Free Monahan 02 Artificial Intentions by Rosemarie A D'Amico Page A

door and to the marble-encased reception desk where an elderly gentleman sat. His uniform looked like something right out of the Wizard of Oz, with all sorts of gold braid and tassels. I suppressed a school-girl giggle.
    He stood up as we approached and a wide smile crossed his face when he recognized Lou. The name tag on the breast of his jacket read “Ted”. After Lou had introduced us and Ted had expressed his condolences, I made my way to the elevator, alone. Both had offered to accompany me, but I had declined their offer.
    I stepped off the elevator into a small foyer where the door to the apartment faced the elevator. Ted had told me the apartment was on the 14th floor and when I asked the number of the apartment, he had told me the whole of the 14th floor. I had tried not to look too surprised.
    The lock was well-oiled and the door opened quietly. I entered the dark apartment and closed the door behind me. Silence surrounded me and I stood in the dark for a few moments while my eyes adjusted. My hand found a panel of light switches on the wall beside the door and I flicked them randomly. Pot lights came on over my head and I swiveled in a one hundred and eighty degree turn to take in the surroundings. The entrance-way was massive, by my standards anyway, and probably measured thirty feet by thirty feet. The floor was tiled in a dark green marble and the walls stretched upwards to about fifteen feet. The area was painted in a neutral earth tone and a few small pieces of art were hung randomly.
    I crossed the lobby floor and entered the apartment. My random flicking of the light switches had turned on several table lamps and a quick look to the right and left took my breath away. There were no walls and the long room appeared to be the size of a football field. I stood rooted to the spot and peered about in the soft light. To the left was the living area and straight ahead of me was a long, highly polished dining table. I quickly counted twelve chairs around it and shook my head in amazement. Everything looked like it was out of Better Homes and Gardens . The furniture in my apartment can best be described as early-American, hotel lobby.
    I ventured from my spot into the living area and wandered around several groupings of sofas and easy chairs. The outside walls were not walls, they were windows. Floor to ceiling, all around the room. At the center of the windows there were French doors which opened onto a terrace overlooking the street and Central Park. Wrought-iron furniture filled the balcony.
    I turned and looked to the far end of the room, past the dining area where I could see a large desk with a computer and several wing-back chairs. I quickly crossed the yards and yards of plush carpet to Tommy’s desk, eager now to discover some answers. Answers to what Tommy had done in his last hours. I sat in the large leather chair at his desk and looked around. The desk was neat but not overly pristine like the rest of the apartment. This was a working area and Tommy’s presence was obvious. A waft of his after-shave hit my nostrils and I felt him nearby.
    I sat for a moment trying to remember the brand of his after-shave, which I had never smelled on anyone else. It brought back some sweet memories and a smile played across my face.
    And then I heard a door close. The noise took a few seconds to register because where I lived in my apartment in Toronto, the sound of closing doors was a regular sound, one you became used to hearing. This sound though was a quiet one, and I remembered that I had the whole floor of the building to myself, so I shouldn’t be hearing doors closing. Fear shot up my back and my shoulders clenched. My eyes darted around the room and I slowly got out of the chair. There was a door in the wall to my left and I was sure the sound had come from somewhere behind that door.
    I tentatively pushed on the door and it swung open into an eating area with a large kitchen behind it. Both rooms were dark