Dead Hunt

glad you do,’’ she said and let a laugh es- cape her lips. ‘‘I love you too.’’ Diane didn’t remember if she had ever told him that. She thought she had, but she certainly picked a strange time to say it now. She flipped her phone closed.
The room was still silent, and Diane started to tell her landlady why she had come to her door when her downstairs neighbor spoke up.
‘‘We might as well say it in front of her. She brings just too much violence to the building. We all had to leave our homes just a few months ago.’’
Leslie jumped in with a huff. ‘‘That wasn’t her fault—she had nothing to do with the explosion.’’
Ramona, the downstairs neighbor, sniffed. ‘‘She had something to do with it.’’
‘‘She was identifying the victims,’’ said Leslie’s husband. ‘‘You might as well blame us because we were there serving coffee. Jeez.’’
‘‘Well, there were other times. Many other times,’’ Ramona said.
‘‘She kept a cat,’’ said Veda Odell. ‘‘Marvin’s allergic.’’
Her landlady sighed. ‘‘Veda, no she didn’t. That was me. I was just keeping him temporarily until I found him a home.’’
Veda looked at her, stunned. ‘‘You? You know Marvin’s allergic.’’
Diane was thinking, were she to vote, she would vote to get out of here too. Most of her neighbors were nuts. But she had to admit, there had been many occasions when something bad had happened at her apartment that needed police attention. It wasn’t Diane’s fault. It had kind of come with her position at the crime lab, but she was sure it had scared the neighbors more than once. She didn’t really blame them.
Diane turned to the landlady. ‘‘I came to tell you that the crime scene cleanup crew will be here tomorrow. They will sanitize everything.’’
‘‘Oh, that’s good. I was wondering what to do,’’ she said.
‘‘You don’t have to do anything. I’ll take care of it,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Diane. I really hate this,’’ said the landlady.
‘‘It’s all right,’’ said Diane. ‘‘It’s nice that all of you could meet and get to know each other.’’
‘‘It is, isn’t it?’’ said the landlady. ‘‘This could be a party at a happier time. That boy in 1-D is the only one who didn’t come. He must be gone.’’
‘‘I don’t know him,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Isn’t he new?’’
‘‘Yes, he is. Just moved in about a month ago. Bobby Banks is his name.’’

Chapter 35
    ‘‘Bobby Banks,’’ said Diane. ‘‘What does he look like?’’
    ‘‘Nice-looking boy. He has sort of wavy blond hair, pretty eyes a kind of blue-green color. He has the nicest complexion you’ve ever seen.’’
    All their eyes were on Diane when she fished her cell phone out of her jacket pocket. She dialed David.
‘‘Hey, Diane, what’s up?’’ he said.
‘‘Get hold of Garnett and tell him to get a warrant for my apartment building, apartment 1-D,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Bobby Banks has been living there.’’
‘‘At your apartment building? Now, that’s creepy,’’ said David. ‘‘For how long?’’
‘‘About a month. Can you and Neva take the scene?’’
‘‘Sure. Damn, I probably interviewed him that night. Everyone was home in your building,’’ said David.
Her neighbors were muttering to one another when Diane got off the phone. She slipped it back in her pocket and turned to address them. They all looked rather stunned. She could imagine they were. Things just kept happening too close to their home.
‘‘Why did you do that?’’ asked her landlady. ‘‘What’s wrong?’’ The fear in her dark blue eyes made Diane feel guilty.
‘‘It’s all right,’’ said Diane, although she knew it sounded rather stupid under the circumstances.
‘‘I demand to know what’s going on,’’ said Ramona.
‘‘It’s all right,’’ she said again, and it still sounded idiotic. ‘‘He is just someone the police want to speak with.’’
‘‘About what?’’ said Ramona. ‘‘You tell us what this is about. We have a right to know. What are you into?’’
‘‘My job,’’ said Diane.
‘‘I have connections in the police department,’’ said Loyal, her husband. ‘‘They say some escaped convict died in your apartment. It wasn’t in the papers because of who you are,’’ he said.
‘‘Your contact is not keeping up with current events,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Chief Garnett will be here shortly and will probably want to ask