She noted the door had serious security, unlike the standard she’d observed in the rest of the building.
She filed away his approximate height, weight, what he wore as she approached. “Excuse me, sir.”
He’d just opened the door, reached down for the bags. He straightened slowly, turned. She saw a beat of blank before his face transformed into polite curiosity.
“Officer. What can I do for you?”
“Are you the resident?”
“Yes, I am.” Now he beamed a smile. “Isaac McQueen.”
“Are you just getting home for the day, Mr. McQueen?”
“Actually, I ran out a short time ago to do some shopping.”
“Were you at home approximately two hours ago?”
“Yes, I was. Is there a problem?”
Something off, she thought, but didn’t know what or why. She kept her eyes level on his as she walked toward him.
“There was a mugging.”
Distress covered his face, but it seemed to her he slipped it on like a mask. “Is that what was going on? I saw the police around when I walked down to the market.”
“Yes, sir. Did you see or hear anything else?”
“Not that I can think of. I really should get these groceries put away.”
Something off, she thought again. Just . . . something. “I’d like to ask you some questions, just routine. May I come in?”
“Really, Officer . . .”
“Dallas.”
“Officer Dallas, I don’t see how I can help you.”
“I won’t take up much of your time now, and it’ll save you from another visit later so I can complete my report.”
“Fine. Anything to help the boys—and girls—in blue.” He stepped in, let her follow.
Big space, she thought, nicely furnished. Plenty of windows, all privacy screened. And the door to the left had a security lock and two hand bolts.
Yeah, something off.
“I need to get my fresh fruits and vegetables in the cooler,” he told her.
“No problem. This is a nice unit, Mr. McQueen.”
“I like it.” He carried his bags to the kitchen, began to unload.
“Do you live alone?”
“At the moment.”
“Employment?”
“Is that relevant?”