Hallow Springs

Twenty-six

I was surprised to see an apartment that had an order to everything. It was clean and organized, which didn't fit the persona that had been painted for me. I had expected Ansel Mason's apartment to resemble a college dorm with ash trays and bongs laying around and crusted Ramen caked to old plastic bowls but it wasn't. No, it was something straight out of a catalog. I was honestly jealous – my apartment back in Charlotte looked like a crack den compared to this. 

Shit... He wasn't expecting me either. This is just what his apartment happens to look like today.

He pulled the hairband out of his pony tail letting his light brown hair curl behind his ear. His smile grew warmer and I realized that he was incredibly out of place downstairs. The apartment was hardwood with a blue shag carpet under the coffee table. The remote controls were nicely lined up atop a stack of catalogs. His bookshelves were crammed with a variety of text books, ranging from Austrian Economics to the Federalist Papers. Judging by the crease in their spines, he had either bought used or he had read them all. The only imperfection was a piece of cardboard taped over a section of the window leading out to his fire escape.

Ansel showed me to a seat on the couch and he found his across from me in a cornflower blue winged back armchair. He leaned forward, keeping his warm gaze on me. I was still adjusting to my surroundings and to the notion that this guy was a person of interest and had a charge of possession with the intent to distribute drugs.

"Expected something different?" he asked, seemingly reading my mind.

"To be honest, yeah."

"I get that a lot." He lowered his head, letting his locks dangle.

"I heard you had some charges brought against you recently." He perked up upon hearing this.

"That's right. It was really an unfortunate situation. I had some pot on me, I like to smoke every once in a while like anyone else. But they found it in my car... at the middle school. So, your ex-husband had a field day with that one." This was confirmation that he knew me. The problem about being a local celebrity is that I didn't know how much he knew about me. For some reason, it felt like he knew more than just the story of Suzie's death.

"And you got off on a technicality?"

"Yeah! Thank God!" He was owning it – a strange reaction for a guilty party. I didn't know how to respond, so I just sat there and continued to look over his apartment. "... but enough about me. What can I help you with Detective?"

I inhaled a lungful and began my spiel.

"As you probably know, I am here investigating the disappearance of Jeremy Wilson. Do you know Jeremy?"

"I don't have to tell you Ms. Graves, it's a small town. Everyone knows everyone, but then again, no one knows anyone."

For some reason, him saying this made me think he may be just the misunderstood newcomer to the town that no one gave a chance to get to know. He had an interesting perspective on the town – one that was unbiased and unfiltered. It was one that we shared. I had mine because I didn't live in Hallow Springs anymore, Ansel had his because he didn't grow up here.

"I haven't heard anything if that is what you're asking," he said it so casually, as if I were his friend and he was my long-time informant – almost as if he was an undercover cop for us downstairs, eavesdropping on any trouble brewing.

"We have tracked his cell phone to within one hundred feet of that alley." I pointed out the window to the fire escape that led down into the alley. "It was last pinged two nights ago. What were you doing on Tuesday?"

"I was working downstairs as I do every night. Someone actually broke into my apartment that night."

"Really?" I leaned forward.