Chapter twenty: One final visit
9:42 p.m.
Douglas woke up, laying on the couch. He blinked. He'd dozed off while waiting for Golden to contact him again.
He glanced to the table beside him. The glass teacup he'd set there had all but stopped steaming.
Slowly he sat up and took the cup in his hands. A sip told him he hadn't been asleep for too long.
He glanced around the room but found nothing out of the ordinary. His parttime roommate didn't seem to have left him any messages. He'd been waiting all day for her to speak up, but his head had been depressingly quiet all the way through. He hadn't been able to bring himself to do anything else.
He sighed, leaning back down. The day was approaching its end.
He set his cup down and rose to his feet, ignoring his body's protests against the increase in activity.
Paul remained in his unmoving car for what felt like an eternity, continuously running his fingers over his gun. He glanced at the apartment building beside him through his window, darkened by the evening clouds. This was risky. Especially if his gamble paid off.
Finally he stepped out of the car, glancing at a small group of people who passed by. They talked and chuckled amongst themselves, oblivious to what was about to happen in the building beside them.
As calmly as he could, Paul made his way to the front door.
He stopped. He couldn't ring Douglas' doorbell; the former guard would never let him in.
His hand went to another button. Maya Matthews, number 7. He pressed it.
"Hello?" a voice said through the intercom.
"Ms. Matthews?" Paul said, using his professional voice. "My name is Paul Mortar, I'm a PI. Could I have a word with you, please?"
"What?" she responded, sounding tired. "What's going on?"
"I'll explain once inside."
A brief pause. Then a sigh. "Fine… I'm coming down there. You better have some ID ready."
Douglas halfheartedly wiped a rag over his kitchen counter, then his dining table and chairs. He cleaned a few plates and cups in the sink. Silence remained.
He took a few minutes to do further cleaning, but found himself distracted from his work. He went to make his bed, then took a shower. Silence remained.
He made himself some tea. A glance at the clock told him that barely 15 minutes had passed.
Silence remained.
He sighed deeply, warming his hands on his glass cup, staring at the kitchen counter across the room. He wasn't going to hear from Golden today, was he? He'd have to wait until tomorrow. Funny; there was a time when he was accustomed to loneliness.
His eye found a book lying on his coffee table. It had been there for a few days, but he hadn't given it much thought with the Mortar issue going on.
He leaned forward and picked it up. Immune: A Journey Into The Mysterious System That Keeps You Alive.
He ran a hand over the colorful front page.
Despite himself, he felt a slight smile tugging at his lips. Well, he was about to go back to college. If ever there was a time to start reading…
Losing Ms. Matthews' attention wasn't difficult. After flashing his ID and making some excuse that the real suspect couldn't be alerted to his presence—which wasn't entirely incorrect—Paul found himself ascending the stairs alone. Matthews had gone back to her own apartment room.
Paul passed through the stairwell slowly, listening closely, keeping his eyes on everything around him. If it so happened that Douglas decided to take a walk, chances were they'd bump into each other.
Thankfully, the stairwell remained practically empty. Paul headed to the right level, where he stepped out into a corridor.
He crept through the hallway, checking the numbers on the doors he passed.
Finally he reached Douglas' apartment. He glanced around one more time to ensure he was alone.
With one hand, he reached for his gun.
He raised the other to knock.