Archangel's Shadows (Guild Hunter #7)(81)

“I do not have high hopes of anyone actually being in the office,” Janvier said, “but the world is full of surprises.”

“Most of them bloody and nasty and deadly.” Walking with him down the narrow corridor, Ashwini took the dimly lit stairs down to a basement level. In front of her was a closed door plastered with advertising flyers, neighborhood promos by people struggling to create a sense of community in this hopeless place, and small posters asking for help in finding lost pets. Raising her hand, she rapped on the door with her knuckles.

To her astonishment, it opened almost immediately to reveal a big, bearded guy with skin so sallow it was clear soaking up the sun wasn’t his favorite pastime.

“Yeah?” He scowled before Ashwini could identify herself and spoke again. “You’re a hunter. Which schmuck vamp is hiding out here?”

Perceptive, she thought. He might actually be of some help. “No vamp,” she said, “but we have questions about a former tenant.”

The man, who appeared to be in his early thirties, scratched his belly, the size of it hinting at a love of beer and fast food. “Right. Come in.” Backing away from the door, he waved them into an office that held a television set currently showing a rerun of a crime show, a sagging sofa with denim upholstery, a desk buried under paper, and several rickety chairs.

He switched off the TV and said, “You want to sit?”

Not sure the chairs would hold, Ashwini shook her head. “You’re the super?” she asked to make certain—for all she knew, he could be the owner.

Reaching up, he scratched his jaw this time, the frizzy black curls of his beard rasping against his skin. “Ah, yep, had the gig going on ten years now,” he said. “Name’s Seth. I’m a student—on my second doctorate, so this job’s great, especially since it comes with a room out back.” He made a face. “I do what I can, fix what I can, but the owners don’t give me much money, so I have to let the inessential stuff—like the endless f*cking graffiti—go.” Rubbing his hands over his face, he blew out a breath. “But you didn’t come here to listen to me moan. Who’s the tenant?”

“Felicity Johnson.”

His animated face froze, then crumpled noticeably. “Aw, damn, something happened to her, didn’t it? I knew she’d never leave Taffy like that.”

“I’m afraid she was murdered.” Ashwini watched him for any signs of possible guilt as she delivered the news, saw only pain.

“Who’d do that?” A bewildered question. “She was no threat to anyone.”

“You remember her,” Janvier said, leaning against the door he’d closed.

“Yeah, she was sweet. Real nice.” His sallow face even more pale and his previously steady body swaying a fraction, he took a seat behind his desk. “You sure it’s her?”

“We haven’t yet been able to run DNA or find a fingerprint match,” Ashwini said more gently than she might have before witnessing his reaction, “but yes, we believe it’s her.” It was too much to hope that Felicity’s room remained untenanted, but if Seth had kept her tenancy application, then fingerprints might be a possibility.

“Most tenants in a place like this,” the super said, staring at his overflowing desk, “they get so hard, so angry with life that they just want someone to blame—I’m an easy target. But Felicity isn’t . . . wasn’t like that.” A shaky smile. “When I fixed her door after it threatened to fall off its hinges, she baked me muffins. I never had fresh-baked muffins before.”

Another glimpse of who Felicity had been, another stab of fury at the person who’d ended the life of a woman with stars in her eyes. “Who’s Taffy?”

“Oh, Taffy . . . was her cat.”

Deciding to risk it, Ashwini flipped around one of the chairs and sat with her arms along the back. “How long ago did Felicity leave?”

“Well, ’bout eight months ago she started going away for a day or two. She asked me to check in on Taffy, that’s how come I know.”

That fit with Sina’s account of when Felicity had met her mysterious rich boyfriend. “Go on.”

“Then she started staying away for longer and longer.” He swallowed, his voice hoarse. “I figured she’d give up her lease, but she didn’t, popped in and out until about six months ago.”

One more month, we’re closer by one more month, Ashwini thought on a fierce wave of exultation, but didn’t interrupt the desolate man.

“The last couple of times I saw her, maybe two weeks apart,” Seth said, his eyes bleak, “she didn’t look so good. See, the thing with Felicity was, no matter how bad it got, no matter how low she was on funds—” He broke off, started again. “I cut her a bit of slack now and then. Gave her a little extra time to get the rent to me; I knew she’d be good for it.”

He shook his head. “Anyway, the thing was, she was always happy, you know? Like a bunny or something. All peppy and shit.” His shoulders began to shake, sudden tears rolling down his face. His sobs were loud, harsh, and real, a dam that had burst without warning.

Janvier ran his hand over her hair before she could reach out to the distraught man, then moved past her to squeeze Seth’s shoulder. He returned to his previous position only when the other man began to calm.