Intimate Relations, Rebecca Forster [best ereader for manga .txt] 📗

I was a little over enthusiastic for them," Mitzie said. "I also think they were a little embarrassed by the turn their work has taken. It was hard to tell with them. Then again, maybe they just got too busy. They were already making good money, but six months ago they got a huge commission. Emi told me they signed a nondisclosure."

"That's interesting. Do you know the specifics?" Finn asked.

"I love to know everything about everything, but I couldn't drag it out of her. She wasn't happy that I tried. It must have come with a nice payday because Emi got a high-end 3-D printer. Those things aren't cheap. And the furniture..." Mitzie rolled her eyes in mock envy. "Boco do Lobo and Fendi. My man made good money, but he would have had to work another lifetime to afford things like that. Emi let me in to see it, but it was obvious Enver wasn't happy. That was very unusual. Could be they were having some personal problems. Personally, I think he didn't want anyone around here to know how well he was doing. God knows. Relationships are weird, aren't they?"

Mitzie took a drink of her coffee and considered the question.

"You're preaching to the choir, Mitzie," Finn said. "Do you think there is a reason to fear someone here might rob him? Perhaps that's why he didn't want anyone inside."

"Well he sure isn't afraid of me, and he wasn't happy I was there."

Mitzie's tiny body rocked backwards and forwards again when she laughed. That smile of hers faded fast when she saw Finn's expression.

"You're serious? Well, that's an easy one. Nobody wanted his money or his things. Artists want recognition, they dream of fame.  If Enver hit the mother lode either the people around here would want to know how he did it..."

"Or?"

"Or they would want an intro to his patron or the gallery that picked him up. Enver was pretty open before all this, but he withdrew of late. Even when I saw him out walking he looked edgy. Distracted."

"Did you ever see him angry or violent?" Finn asked.

Mitzie shook her head.

"Emi wasn't bruised, if that's what you mean. Then again, how would any of us know what goes on in these places?  The walls are so thick you can't hear anything much less someone getting beat up."

Finn knew that to be true and sadly had no time for gossip. The day was getting on.

"Well thank you, Mitzie. I best be on my way."

Finn got up and started to take his mug into the kitchen, but Mitzie popped up and took it from him.

"Don't you dare," Mitzie said. "Artist though I may be, my generation didn't let men do the dishes."

"You're a treasure, missus," Finn said.

"Yeah, that's what my guy used to tell me. It's nice to hear it again." She saw him to the door, pausing before he left. "I am sorry about that crack. I feel for the person who died,  I'm sorry for whoever killed her, but I don't think it could be Enver. I'm praying it's someone outside this community. These are good people despite the fact that some of them are kind of wacky."

"I hope you're right." Finn handed her a card. "But if you hear anything, even if it seems of no consequence, you call me."

"Sure will," Mitzie said. "And you remember where I live. Coffee is always on."

Before Mitzie closed the door, Finn took a step back to ask:

"Do either of them have any good friends here? Or did you see people from the outside going in and out on a regular basis?"

"I saw a young woman visitor over that way once or twice, but she could have been going to the places near the back fence. I remember it being in my consciousness that she was going into the Cucas’. You know how that can be?" She pulled a face. "I'd make a terrible witness."

"You're doing fine," Finn said. "Did you ever see her with anyone else?"

"No," Mitzie said.

"And her car?" Finn asked.

"If she came by car she would park in the lot. No cars allowed in the quads unless you're loading or unloading something," Mitzie said. "Now and again I saw men go into the Cucas’ unit. Clients I suppose. I didn't really see those guys more than once."

"Can you describe the girl?"

"She was young and white. Petite. Long hair. That's about it."

"Can you take a guess how often you saw her?"

"Really, I can't say." Mitzie shrugged her apology. "Regular around here is seeing somebody from the outside more than once. She could have been modeling for Enver. You know Enver and Emi take commissions right?"

"So if a gentleman wanted a doll to look like his girlfriend or his wife—"

"Which would be redundant, wouldn't it?" Mitzie laughed. "More likely he would have commissioned the woman of his dreams. If he traveled he could keep her at his apartment in Paris, away from the respectable ladies in his life. If you've got enough money you can hire a super model to pose, have Enver do his thing, and take her home forever and ever. She'd never get old. Imagine that."

"'Tis a thought," Finn said. "Though none I would ever have."

"Even if you had that kind of money, I doubt you'd throw it away on one of those things. I bet you'd have better things to do with your hard earned dollars."

"I doubt I'll ever have that problem," Finn said.

Mitzie smiled, and Finn did too. Both knew money was not the root of all evil;  it was the root of dissatisfaction, arrogance, and boredom. Once anything could be bought, nothing had value. With one of Enver's dolls a man could have the perfect woman, but never have to wonder if she loved him for his money or himself. There was no real intimacy in that, only an odd sort of insanity.

Finn took his leave, walking only as far as the end of Mitzie's building. The morning had turned to