepper.
“Exactly. Personally, I wasn’t surprised that Larry was divorcedorthat he disappeared under mysterious circumstances,” Alistair announced.
“Really?”
“Larry was the kind of guy who was divorced for a reason,” Alistair said, pulling a stylish clear bin of eggs out of the refrigerator.
“Aren’t most?”
“There are the typical reasons like ‘he never remembered my birthday’ or ‘he was basically another child,’ and then there areotherreasons.”
“Such as?” Nick wondered if he should be taking notes.
“There was something dark beneath that lumpy surface. I picked up on it right away, of course. My husband, Danny, thought I was being dramatic, which to be fair is the default setting. But I knew there was something off with that guy.”
“Off how?” Nick worked his knife through the mushrooms.
“Entitled laziness. The guy couldn’t be bothered to put out his own trash cans. They’d just sit there overflowing until one of us took them to the curb. And there they’d sit for days until one of us dragged them back. He never once shoveled his own walk. And when he moved in and Danny and I took him our usual welcome package, he didn’t even say thank youorreturn the container from the lemon bars. I told Danny that’s the kind of guy who loses a woman because he’s too lazy to make an effort.”
“Interesting,” Nick mused.
Alistair placed two glass bowls next to him and pointed at the peppers and mushrooms. “He’s the kind of guy who just wanted to do his thing with the least amount of effort possible. I made a few helpful overtures, but he wasn’t interested in self-improvement. He just wanted to eat his takeout and watch TV.”
“Do you remember when you saw him last?” Nick asked, scooping the mushrooms and peppers into the matching bowls, feeling like a contestant on a cooking show.
Alistair gazed at the ceiling and stroked two fingers over his mustache. “It was a weekend. Ah! Yes!” He snapped his fingers. “Saturday a week ago. Danny and I were painting the door and trim, and Larry was headed out for a run. Which, knock me over with a feather that Mr. Lazy Ass took up jogging as a hobby. I think it had something to do with his cholesterol or blood pressure.”
“Did you see him come back from the run?”
Alistair squinted at the dollop of butter melting in the pan. “I don’t think so. My sweaty man radar is pretty finely tuned. I probably would have remembered.”
Nick felt a prickle of excitement. “That doorbell you have. How sensitive is the range?”
The man’s eyes lit up. “Very. Our daughter installed it. She’s a genius with technology. We haven’t figured out how to shorten the sensor’s range. We ended up turning off our notifications since the camera goes off every time someone walks or drives by. Hell, even Mr. Pickles sitting in the front window would set it off.”
Nick felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “When’s the last time you noticed Mr. Pickles in the window?”
“Oh, gosh. It’s been…” Alistair frowned. “Now that you mention it. I haven’t seen that cat all week. Which is odd because Mr. Pickles practically lives in that window.”
“Would you mind if I took a look at your doorbell footage?” Nick asked.
“Do you think we have the last known footage of a missing person?” Alistair sounded thrilled at the possibility.
“It’s possible.”
“Danny! Get down here!” Alistair yelled.
A moment later, footsteps thundered down the stairs. “What’s wrong? Did I get the wrong mushrooms? Do I have enough time to run out for the right ones?”
Danny was still buttoning a shirt when he hit the kitchen. His salt and pepper hair was mussed like he’d just gotten out of bed. He was barefoot and extremely tall.
“Did you seriously just wake up?” Alistair demanded, shoving a cup of coffee into his husband’s hands.
