“He’ll be pissed that Boy Wonder here had him on the rail, but he’ll calm down.”
“Then check in with me later so I know you’re okay.”
“Will do. Thanks.” The tall woman eyes Simon, walks past him for the stairs, heads down.
He’s just deflected a potentially nasty incident with an aggressive man, but neither of these women seems appreciative, or even relieved. This is confusing.
Simon looks back at the young woman. “I thought—”
“There was nothought, you didn’tthink, you just acted.” She has a faint accent, which becomes more pronounced when she’s clearly angry like this. She throws up her hands. “But it’s over now, it’s done, so thank you very much and goodbye.”
She pivots into the entrance of her apartment, collects a tote bag from a hook on the wall, and a beanie, which she tugs over her hair. Shouldering the tote bag, she backs out, pulls the door shut after herself.
For the first time, Simon sees a small blue card stuck with clear tape to one side of the door. The card readsN. Pace, Private Inquiries, and a phone number.
A few things are coming clearer now. “You’re a private investigator.”
“Yes. Congratulations for noticing.” She yanks her keys out of her jeans pocket, turns her back on him to lock up.
“That woman, Miss Solange, is your client.”
She glares over her shoulder. “Look, we don’t know each other—”
“We live in the same building.”
“And we still don’t know each other. Excuse me, I have to go.” She walks around him to the stairs.
Simon hesitates, but the wordsprivate investigatorare ringing in his head.
He’s spent six weeks trying to figure things out on his own, getting nowhere. Could the solution really be this simple?
It’s worth a try.
Chapter Two
September 1987, Friday
Simon catches up with the gruff young woman halfway down the staircase.
“Look, I apologize,” he says.
“Don’t follow me.” Her expression has moved from stern to stony. “Fine, you’ve apologized. Now you can leave.”
“I’m going out as well.” Simon thinks of a good excuse. He gestures toward the narrow front door as they reach the small lobby area. “And I don’t want to let you walk out there on your own, in case that loud guy is still around.”
The young woman stops, blocking the door to face him, high spots of red on her cheeks. She has dark-brown eyes, glossy and sharp, like a little carnivore. “Oh, so you want to protect me from a situationyoucaused. Very chivalrous.”
“I didn’t mean to—” Maybe she is too canny for excuses. He needs to reassess. “Look, I’m sorry. Can we please start over? I’m Simon Noone. I live almost directly above you.”
He sticks out his hand. She glares at it. But then she unclenches her jaw, takes his hand and shakes.
“Nomi Pace.” She’s still very stiff cheeked. “I’m sorry if my client’s associate disrupted your activities. I’ll ensure there’s no more disturbances.”
Professionalism restored, Nomi Pace turns and walks outside.
“Great.” Simon follows the clip of her boots out the door, down the concrete steps. It’s a nice afternoon, and surprisingly warm. He tugs his sunglasses out of his hair and slides them on. “I’d like to go back to the part about you being a private investigator.”
Nomi sighs. “You and every other person I meet.”
