Chapter Thirty-Three
As if I have entered a time machine, I step off Holt’s jet only to end up in a small, exclusive elevator a few hours later. The ornate box whizzes us upward to a penthouse apartment in the sky.
But this apartment is nothing like the one in New Haven. Starting with the view. A river sparkles below with the reflection of neon lights from the cityscape.
Holt’s Little Rock penthouse is understated. The living space is huge, but the walls are smooth and eggshell white without any art deco detailing or even a hint of crown molding. The dark wood floors are tastefully covered by silver-toned rugs only a few shades lighter than the modern slate gray furniture distributed throughout the front room. Also, this apartment doesn’t smell like a beer distillery and a weed dispensa
