Chapter 7 Arabelle #2
I sigh, rubbing my forehead. “Mrs. O’Donnell, I don’t know how many times I have to say this, but I don’t have a boyfriend. I promise you no one has a key to my apartment.”
She huffs. “I know what I saw, Arabelle. There’s a man coming in and out of your apartment. He’s been doing it for a while now. And after all the times I’ve told you about it, you’ve still done nothing about it.”
“That’s not possible, Mrs. O’Donnell, because I don’t have a boyfriend. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go.”
I don’t have time to deal with this nonsense. I don’t have a boyfriend, and no one is coming in and out of my apartment.
I would know.
“If you’re not going to abide by the rules, Arabelle, I’ll just let the office manager handle it.”
“You do whatever you need to do, Mrs. O’Donnell.” I dismiss her threat because I have nothing to hide. “Try to have a nice day.”
As I unlock my door and push it open, she huffs once more, muttering something under her breath, before her door slams shut.
Once inside, I lock the door and drop my keys into the bowl on the table.
For a long time, Mrs. O’Donnell has claimed that I have had some man sneaking in and out of my apartment, and I have no idea who she’s talking about.
I have no boyfriend. Hell, I don’t have any friends besides Dale, and he doesn’t have a key.
“She’s crazy, or maybe she has some type of dementia,” I mumble as I make my way to my bedroom. “Or she’s just lonely and needs someone to talk to. I know how that feels.”
I enter my bedroom, drop my duffel bag at the foot of my bed, and then make my way to the bathroom. In less than fifteen minutes, I’m in and out of the shower, feeling refreshed and ready to take a quick nap so I can finish the rest of my day.
I wrap myself in a towel, walk out of my bathroom, and stop dead in my tracks as soon as I see it perfectly placed on my pillow. A single long-stem red rose along with an envelope.
“What in the hell?”
How did I not see it? Or did he put it in here when I was in the shower?
I slowly walk to the bed, grab the black envelope, and remove the card with shaky hands.
I furrow my brows. I’ve been able to deal with the flowers and cards being left at the theater, outside my hotel room, and even at my apartment door in New York.
The attention is flattering. But this is something different. He’s been inside my apartment.
From the shadows, I’ve watched, but in the shadows, I can no longer remain because of the desires of my heart.
I drop the envelope and rush back down the hallway toward my door, not caring that I’m wrapped in nothing but a towel.
I fling the door open, rush across the hallway to Mrs. O’Donnell’s apartment, and knock on her door.
When she doesn’t answer, I knock a few more times, a little louder, just in case she can’t hear.
The door slowly opens. “Arabelle?” She looks me up and down with her eyes as wide as saucers, but then they narrow. “Why are you in nothing but a towel, child?”
She looks down both sides of the hallway, I assume, to see if anyone else has seen me standing basically naked in front of her apartment door.
“Mrs. O’Donnell, can you please tell me what the man looks like you think you’ve seen come in and out of my apartment?” I ask, ignoring her question about my towel.
She huffs. “He’s your boyfriend, Arabelle. Shouldn’t you know what he looks like? Unless you have more than one?”
She gives me a look full of judgment and disdain.
How many times do I have to tell her I don’t have a boyfriend? And I definitely don’t have more than one.
“Please, Mrs. O’Donnell, this is important,” I plead, attempting to hide my annoyance. I have to remind myself of her age and that I need her help. There’s no point in pissing her off just so she’ll slam the door in my face. “What does the man look like that you think you saw?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Tall. Dresses very well. Other than that, I can’t tell you anything because I can’t see that well anymore. And he always has his head turned anyway from the door. So, I can never see his face.”
He’s intentionally hiding his face from her. He must know how nosy she is.
“And you’re sure he’s going inside my apartment?”
She sighs, rolling her eyes, her annoyance very clear on her aged face. “Arabelle, I watch that man every time he comes here. He unlocks the door with his key and walks right inside.”
I don’t correct her about him having a key. Nobody has a key but me.
“And today was the last day that you saw him?”
“Yes, Arabelle. He left a few minutes before you came home today. Is that all?” she asks with a sigh. “It’s almost time for my shows to come on, and I don’t want to miss them.”
