Free Symphony of Blood, A Hank Mondale Supernatural Case by Adam Pepper Page A

brick building, so Vic parked the car right in front, ignoring the paint stripes identifying the fire lane, and we walked in together.
    “I called ahead. The building super is expecting us,” Vic said while staring at his cell phone.
    “You expecting a call?” I asked.
    “Tate’s doing some paperwork on another case. He’ll be calling soon most likely. He’s getting tired of this one. Thinks we’ve hit a dead end. I’m not so convinced.”
    “Well, let’s find out.”
    We walked up to the front hallway, and Vic buzzed the super. A voice came over the static-filled line heard through a dirty, chrome speaker that was built into the wall.
    “Yes,” the voice said.
    “Mr. Lopez? It’s Detective Ortega. We spoke earlier.” Victor turned and looked at the security camera and waved.
    “Okay. I’m coming down.”
    The door buzzed open and we walked inside. The lobby was fairly modest for this neighborhood, but the building was no dump. It had my place beat, that was for sure. I took a seat on a wood bench. Vic stood.
    As a bell rang and the elevator doors came open, I stood up from the bench. A man walked out: mid-thirties, well built but not especially stocky. Dark hair and dark complexion. Clean shaven. He wore a sky blue work shirt with white pinstripes and the word Juan was written over the breast pocket in red script lettering.
    “Good afternoon, officers.” He spoke with an accent but wasn’t hard to understand.
    “Hi, Mr. Lopez. Good to see you again,” Vic said.
    “You can call me Juan, officer. That’s fine.”
    “Okay, Juan. I’m Victor Ortega. We spoke a few times in the past.”
    “Sure. I remember.”
    “This is Hank Mondale.” Vic paused and Juan and I shook hands. “Hank’s a private investigator. He’s helping me out with the case. Okay?”
    “Anything I can do to help. I’m happy to do. Mrs. Olsen was a very nice lady. But I already told you everything I know. There’s nothing new.”
    “I totally understand. And I’m sorry to inconvenience you. I’m sure you have plenty to do around here.”
    He laughed and his thin upper lip curled. “Just the usual. Keep the building in order. I don’t mind a quick break. I could use a cup of coffee. You fellas want?”
    “Sure,” Vic said.
    “Okay. Come to the office.”
    We walked down a hallway, then stopped at the first door. Juan opened it. Inside was a messy office. There was a desk with papers piled high, a counter with some more papers and junk mail piles, and a coffee maker. There was one cushy chair behind the desk and a few hard, plastic chairs pushed against the wall. Vic and I each sat down on a plastic chair.
    “I’ll make a fresh pot.” Juan began making the coffee.
    “Okay, Juan. Again, I know you’ve been through this, but maybe Hank can spot something that the rest of us missed. Just walk him through what happened.”
    “Well, Mrs. Olsen walked her dog every day two times. Once in the morning, once in the evening. Same routine. That day, she walked her dog, same as always. I was outside taking out the trash and I waved to her as she went by. Nothing special.”
    I took out my notebook but didn’t write anything down.
    Juan looked up at me, then continued. “A little later, her neighbor, Mrs. Younger call me and said there was a loud racket coming from Mrs. Olsen’s room. That I should come quick. At first, I don’t hurry.”
    “No?” I asked, more to let him know I was paying attention than anything else.
    “Mrs. Younger is an old lady. She complain a lot.”
    “About noise?”
    “About noise. About light. About darkness. About pets. You name it. She’s lonely. Husband die long time ago, now she just complains a lot. Not a bad lady but she can get on your nerves from time to time.”
    “I gotcha. We all have neighbors like her.”
    “Right. So at first I don’t think it’s a big deal. But then I get a second call. From Mr. Papadakos. He says he hears noise from Mrs. Olsen’s apartment. Mr. Papadokos