Two hours later, the partners pulled into the parking lot of an apartment complex on the northside of Sausalito; the quaint building on Napa Street overlooking the nearby marina and bay from almost every single unit.
"I wonder what the rent is like in a place like this…", Steve mumbled as they left the confines of the Galaxie behind, grateful to see the sun peeking through the dense clouds for once.
"Probably more than you and I make in a year…"
With a warm smile, Mike circled the hood of the tan sedan to join his partner by the front door, where he scanned the list of names next to the bell panel for that of their person of interest.
Once the young Inspector found Seavers' name, he pushed the button several times, each of his attempts in vain.
"Well Smiley, looks like he's not home right now and doesn't have anybody living with him…"
"At least I am fairly sure I know where his leg currently resides…", Steve countered flippantly, ready to push some of the other door bells to gain access, when somebody up above called them out.
"Excuse me, are you two gentlemen from the Publishers' Clearing House?"
An older lady leaned against the railing of her balcony on the first floor, cradling a small poodle in her arms, her hair tied up in brightly colored rolls as it dried, the long purple bathrobe sticking out against the light gray stucco of the building.
Sharing a brief smile with his partner, Mike shook his head and reached into his coat pocket to retrieve his badge, then flashed it at the lady.
"I am afraid not. We're with San Francisco Police. What's your name, Ma'am?"
"Oh…my…", the lady breathed, then whispered something in her dog's ear, before clearing her throat again, "Hoskins. My name is Elmira Hoskins. And who…who are you gentlemen here to see?"
Smiling again at the usual nosiness of the elderly, Mike pointed his chin at an apartment on the second level, where he presumed their person of interest was living.
"We're here to talk to a Winston Seavers. Have you seen him recently…Misses Hoskins?"
"Oh, you're here to see Winston, I see…", she repeated, then put her free hand on her hips as if it would help her think, "To be honest with you, I haven't seen him in quite a long time. Three…maybe four weeks perhaps? Is…is everything alright?"
"That's what we're trying to find out, Misses Hoskins.", Mike reassured, then reached for a warrant they'd requested from the DA's Office before leaving town, "Do you happen to know of anybody who could let us into his apartment? It might help us figure out what happened to him."
"I see…", she answered deep in thought, then put her dog back onto the ground, "Let me come down and open the front door. Then we can go and find Mister Horowitz. He's the ehm…the apartment manager. He will have the keys. Maybe by then the gentlemen from the Publisher's Clearing House will be here too."