Page 29 of Deadly Sins: Envy
“Figures,” he said. “This is the exact reason Dale and I don’t get along. Willow needs to make her own way in life. If my father knew, he wouldn’t approve. He doesn’t stand for this kind of thing. I don’t either.”
“I need to talk to him,” I said.
“I’ll talk to him. Leave it to me. Where are you headed next?”
“I’m going to find Alex Marshall.”
CHAPTER 13
I arrived at Goldstein and Associates and found a white piece of paper stuck to the door. Written in thin, black marker was a note which read:Please visit us at 1211 Rio Renauld Street. Sorry for the inconvenience.
I made my way to the second location, parked, and checked the address, thinking I’d scribbled it down wrong. It was hard to believe an aspiring artist of any kind would feel confident about working with this management group after visiting their dilapidated office building.
I entered the office and noticed the main room had been divided into four cubicles containing cheap wooden desks and guest chairs covered in tattered fabric.
The office door closed behind me, and a string of bells hanging off of the handle jangled, announcing my presence. A man in his mid-thirties poked his head around the side of one of the cubicles and said, “Hey, what’s up?”
“Hey,” I said. “I’m looking for Alex Marshall. Does he work at this office?”
“Ahh ... he’s not here.”
“When will he be back?”
“What do you need? Maybe I can help.”
“Are you Kit Goldstein?” I asked.
“Nope.”
“Is Kit Goldstein here?”
The man used a pencil to point at a closed office door, and then he disappeared behind the cubicle again.
I walked to where he’d indicated and knocked.
A male voice on the opposite side said, “What is it? I’m busy.”
“So am I,” I said.
Seconds later the door opened, and a man waved me inside.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know we had any appointments today. Come on in.”
Kit had a crisper appearance than I expected—a blue, button-up shirt and black slacks. He was slender, a few inches shorter than I was, and somewhere in his late fifties, I guessed. I was almost one hundred percent certain the dark hair on his head wasn’t hair at all and instead was a stylish, coiffed wig.
He stuck a hand toward me. “I’m Kit Goldstein.”
“Sloane,” I said.
“Sorry about the ehh ... office. It’s temporary and about all I could find on short notice. We had some flooding damage at the other place, and we’re operating out of this dump for the next month. I’ve been trying not to see anyone here because it’s so ... well, you’ve seen it. What can I do for you?”
“I’m working with Willow Cooper’s family. She’s the woman who was kidnapped a couple nights ago.”
“Ahh, yes.” He gestured toward a chair and said, “Why don’t you sit down?”
I glanced at the stains on the chair and considered refusing his offer, but when he sat, I decided it was polite to do the same.
“I read about the kidnapping in the paper,” he said. “I feel bad for all the family’s going through right now. Any news yet?”