But they took him up on it, came inside, and looked around.
“You live here alone?” number two asked.
“Yes.”
“What’s that?” Number one pointed to the manuscript.
“First novel.”
“You’re a writer?”
Grimacing, Drex said, “Not according to the heap of rejection letters.”
Number one chuckled. Number two asked, “Do you know the people in the house across the way?”
“The Fords? Sure. We’ve hung out.”
“Their security alarm went off.”
Feigning puzzlement, Drex looked toward the house. “I didn’t hear it. When was this?”
“Twenty minutes ago, give or take,” officer number one told him. “Siren didn’t sound. It cut off with the warning beeps. But Mr. Ford has an app on his phone that signals him when the alarm is activated. Since nobody was authorized to go in, like a cleaning lady or something, he called us.”
Drex nodded understanding but held his tongue.
Number two asked, “Have you seen anybody around the neighborhood who looks like they don’t belong?”
“Besides me?” Number one thought that was funny, too. Number two, not so much. Good cop/bad cop. Drex turned serious. “I haven’t seen hide nor hair of anybody, and I’ve been here all day. Well, except for a few minutes early this morning. I went out for milk. What did he take?”
“Who?”
“The burglar.”
“Nothing, looks like. No sign of a break-in.”
“Huh. Wonder what set off the alarm. Or maybe that app on Jasper’s phone is faulty.”
“Could be. Because the alarm reset itself.”
Drex rolled his eyes. “Technology, right?”
The two young officers looked at each other and seemed to come to the tacit conclusion that he was harmless. Number two said, “If you see or hear anything peculiar, please notify the department.”
“Sure thing.”
Number one wished him good luck with his novel.
“Thanks. I need it.”
They thanked him for his time, said their good nights, and trooped down the stairs. A minute later, they backed out of the Fords’ driveway and were on their way.
Drex drained the bottle of beer, then picked up his windbreaker from off the chair and fished his cell phone from the pocket.
Gif was beside himself. “I’ve called you a dozen times.”
“I had company.” He told him about his visitors. “If they’d arrived sixty seconds sooner, they would have caught me beating my way back up here. If I’d made a run for it when I first heard their siren, they could have seen me fleeing. False alarm.”
“Close call. You need to get out of there. And I mean the apartment.”