The next morning, Clay was in the middle of working on his newest painting when his phone rang. He almost ignored it, as usual, until he remembered the detective was going to call. After checking the Caller ID, which came up with Denver Police Department, he answered.
“Clay, it’s Quint Hawk. Are you available at the moment?”
“If you mean am I going to be here for a while, then yes. Just buzz when you get here.”
“That should be in about twenty minutes. I’ll see you then.”
The detective was true to his word. Twenty minutes later Clay heard the buzzer, and after checking to make certain it was him, Clay let Quint in.
“Nice place,” Quint commented, looking around. “Have you lived here long?”
“Since I was twenty-five, when they converted the building to lofts.”
“That would be what…seven
