dose of caffeine for the second morning in a row.
Seth, on the other hand, was full of piss and vinegar and some neon puce colored drink that came in an industrial can. I didn’t know the name of it, because I couldn’t bear to watch.
“Coffee tastes like dirt,” he said. “And it stinks after about the first fifteen minutes.”
“It is a necessary part of life, and if you don’t shut up, I’m going to kick you out of the car and run over you. Repeatedly.”
Seth chuckled. “I said I would buy you a cup somewhere, just find a place and pull over.”
“I know where I’m going. I refuse to drink convenience store coffee after the lousy night of sleep I just had.”
* * * *
The apartment turned out to be a sweet deal, and I snapped it up. We signed the papers on the spot. Calling the First Street neighborhood a “commercial area” was a bit of a stretch. There was a plumbing outfit, the back side of a mini golf course, and the CVS at the end of the block. Everything else was apartments.
Adele’s building was a plain, two-story block with a ground floor storefront and a big, faded sign over the door that read Triggs Hardware. The layers of dust on the plate glass windows suggested it had been closed for years, and from what I saw through them, it appeared the space was being used for storage now. The apartments, entryway and stairs were all clean and relatively well cared for.
It took a little charm, but I convinced them to let me move in right away. I used the same charm to get Seth to spend the day helping me haul furniture. I also used a lot of beer. Much as I enjoyed his company, I needed to be back in my own space as soon as possible, and I pushed to get as much done as we could in one shot.
Seth caught his end of the mattress as I slid it out of the truck, and we headed for the entryway. “You are a very surly man when you’re on a mission,” he said. “It’s not at all attractive.”
“I’ll buy you dinner after we’re done with this, how’s that?”
“You have to buy me beer too.”
“I already bought you beer.”
“Yeah, but we’re nearly out of that beer, and I’m going to need more beer later.”
“Fine, I’ll buy you dinner and beer.”
“Next you’ll be expecting me to put out.”
Adele chose that moment to come into the hall, carrying a big, vinyl purse and a shopping bag. We were halfway up the stairs with the mattress, and she stopped and stared at us through huge, black sunglasses.
“Ah. Good evening, ma’am,” I said, nodding to her. Seth grinned at me with the smug expression of someone who’s not dealing with his own landlord.
“You can drop all that ma’am bullshit. Adele is fine. I thought Ruth said you weren’t moving in until tomorrow.” She had a sour expression that made me feel like a roach she’d discovered in her kitchen.
“Well yes, ma—Adele, she did say that, but you see there were extenuating circumstances, and when I explained them to Ruth she told me I could move in right away.”
“What kind of circumstances?” she asked, all gravel.
“My friend is a pig.”
Seth huffed in protest. “I’m not a pig, I just have a messy house.”
“Your furniture has its own ecosystem.”
“My furniture’s fine, you’re just a candy assed prima donna.” He shoved on his end of the mattress and nearly plowed me over.
Adele shook her head. “I think this is where I came in,” she said and headed down the hallway. “You won’t be moving furniture around at all hours of the night, will you?”
“We’re just going to do one more load this evening and get the bed set up. We won’t be any trouble at all,” I assured her.
“All right then, good night,” she said, and left.
I scrambled the rest of the way up the stairs as Seth continued to mow me down.
An hour later I had my dining table and chairs set up by the kitchenette, and Seth was in the other room putting together my bed for me. He was clearly going for lobster and prime rib on my dime.
Chapter 3
The next morning I woke up and sighed with satisfaction. My back didn’t hurt, my pillow smelled fresh and clean, and I wasn’t itching any place suspicious. There are very few things as good in life as sleeping in your own bed, and I liked mine so much at that moment I rolled over and didn’t get out of it until ten thirty.
That right there is one of the big reasons I decided to become a private eye. I don’t like other people telling me what to do and when to do it. I’d much rather take care of business on my own schedule. If I want to sleep in, I sleep in, and if I want to work all night, then I work all night. This is also why I don’t have roommates to speak of. Lovers can be as bad or worse than bosses, and I tend to like them better at a distance. Once in a while one captures my attention and I’m willing to be amused for a bit, but I meant it when I told Seth I’m selective. I haven’t had a lot of success in the relationship department, and there aren’t many people in the world I want to spend that much time with anyway.
Seth, on the other hand, treats sex and dating like one big party, and everyone’s invited. He’s deeply appalled by my loner lifestyle and is forever trying to set me up with people, both male and female. Because in his book, you never limit your options. For all I know, he’s got the right idea. I’ve been attracted to a guy or two in my time, but never did anything about it.
When I’d finally had my fill of clean sheets and a soft mattress, I got out of bed and stretched luxuriously. I dug around in a box in the corner until I found a couple good CDs and took my player into the bathroom, where I cranked up Elvis and took a long, hot shower. That, too, was like heaven after Seth’s place where I think new forms of life were breeding. Next time I use his bathroom, I’m wearing a Hazmat suit.
After a fairly obscene amount of time, even by my standards, I finally turned off the water and scrubbed myself dry with a towel—also clean, fluffy, and fresh smelling. Maybe I should have Seth stay at my place for a couple of days and see if he doesn’t develop a yen for clean living himself.
The last thing missing from my perfect morning was hot brew. I wrapped the towel around my waist and went out to the kitchen, grooving to Heartbreak Hotel. I ground up coffee beans and measured them into the basket of the coffee maker, filled it with water, and switched it on.
I was about to go get dressed when there was a knock at my front door. Seth had left a doggie bag in my car with a hunk of prime rib, a few stuffed shrimp, and a pile of dinner rolls, and I figured he was back to get it. God forbid he should starve.
“Anything you leave in my car is fair game,” I chided as I yanked the door open.
“Is that so?” said a regal looking dame with a slow Southern drawl. “In that case, you’re
