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

don’t bother nobody. So, now I think I better go check it out. Make sure Mrs. Olsen’s okay.”
    “Sure. So you went upstairs.”
    “Yes. I go to her door and knock. I hear the dog bark and some muffled noises. I don’t know what to think. Maybe she have heart attack. Who knows?”
    “So you let yourself in.”
    “Yes. I use my key and let myself in.”
    “And then?”
    “I barely have time to think. As soon as I open the door, the woman inside was waiting for me.”
    “Okay.”
    “She run me over, like a freight train or something. It was crazy.”
    “A woman ran you over like a freight train. Describe her.”
    “I already told Detective Ortega what she looks like.”
    “Please, Juan. Bear with me.”
    “Okay. Okay. She ran over me so fast. But I got a pretty good look. She was pretty lady.”
    “Pretty? What way?”
    “Pretty hair. Nice business suit. Look like a classy lady to me.”
    “A classy lady?” I said. “Help me, Juan. I need more.”
    “I’m trying my best, Detective.”
    “I know you are. Did she have any unusual features?”
    He looked at me funny, so did Vic.
    “Anything out of the ordinary? Anything…” I couldn’t think of a way to put my question that would make sense, so I just asked, “Did any part of her look inhuman?”
    “Hank?” Vic asked, clearly puzzled.
    “She look like regular lady to me. Like I say, pretty, classy lady.”
    I shook my head. “Look, Juan. You’re a pretty big, fit guy. You’re telling me a pretty, petite, forty-something-year-old white lady in a business suit ran over you like a freight train?”
    He threw up his hands. “She surprised me. I didn’t know she would be there.”
    “I understand. But you said a freight train. She was that strong?”
    “Hank,” Vic cut in. “Take it easy. I think the coffee is ready.”
    I took the hint, stood up and began filling three crummy-looking mugs with coffee. The bottoms were stained and they may not have been washed since the last time they were used.
    Then, Vic said, “Juan, no one is accusing you of anything. We just want information. We’re trying to catch the person who did this.”
    “Exactly,” I said, handing them each a mug filled with black coffee. “No one is implying you did anything wrong. I’m just trying to get a sense of what happened.”
    “I tell you what happened. She caught me off guard. That’s all.” He took a sip of the hot coffee, then a deep breath. “But like I say, she did seem very strong for such a little lady.”
    I nodded, then looked at Vic and sighed, “Strong lady.”
    “Guess so.” Vic agreed.
    Despite being fresh, the coffee tasted like shit, like the beans had been sitting in the dusty cabinet for months and the water was stinky and over-chlorinated. I put the mug down on the countertop and said, “Juan, how about after that? The woman barreled over you and then it’s believed she ran down a staircase.”
    “Yes,” he said as he nodded, then slugged from the mug; he didn’t seem to mind the taste. I guess he was used to it. “I heard the staircase door open and shut. It’s a heavy fire door. Makes a lot of noise when it slams shut. She didn’t take the elevator. I’m sure of it.”
    “Can you show me the staircase?”
    “Sure.”
    We walked back to the lobby. Vic must have put his mug down somewhere while Juan carried his. We took the elevator to the fourth floor. We stepped out into a carpeted hallway, and I looked up and down the corridor.
    Juan walked down the hall then stopped in front of a door. “This is the Olsen’s apartment. The lady, she run this way.” He walked past us then to a door with a well-lit Exit sign above it. “Then she go this way.” He pushed open the door and we followed. “Then, she run down four flights. My first thought was to chase her. But once I got to my feet, I decide to call 911 instead. I didn’t know if Mrs. Olsen was dead or what. She need help. I think at the time it was more important to get her