It took fifteen minutes to get there, and he searched through each of the floors but found nothing suspicious in the hallways. He didn’t accidentally trip over any people of interest inside either. He may have had access to the names of the apartment renters, but these people who Baylor passed inside the building could be any of the residents, or it could be none of them. He had his phone though, with the Russian guy’s photo. As he came upon one middle-aged woman with a couple smaller children, he stopped and asked her if she knew the man in this photo.
She looked at the man’s photo, and he saw the terror in her eyes. She pulled her children back, shaking her head, and in broken English said, “I don’t know anything.”
“I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I don’t mean to scare you, but he’s wanted for questioning.”
She immediately stepped farther back again.
“Have you seen him here?”
She shook her head. But one of the children, a boy, who looked like he was seven or eight years old, nodded. “He comes and visits that woman.”
“What woman?” Baylor asked, smiling at him. “Do you know where the woman lives?”
“At the far end,” he said, pointing backward.
“How far back?”
“The last one.”
The mother said something to him, speaking sharply.
The boy turned and looked at her. “He’s a bad man, Mom.” She just nodded but pulled her son closer.
Baylor smiled, thanked them, and quickly walked down the hallway. He gave them a wide berth to help lessen the fear he could still see in the woman’s eyes. He looked at the little boy as he walked past and said, “Thank you very much.”
The little boy just nodded, and, as Baylor walked farther down the hallway, the boy called out, “It’d be good if he didn’t come home anymore.”
At that, Baylor turned and looked at him. “Why?”
“He scares everyone. He makes threats. He’s a bully. And bullies shouldn’t be allowed.”
“You’re right,” he said. “Let me see if I can talk to him.”
“Do you think he’ll stop?” the little boy asked hopefully.
Baylor shook his head. “I wouldn’t count on it. Bullies do what they do because they can. It takes a lot to stop them.”
At that, the mother pulled the little boy away.
Baylor walked to the apartment in question and knocked. He got no answer, and he heard no sounds from within. Looking around, he saw nobody watching and no cameras on that floor, so he pulled a tool from his pocket and quickly picked the lock. It was a small standard apartment with a couch, a single chair, and a TV. It was neat, not upscale, and fairly plain. He did a quick search and found only women’s clothing in the closet.
With a frown, he checked the fridge and found the bottom half full of beer. There was a chance it was hers, but there was also another chance that it was for her male partner. After finding nothing of importance, he stepped out and checked the apartment across the hall. That one was a little more interesting, but he couldn’t be sure which one was more likely to lead Baylor to his Russian mystery guy. Then Baylor heard voices. Frowning at that, he came up to the front door and waited.
“I don’t care what you mean,” she said. “I’ve told you before, the answer is no.”
Baylor couldn’t hear what the man said, but an argument was about to ensue as they stepped inside the apartment, shutting their door, while Baylor quickly slipped out of the opposite apartment. He waited outside in the hallway, hoping they would say something more. But there didn’t appear to be any more discussion. Frowning and frustrated because he didn’t have anything concrete to go on, he looked back at the one apartment he had just exited, wondering if he should go back in for another look.
Just then, a man walked down the hallway from the far side.
This was the guy arguing with our money man on the street. Interesting.
He continued to walk forward, as if he’d just come out an apartment. The guy glared at Baylor, but he just glared back. “What are you doing here?” the man asked.
“What do you mean?” Baylor said. “I was just visiting her.” At that, the guy rolled his eyes. “You let him find out about that, and you’ll be dead meat.”
“Maybe,” he said, “but he doesn’t scare me.”
“He should.”
Baylor shrugged and kept on walking. When he got to the stairs, he turned to find the guy still standing there, staring at him. He gave him a look and a hand wave. Stepping around the corner of the stairs, he waited a few minutes and then peeked. The guy had walked down to the apartment Baylor had just exited, where he stood in front of the door. He knocked, meaning he didn’t even live there. There was no answer from inside.
And then he did exactly what Baylor had done. He pulled out a tool and picked the lock. He stepped inside, and that made Baylor wonder what the hell was going on. Maybe they were coworkers. With that thought uppermost in his mind, he sent several texts back to Hudson and started toward the building where the Russian guy had disappeared the second time on the cameras. No way to know what he’d done or where he’d gone from there.
After this fateful meetup with the unhappy man arguing with Money Man, it was more important than ever to figure out who the players were here. Baylor walked another few blocks, and, as he arrived at the next location, he sent a message to Hudson, letting him know where he was. He walked around the block, looking for options. He took several photographs and found a
