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I never would’ve found Violet.
    I steered my Toyota into the parking garage and waited for the garage door to close before stepping out of the car. As I headed toward the door to the lobby, I heard footsteps behind me. That sound (parking garage footsteps) always freaked me out thanks to all the movies I’d seen as a child. Living in this depressed end of town didn’t help either.
    Shit.
    I turned around as I reached for the lobby door, and found Violet.
    I smiled past the curiosity of how she had found me (I was listed in all the telephone directories) and accessed the secure parking garage (much more difficult than googling me). “Twice in one day.”
    “You still haven’t called me,” she shot back, her voice echoing. She wore a sexy skirt and heels with studs that looked like teeth on them. And her hair—dark with a hint of purple now—hung past her shoulders in natural, loose waves. “And you promised you would.”
    I produced my iPhone, smiling sheepishly. “I was just about to,” I told her, opening the door once she was close enough.
    “Were you out on a night date, Mr. Carter?” she asked, narrowing her eyes in pretend-jealous slits.
    I laughed, aware that my cheeks had turned a guilty shade of pink. “Not even close.”
    Rolling her greyish-green eyes, she shoved me through the doorway to the cozy little lobby with its upright piano and simple elevator. I hit the up button and we rode it to the third floor in relative silence, staring at each other and grinning like love-struck teens. I reached out and took her fingers with mine, wondering if she would come into the apartment and, if so, what she planned on doing with me next because the fact that she had looked for me somehow meant more than her finding me.
    The elevator doors opened.
    “I’m not going in there,” she said as we stepped into the hallway. She steered the wrong way.
    “I’m this way,” I told her, chuckling because it seemed funny that the magician knew where I lived, but not which unit was mine.
    Shaking her head, she said, “Nah, this isn’t how things work, Mr. Carter. I want a phone call. I want to have a conversation. I want to get to know you, be sure you’re not some kind of crazy psycho.” She frowned, her heavily made-up eyes darkening as she leaned closer and whispered, “You need to call me, Mr. Carter.”
    “Okay.” I produced my phone again and dialed the number I had memorized from the playing card she had given me a couple of weeks ago. When I raised my attention, I saw that Violet was boarding the elevator. She gave a cute wave and a flirty smirk as the elevator doors closed, but I didn’t disconnect the call.
    “Hello?” came her voice through my iPhone. It seemed to echo in the hall.
    “It’s me.” I beamed. “It’s Carter, Mr. Carter.”
    She giggled. “Long time, no see.”
    “You realize you shouldn’t be unaccompanied in this end of town at this time of night. Wait for me in the lobby.”
    “You’re a funny man. With a poor memory.”
    I caught myself frowning. She was wrong. “No, I think it’s got something to do with common sense.” I pressed the down button for the elevator.
    “Common sense is for common people,” she fired back. “I’m a magician.”
    Now it was my turn to the laugh. When the elevator arrived, I stepped on board, but the call disconnected. My phone didn’t like the elevator shaft as much as hers did, so I shoved it into my pocket and willed the ride to speed up.
    In the lobby, I noticed a small party— three couples? At least that, maybe four or five, all drunk and smelling like they had shared a cab on their way here—waiting their turn for the elevator.
    Violet had disappeared.
    I looked around, stepped down the stairs to the street-level doors. Outside the lobby’s glass, I spotted a couple of young men smoking cigarettes and chatting. Opening the door and peeking outside, I asked them, “Have you seen a woman, dark hair and a skirt?”
    The men shook