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“Not really.”
I find that surprising, considering how outgoing Ingrid seems to be. The likely scenario is that Ingrid didn’t think Dylan was worth the effort. He’s clearly not a fan of small talk. Waiting for the elevator, he stands with his right leg bent at the knee, flexing slightly, like a runner preparing to sprint.
“Not at all? You were neighbors. You never hung out?”
“If saying hi to each other in the elevator means hanging out, then, sure, we hung out. Otherwise, no. Why do you want to know?”
“Because she moved out and I’m trying to reach her.”
Dylan’s eyes go even wider.
“Ingrid’s gone? Since when?”
“Sometime last night,” I say. “I was hoping she might have told you she was planning to leave.”
“Like I said, we didn’t talk that much. She was basically a stranger.”
“Then why do you seem so surprised?”
“Because she just got here. I thought she’d have stayed longer.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Two months,” Dylan says. “Are we about done with the questions? There’s somewhere I need to be.”
Rather than wait for the elevator, which is in use several floors below, Dylan opts for the stairs. He’s either very late for something or extremely eager to be rid of me.
I call after him. “Just one more thing.”
Dylan pauses on the landing between the tenth and eleventh floors, looking up at me with his head askance.
“Did you hear any strange noises last night?” I say. “From Ingrid’s apartment?”
“Last night?” he says. “No, sorry. Can’t help you there.”
Then he’s off again, speeding around the landing and down more steps before I can ask him another question. I use the stairs as well, slower than Dylan, going up instead of down.
A few floors below me, the elevator grate slides shut with a clang. The sound rockets up the stairwell, startling me. To my right, the cables in the center of the stairwell tighten and the elevator begins to rise. When it comes into view, I see Nick inside, a stethoscope draped around his neck. Seeing me through the elevator window, he gives a friendly wave. I wave back and hurry up the remaining steps to the twelfth floor, which we reach in unison.
“Hey there, neighbor,” Nick says as he leaves the elevator. “How’s the arm?”
“It’s great. Thanks for, you know, fixing it.”
I cringe at my tone. Could I be any more awkward? I blame Nick’s whole handsome-doctor vibe, which is intimidating. I suspect the wine I had at Greta’s is also at fault. It’s caught up to me now, making me a little dizzy.
“Making a house call?” I say, gesturing to the stethoscope.
“Yes, unfortunately. Mr. Leonard was having heart palpitations. He swore the big one was coming.”
“Is he okay?”
“I hope so,” Nick says. “That’s not really my specialty. I made him take an aspirin and told him to call 911 if it gets any worse. Knowinghim, he won’t. Mr. Leonard’s a stubborn one. And where are you coming from?”
“The tenth floor.”
“Making friends with the neighbors?”
I hesitate, unsure how much I should tell him. “Is that against the rules?”