Page 44 of Jared

“Yeah, they bring clean diapers and take away the dirty ones to wash them.”

Steve looked horrified. “You mean cloth diapers?”

“Yes. Eco-friendly and these days, they have ones that go on just like a disposable. All in one things you velcro on our that close with snaps. And you use liners that you can flush down the toilet so no poop in the house to smell.”

Steve looked at him doubtfully. “Okay, but if they stink the apartment up, we can swap to the other kind, right?”

“If they stink after you flush away the poop, imagine how much a poopy paper diaper will smell.”

Steve turned green. “Yeah, okay.” He picked his phone back up. “Wow, there's quite a few of these companies around. Top result shows nearly five full stars and is in our borough. Tidy Didee. Says choice of bamboo, microfibre, or unbleached cotton. Second top listing is for Totty Botty. Where the hell do people come up with these names? Anyways, here's the results. Tidy Didee has the most reviews though, and been around longer according to the listing.”

“Okay, can you email me those links? I'll read the reviews later and check their prices out, 'cause here's our food.” Jared turned his smile onto the waitress who had approached with a tray bearing the lunches.

18

Steve looked around his apartment. His usually neat home was in chaos. His coffee table was littered with invitation samples, brochures, and what looked like small party favors. Through the open doorway, he could see shopping bags heaped upon the bed and brown cardboard boxes containing flat pack furniture that needed putting together. A small mattress leaned against a wall, another, smaller, mattress wrapped in plastic leaning against it.

So much stuff, so little time. I don't even know where to start.

His phone chirped. Glancing at it, he frowned as he saw Tim was texting him. Those guys are back, huh? He hurriedly texted back that he was coming down to the lobby. The chaos would have to wait. Besides, I'll be okay with whatever his mom and Jared like best. As long as I don't have to wear some bell bottomed suit with wide lapels, in powder blue, I'll be happy. The rest is just window dressing.

“What's up?” he asked Tim as he exited the elevator.

Tim nodded towards the street. “Those guys are back. The detective types. They don't seem to care that we know they are there, either. Just keep watching the building.”

Steve frowned. “I'll be right back.” He strode towards the entrance.

“Where are you going?” Tim hissed at him, catching up to him and grasping him by the arm.

“I'm going to go get my coffee and pastry, that's what,” he said, feigning innocence.

“Like hell,” Tim answered, dropping Steve's arm anyway. “In that case, I'll go with you to get some too.”

The pair strolled nonchalantly towards the unmarked car, then Steve stopped, tapped on the window, and after it was rolled down, casually asked, “Would you gentleman care for coffee as well? We were just going to grab some.”

R.W. flushed. “No thank you,” he replied.

“Shit,” James swore under his breath. “I told you this was a bad idea.”

The man asking if they wanted coffee arched an eyebrow. “For cops, you guys sure are obvious.”

“FBI actually,” R.W. blustered, reaching into his jacket for his identification.

“Let's just go. Sorry if we bothered you,” James said, reaching for the ignition key.

“And what can we do to help you fine fellows?”

James dropped his hand.

“Just following some leads. We're investigating a series of assaults at area nightclubs and believe a guy who's moved here may know something. Maybe he saw something and didn't know it.”

The man stiffened. “Rapes?”

“Ah crap,” The man behind him said softly. James felt for him. He could relate. He didn't like this either and wished he was anywhere but here.

“Look, come with us to the coffee shop, okay? It's just a couple of blocks over. We might be able to help you.”

R.W. nodded and rolled up his window. “C'mon. Maybe they do know something. Or maybe we'll find out what's hinky in there,” he said thrusting his chin to indicate the apartment building.