“Did you expect one? And if there was, would you want to get into it?”

Warren pursed his lips. “Point taken.”

The two men climbed the steps, at the top of the third landing they turned to the right—the only way to go—and followed the numbers to the correct apartment. Gavin knocked.

“It doesn’t smell much better up here.” Warren dipped his nose into his scarf. “In fact, it might be worse.”

“Jesus, people must be pissing in the hallway.” Gavin buried his nose in his coat.

“Depending on how stoned you are, it might be hard to make it to a toilet, I guess.”

They only had to knock once, thankfully, before the door opened. Gavin was taken aback. Perry Logan appeared healthier and far more clean-cut than Gavin would have expected. He was about six feet tall and clean-shaven with longish, well groomed, light brown hair. He wore khakis and a short-sleeved blue polo that read “Best Buy.” Gavin introduced himself and Warren. Perry invited them in and they took a seat at his kitchen table.

Gavin noted that there were no dishes in the sink and the room was organized. A working man, who didn’t live like a slob, but lives here. It led to Gavin’s first question. “Interesting choice of a place to live.” His voice upbeat, and a pleasant smile was on his face when he asked. Act engaged and non-threatening, positive and not negative; don’t put Perry on the defensive. That would be Warren’s job. The interrogation technique had worked well for them in the past. Build Perry’s trust and then go at him when he’s least expecting it. Easiest way to get someone to crack; don’t let them see the sledgehammer coming.

Perry smirked. Gavin guessed Perry was well aware that he lived in a shitty apartment in an even shittier building. “This is where the music scene is. I work in retail to pay the rent, but the networking in this area is great for my band. I can’t afford any of the other buildings.” Perry shook his head. “Rent prices here have gone crazy.”

“Isn’t that a fact.” Be agreeable. Gain trust. But Gavin didn’t need to pretend on this one. Perry was telling the sad truth. Rent on some of the new lofts was far more than he himself could’ve afforded. “What’s the name of your band?” Gavin asked with interest and a continual smile that Perry seemed to buy.

“The Lords of Mercy. We’re alternative. Two albums are available for download and our third will be out next month. We have a pretty decent following,” Perry said, proud.

“I’ll have to check those out.” Gavin tilted his head in an appraising, yet amused way. “You don’t look very alternative.”

“Come and see me about eleven tonight.” Perry smiled. “Things will be different.”