Symphony of Blood, A Hank Mondale Supernatural Case by Adam Pepper Page A

Doesn’t want to be bothered. Some nights they’d come in giggling, get on the elevator, and not even wait for the doors to close. I could hear the snorting noises. And if I looked up at the mirror, I could see right inside. I’m mean, have some courtesy and discretion for heaven’s sake.”
    “Sounds like those girls were a handful. Did you ever mention this to Mr. Leifson ?”
    “No. Not really.”
    “Have any detectives been out to speak to you?”
    “Yeah, one was here. We spoke briefly.”
    “What’d you tell him?”
    “I didn’t tell him much, but if he’d have asked my opinion, I would have given it to him.”
    “What is your opinion?”
    “Look,” he looked both ways again, suddenly self conscious . Then continued, “I may be wrong. I may be right. But if you ask me, Nicki’s probably just fine. Out partying is all.”
    “Out partying? She’s been missing a bit long for that, don’t you think?”
    “Maybe. You’re the cop, not me. But my guess is she’s off getting into trouble with that Mackenzie Blake. That’s my two cents. Take it for what it’s worth.”
    “Do you remember the last time you saw Nicki?”
    “Sure do. She was fighting with Mackenzie. Made a big scene right here in my lobby.”
    “What were they fighting over?”
    “Some boy. Bobby, I think his name was. He’d come here a few times. Good looking kid, I guess.”
    “A big fight over a boy. Then she goes missing. You didn’t give it much thought?”
    “Those girls fought all the time. Then I’d see them shortly after snug as two bedbugs kissin ’ and huggin ’. They’re a pair of drama queens.” He paused and thought for a second, then seemed to come to a realization. “In fact, Mackenzie came by later that day looking for Nicki to apologize. I’m sure they made up.”
    “But you haven’t seen Nicki since then?”
    “No. No one has.”
    “Did you happen to see any unusual people that day?” I asked.
    He picked up his cup and swirled the coffee around. “Not many unusual people come through this building.”
    “Maybe a vagrant?”
    He scratched his head and thought.
    “A bum, I mean.”
    “You know what? There was a bum that night. There really was.” Vic and I looked at one another as the doorman continued. “I remember it now perfectly. Just some homeless dude came to the door. He looked lost. I chased him off. It happens from time to time that I have to chase someone off, but it’s usually a salesman or something.”
    “If we send a sketch artist over here, can you give us a description?” Vic asked.
    “I suppose. I could try.”
    “Let me call in and see if we have someone available,” Vic said as he pulled out his phone.
    “While you’re at it…” I said, but Victor was a step ahead of me.
    “Yeah, I’ll make some calls and see if I can get an ID on this Bobby.”
    As Victor stepped outside to make his calls, I continued questioning the doorman. “Do you have a last name on Bobby? Maybe he can help us.”
    “No. The cops have probably questioned him by now. Nicki’s dad knew the guy. Like I said, he came around here a bunch of times. Mostly with Mackenzie, but sometimes by himself too. They were part of the same circle of friends.”
    “Okay. We’ll look into it.”
    I stepped outside and Victor was still on the phone. He put up one finger to tell me it would just be another minute. Then he hung up and walked over.
    “Johnny, Tate and the sketch artist are all headed down. They’ll be here in a few.”
    Victor had that look in his eyes. The look that basically reminded me that I wasn’t a cop.
    “Okay. I’ll walk down to Dempsey’s, have a drink.”
    “Thanks, Hank. I’ll stop by when we’re done. Get you up to speed on any new information I get.”
    “What about Singh? When you get that sketch you need to show him.”
    “You have his numbers, right?”
    I smiled.
    “Okay, Hank. You win. When I’m done we’ll ride up to the Bronx together and show Mr. Singh the