2. Renee
RENEE
“Andrew?”
The woman on the other side of the door wrinkles her nose at me in abject disdain, clearly baffled as to why I am standing in front of her right now asking questions she doesn’t know the answer to.
“Andrew Ennis,” I explain, tapping my finger on the employee records I managed to dig out from my grandfather’s old collection. “This is the last place he was listed as living. Is he still staying here, or...?”
“Not for a long time,” she snaps back. “And I hope I never see that good-for-nothing again. Don’t come here again asking about him, you hear?”
And, with that, the door slams in my face. I close my eyes, run a hand through my hair, and pull the pen from behind my ear to strike him off the list. Another one who seems to have vanished off the face of the earth.
I’m starting to run out of names to consult on where the heck that wardrobe might have come from.
I turn on my heel and head back to the car. As I climb back in, I rest my head on the wheel for a moment, trying to pull myself together. There must be something that I am missing here, some detail I can use to string this thing together, I just can’t seem to find it.
I jump when I hear someone tapping on the window, and my head whips up. I find a man standing above me, brow furrowed, and he gestures at me to roll down the window.
I hesitate for a moment, but then do as I am told, figuring that he might have something useful. Given how useless my search has been so far, I will take whatever I can get.
“Hey,” I say. “Sorry, am I parked in your way or something? I was just about to head off, so I don’t have to?—”
“Were you asking about Andrew Ennis?”
I blink, staring at him for a moment, before I respond.
“Uh… yeah, I was,” I reply. “Do you know him?”
He crosses his arms over his chest.
“I am him.”
My eyebrows shoot up, and I scrabble to gather my grandfather’s notes again, double-checking to make sure that I have got the name right.
“Wait,” I mutter, as I climb out of the car, frowning down at the page before me. “But I just checked the last address on file for you, and?—”
“Yeah, you must have run into my old landlady,” he replies. “She doesn’t have much nice to say about me. Can’t say I blame her.”
“She kicked you out?”
“You could say that, sure. I just came by to pick up some of my stuff.”
“Oh, right, okay,” I reply, trying my best to keep up. “Uh, so do you have a minute? I was hoping I could ask you about some work that you did for my grandfather a few years back.”
He lets out a slight whistle through his teeth, crossing his arms over his chest. Though he is dressed casually, a gray tee, dark jeans, there is something commanding about his presence.
Might be his muscles, might be the tattoos that I can see peeping out from beneath the fabric, might be those sharp gray eyes that glinted to match the salt-and-pepper smatters in his brown hair.
Whatever it is, though, I know that I can’t let it distract me, this is the closest thing I’ve had to a lead since I started looking into this whole thing, and I am not going to get thrown off the case now.
“Damn, must have been a good while ago,” he remarks, pushing a hand through his hair. “I just got out of prison. How long ago we talking here?”
“Prison?”
I can’t contain my surprise, and he cocks an eyebrow slightly, clearly amused by my response.
“Yeah. So, when was this job, exactly?”
“Um,” I blurt out, and I root through my papers, trying to remind myself of the exact date. “Nine years ago? You helped him move a wardrobe, would have been to his antique store in the East end. Ring any bells?”
He taps his finger against his bottom lip, brow furrowed, as though casting his mind back as best he can.
“Folsom Antiques?”
“That’s the one!” I exclaim, a sudden rush of excitement coursing through me as I realize that I might actually be on to something here. I scramble to pull out a picture of the wardrobe, holding it up in front of him. “And this, do you recognize it?”
He squints at it for a second, then nods slowly.
“I do,” he replies. “Drove out someplace to pick it up for him, way outside the city.”
“Do you remember where?”
I know I must be coming on a little strong, practically leaping at him to fill me in on everything he knows. He pulls back slightly, looking me up and down.
“Why are you so interested?”
All at once, he sounds a little defensive, like he might have shared too much or gone too far. I take a deep breath, slipping the papers back into the car behind me and running a hand through my hair.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize. “I don’t mean to just come out here and interrogate you like this. I was just hoping you might be able to help me figure out something that I found in the wardrobe after my grandfather passed.”
As soon as those words come out of my mouth, his brows knit slightly, clearly thrown.
“He passed?”
I nod.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he murmurs, and his demeanor shifts in a matter of seconds. “What did you say you were looking for, again?”
I press my lips together, suddenly distinctly aware that we are standing here in the middle of the parking lot next to the old trailers that he clearly used to call home. I don’t want to have this conversation out here in the open, not if I can avoid it.
“How about we get a drink or something, and I can fill you in?” I suggest. His eyebrow cocks slightly, the flicker of a smile passing over his lips.
“You asking me out for a drink?”
“Just to talk about this,” I reply, laughing. But I can’t ignore the little flutter in my chest at the implication, even though there is no way in hell I am going to admit that to him.
“Right,” he replies. “Well, there’s a bar not far from here, Collins, they do some pretty cheap beer, if that’s your kind of thing.”
“Perfect,” I agree. “You want to head there now?”
“Damn, you really are in a rush with this, huh?” he teases, lifting his chin slightly to survey me.
“No time to waste,” I reply, and I turn to look down the street. “So, where is this place, exactly?”
And, as I follow his gaze, I can’t help but notice the tattoo on the side of his neck; a rose, which stretches its petals upward, as though blooming towards the sun. It almost looks out of place on a man like him, but then, I get the feeling there is more to him that meets the eye.
And I plan to figure out exactly what that might be.