“Mama, I want cupcake,” she screeches when Melaniehurries towards them to stop a possible fight.
“I brought more,” I announce before the situation escalates.
“Only one before dinner,” Melanie chides. The girl happily takes one and goes to the corner of the room, where her toys are scattered everywhere. She plops down and drops the cupcake. She’s bawling before it hits the floor.
Melanie quickly hands her another. Disaster averted.
Yeah, no kids right away is sound advice.
“It was so nice of you boys to bring this over.” Melanie walks to the stove and starts stirring a pot of something. I couldn't guess what it is from the smell if my life depended on it.
We take this as an invitation to park our asses on the kitchen stools. I’m still a little dazed by the high-stress situation.
“So, how long have you been living in the building?” Matt asks, finally getting his voice back.
“Almost five years now. You've been here longer, haven't you?”
He nods. “Yeah, almost seven years.”
“And we’ve never talked,” she says, seeming genuinely surprised. “I’ve only ever heard about your existence from all of Ollie’s complaints—”
“So many residents here. So difficult to know everyone,” I interrupt. “Like, I was just telling Matt, I’ve never once interacted with the man who lives across from you! Dalton, was it?” I cut to the chase. It’s my responsibility as the lead on the case. Matt has clearly taken being secondary to heart. I ignore his confused look while I’m ahead.
Melanie freezes for a millisecond before going back to stirring.
“I ran into him a couple of times, but he wouldn’t even look at me,” I stress.
Matt leans forward, resting his elbows on the kitchen counter. “I heard he did a lot of D R U G S,” he says conspiratorily.
“I can spell drugs,” the seven-year-old shouts from the couch.
“Sorry,” Matt mouths to Melanie apologetically.
She waves him off. “Do you think he took drugs?” she asks, tilting her head.
“The few times that I ran into him, he looked out of it,” Matt replies confidently.
“You know that would explain a lot. The guy was so rude to my kids. Now that you say that, it's a good thing he didn't like them,” she frowns, adding some spice from a steel container to the brown sludge on the stove.
I suddenly realize I’ve lost control of the conversation. “So did you ever talk to the guy?”
“Not really. He moved in around two years ago. One time, Benny asked him to play. He lost his shit and chased him away. Benny was scared to even step into the hallway for an entire week. After that, I avoided the guy like the plague. Didn't let my kids go anywhere near that door,” she says, her eyes narrowing. “Or his visitors,” she adds.
“Did he have a lot of visitors?” Maybe he’s living with one of them right now.
“Probably other people he did drugs with,” Matt adds sagely.
Melanie perks up at his enthusiasm for gossip. “Maybe. I didn’t see them a lot. A couple of people visited him often. I avoided all of them. But, if you're talking about characters in thebuilding, it's Marge you should worry about.” She gestures vaguely in the direction of Marge’s apartment.
“Is she not home?” I ask. Might as well get something useful out of this.
“Nah, I think she went to visit her daughter for Christmas.” She switches off the stove. “You boys have dinner yet?”
I watch the smoke rising out of the pot. “We just ate,” I say, just as Matt says, “We have a reservation.”
I look at him with pity. God, he’s a horrible liar.
“Mmmhmm. Maybe you should go to your reservation, then,” she sniffs.
