Page 23 of Lorenzo

The man nods slowly. “Right. I won’t pet him.”

“Thank you.”

He sets the tray on the edge of the desk. “I’m Harold, by the way.”

“We met.”

His forehead creases.

“Nice to meet you, Harold,” I say anyway. “I’m Donna.”

I take the black coffee and hand him the sweeter one.

“This is yours now.”

“I was hoping you’d pick that one.”

He glances around the office. “Private investigator, huh?”

I stiffen. I know what people think of private investigators. “That’s what the sign says.”

“You do divorces?”

“Sometimes.”

“Missing people?”

“Yes.”

“Background checks?”

“Yes.”

“Murders?”

I lift the coffee to my mouth.

“Depends on the day.”

Harold studies me, trying to decide whether I am serious.

I let him wonder.

He takes a drink and nods toward Mocha. “Good-looking dog.”

“Don't tell him that. He’s already too cocky.”

Mocha’s tail taps once against the floor.

Harold smiles. “Well, welcome to the building. It’s quiet most days. The dentist down the hall plays music too loud sometimes, and the elevator gets stuck if more than four people are in it.”

“That feels like information the landlord should have shared.”

“He calls it ‘lived in.’”

“Of course he does.”

Harold laughs and heads back toward the hallway.