Veil of Crimson

Coincidence Or Obsession?

“Good evening, Detective. Welcome to your new home,” Adrian LeBlanc greets me, smiling in a devilish way. I stare at him with a blank expression on my face, wondering if someone is playing a prank on me. Why do I keep meeting this guy at literally every damn corner of New Orleans?!

I cross my arms against my chest. “Okay, just tell me. What’s your deal? Is there a hidden camera somewhere? Are you going to shout ‘ha, gotcha!’ anytime soon, or what?” I attack him, unable to keep my cool anymore.

I’m going through the shittiest time of my life and this guy just keeps showing up, getting on my nerves and making everything even worse than it already is. He seems confused at my words though. Confused and amused. Oh, would you look at that? It rhymes! This is getting ridiculous. I’m ridiculous.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, unable to keep that charming smile off his face. I now literally have a statistics made of how many women fall for that face, but it’s not working on me. Not even in the slightest.

“Well, I figured you must be some sort of a comedian, shooting an episode where you think it’s funny to mess with a detective. Or is there any other explanation why I keep running into you?” I blurt out so quickly that it’s a wonder he understand a single word.

He leans on the doorframe, his expression suddenly shifting. He’s smirking like he’s being paid for it. He’s enjoying this. Again. Great. Elise, you really need to stop presenting this guy’s entire daily entertainment. “I call it fate, Detective,” he tells me, sending me a wink.

I take a deep breath, trying to come to terms with this, but I can’t. Nope. I’m going back to that hotel room, I don’t care. I’m going to check myself back in. I can deal with whoever got into my room last night. They can’t be as bad as Adrian LeBlanc.

Before I’m able to spin around and disappear without saying a word, I already have his hand clasped around my wrist, pulling me back. “Come on, you can’t keep driving those bags around like a homeless person,” he says, making me freeze.

I’m too shocked to even pull my hand away. “How do you know that I have bags in my car?” I ask, my voice coming out as a little too high-pitched. He tilts his head, his expression shifting to amusement, but I’m not amused. Not at all.

“I saw them at the crime scene yesterday. Your vehicle was the only one that arrived later. I just guessed that you didn’t get them out yet, since you just broke up with someone and are hunting for a place to stay at. Correct?” he says, making me pull my hand away from him.

It all sounds like a wild game of guessing … But he guessed correctly. “That still doesn’t explain how you know my previous landlord,” I keep trying to see reason in this whole matter, but he just shrugs.

“That, I don’t have an explanation for, either. A coincidence, maybe. He did tell me your name, though. That’s why I came here as soon as I could and told him you can come stay the night already,” he explains. I stare at him in defiance. He’s being nice. Why is he being nice?

“Why are you doing this?” I ask, not knowing what to think anymore. He’s a murder suspect. I haven’t ruled him out yet. No matter how unsuspicious he appears in the records. I just know he’s hiding something, and I’m going to get to the bottom of it.

Though … It might be easier to expose him if I become one of his tenants. “Because I realized you might be in need for some help. Not that I’m judging your obviously poor taste in men, but you’ll really have to fix your standards,” he informs me like he’s sharing his opinion on the kind of coffee I drink.

I scoff in response, then push past him to check out the apartment. I look around, taking every corner in. It’s really nice. Nicer than anything I’ve ever lived in. There’s no way he’s giving this away as cheap as fifteen hundred. “I’ll take it. If you stop judging me,” I tell him as I turn my head towards him.

His lips spread into a smile. “It’s a deal, darling. You need help with bringing those bags in?” he wonders. The nickname makes my eye twitch again, but since I’m trying to infiltrate myself into his head and make him open up … Well, how can I refuse?

“If it’s not too much to ask,” I respond, making him put that charming smile on his face again. He straightens up a little and fixes his suit.

“Of course, not, Detective. Anything for my tenants,” he assures me, sending me another wink. My face falls the moment he turns around. Lord help me, so I don’t punch him in that smug face.

As we finish carrying my stuff in, I use the chance to question him again. Unofficially. This isn’t exactly by the books, but I’m hoping he might tell me a little more, if I don’t treat him like a suspect.

“Did you remember anything else about the murder?” I wonder, making him shake his head. He doesn’t seem alerted at all. Either he’s that good of a liar, or he actually didn’t have anything to do with the murder.

“Not a single thing. I’ve told you everything I know. Is there any progress in the investigation?” he wonders, and I shake my head. I put my hands against my hips with the accompany of a sigh.

“No. I’m still waiting on forensics and on traffic cameras,” I explain. He nods in understanding, then claps his hands together. The sound startles me a little, making me flinch. He seems amused again, but doesn’t comment on it.

“Well, I hope you get a breakthrough soon. I’ll leave you be now. Do you need me to park the car for you?” he offers, making me stare at him for a moment. Did he really just ask me that?

“I know how to park my own car, thank you. I’ll be more than happy if you simply show me from which side I have to drive in,” I tell him. He smirks, opening his mouth, probably to make another witty remark about what I just said.

But he changes his mind at sight of my deadly gaze, putting a smile on his face again. “Of course, Detective. I’ll show you and then I’ll get out of your hair. We’ll discuss the details of the contract tomorrow, just as promised,” he assures me.

I trail after him cautiously, still not knowing what to think of him. I sit in my car, expecting him to walk me to the parking spot. You can imagine my surprise as he hops in and sits into the passenger seat, making me turn my head towards him in shock.

As he notices the police radio, his fingers clearly start itching him. “Ooh, is that what I think it is?” he asks with the enthusiasm of a toddler on Christmas day. I slap his fingers away before they manage to touch the device.

He sends me an offended look, but I don’t care. He has no business sticking around my car. I actually didn’t allow him to sit in it either, but it’s not like I can catapult him out of it now.