Thank God he left before I got here.
“Yes, that’s all. Thank you again, Mrs. O’Donnell.”
She says nothing else and closes the door in my face.
I walk back across the hall to my apartment and immediately call the front desk.
All visitors are required to sign in with the front desk attendants.
It’s why I picked this place. There are security protocols, along with a doorman, which right now are shit.
“Front desk, this is Nathan speaking.”
“Yes, Nathan. This is Arabelle Williamson in apartment 432. Have I had any guests sign in today?”
“Give me one second, Ms. Williamson, to check.”
I can’t believe someone has been inside my apartment.
“Our records show no one has signed in. Is there a problem?”
“Yes.” I run my hands through my hair in frustration. “I believe someone’s been in my apartment.”
Silence filters through the line for a few minutes.
“Have you given a key to anyone, Ms. Williamson?” he asks. “You know it’s against complex policy for someone not on the lease to have keys to any of the apartments. That can be a reason for us to end your lease.”
“I’m well aware of the policy, Nathan. That’s why I haven’t given anyone any keys.”
“According to our records, we’ve also received a complaint from Mrs. O’Donnell, your neighbor, that you’ve had an unauthorized visitor who has a set of keys.”
“Well, Mrs. O’Donnell is old, and she has no idea what she’s talking about. No one has keys to my apartment but me. Has maintenance been scheduled to do any work?”
“No, ma’am. Not that I can see.”
“Okay.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I know it sounds crazy, but is there any way I can get my locks changed today?”
“I can put in the order today for maintenance to change the locks. But it will take twenty-four to forty-eight hours for the work to be done, and you will be billed for the lock changes.”
“The cost isn’t an issue.”
“Okay, then I will put in the order. The new keys will be up here at the desk for you to pick up when available.”
“That’s perfect.” I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Nathan.”
I finish the call and make my way to my bedroom to put on clothes. What do I need to do from here? If I call the cops, they’ll think I’m crazy. Someone has entered my apartment, and according to Mrs. O’Donnell, it has happened on multiple occasions.
“There’s no way I can stay here until the locks are changed. I need to find somewhere else to stay.”
“Breaking News…”
As I search for my clothes in the dresser, my gaze shifts to the television on the bedroom wall. There’s a reporter standing in front of the Peninsula Chicago, the hotel where I met Pierre.
Filled with anger and confusion, I sit on my bed, releasing a deep sigh.
The police believe that I’m the last person Pierre was seen with.
They grilled me for hours about him and our date.
I can’t recall anything after I had my second glass of wine, so I don’t know what happened to him.
Since he didn’t answer any of my calls, I suspect he’s the one who drugged me.
I only found out he was missing when two Chicago police detectives appeared at my door in New York.
I let them know I thought he drugged me, which led to more questions.
Authorities have located the body of Pierre Gaultier, a foreign exchange student who was last seen with Arabelle Williamson, a professional ballet dancer and the daughter of Williamson Holdings’ CEO, Arthur Williamson.
Three months ago, Pierre Gaultier, son of French Ambassador Jean Gaultier, disappeared without a trace.
Authorities questioned a witness who claimed to have seen Ms. Williamson, who they recognized from a magazine cover, and Mr. Gaultier leave The Black Star Bar and Grill together, where he was last seen.
The police have not named Ms. Williamson as a person of interest in his disappearance, but detectives say no one has been eliminated as a potential suspect in his disappearance and death.
At this time, the police have not disclosed the cause of death.
The family is offering a reward in the amount of $250,000 for any information leading to the capture of any individual involved in this case.
Don’t miss our exclusive interview with his father at six o’clock to hear his thoughts on his son and how the police investigation is progressing.
I turn off the TV and throw the remote onto the bed.
“We went on one date. Jesus Christ!” I run my hand down my face in frustration.
I ignore the sound of my cell phone ringing and groan. I know who it is before I even look at the caller ID. My dad will want to know why I didn’t tell him about this, but not because whatever happened to me that night matters. Because now, his name is in the news and linked to someone’s death.
I don’t want to talk to anyone, especially him. Pierre is dead, and I have absolutely nothing to do with it because he drugged me.