Bronson stopped at the bottom of the steps. He turned around and looked up at Kathern as she walked down to meet him.
He reached into his trouser pocket. He pulled out a silver keyring and a white plastic access card. He held them out in the space between them.
"Maplewood Complex," Bronson said, his voice devoid of warmth. "Building B, Apartment 802. It's on the edge of Queens."
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a leather wallet. He extracted a silver credit card and held it out next to the keys.
"This is a secondary card," Bronson stated. "Use it for the household expenses."
Kathern looked at the piece of plastic. Her eyebrows pulled together. She kept her hands firmly at her sides.
"We can split the living expenses fifty-fifty," Kathern said, looking directly into his eyes. "I don't need your card."
Bronson's arm froze in mid-air. A flash of genuine surprise broke through his cold exterior, quickly replaced by a thicker layer of guarded suspicion.
He let out a short, harsh breath through his nose. He pulled the credit card back and shoved it into his wallet.
"Suit yourself," Bronson said. "Just don't cause any trouble."
Kathern reached out and took the keys and the access card from his hand. She unzipped the small front pocket of her backpack and carefully dropped them inside.
Bronson lifted his left arm and stared at his watch.
"I have an important business meeting back at the company," Bronson said, dropping his arm. "Do not tell anyone about this marriage. Especially not anyone from my office."
Kathern rolled her eyes. As if she would ever meet a single person from his boring corporate job. But she nodded her head anyway.
Bronson didn't waste another second. He turned on his heel and walked straight to the rusted Ford van.
Kathern stood on the sidewalk. She watched him pull the heavy door open and slide roughly into the driver's seat.
The van's engine roared to life with a violent shudder. A thick cloud of dark exhaust shot out from the tailpipe as the van sped away from the curb.
The smoke hit Kathern's face. She coughed twice, waving her hand rapidly in front of her nose to clear the foul air.
She walked back to her mint green scooter. She put her helmet on, started the engine, and merged into the traffic.
She followed the street signs, riding across the city until she reached the address Bronson had given her. The Maplewood Complex was a standard, slightly worn residential area.
Kathern parked her scooter in the designated area. She swiped the white card against the scanner at Building B and walked into the elevator.
She pressed the button for the eighth floor. The doors opened. She walked down the hallway and found the door marked 802. She slid the key into the lock and turned it.
The lock clicked loudly. Kathern pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The air inside the apartment was completely dead. It smelled like stale dust and closed windows. Tiny particles of dirt floated visibly in the shafts of sunlight cutting through the blinds.
Kathern looked around. It was a standard two-bedroom apartment. The layout was decent, but the living room was completely barren except for two cheap sofas and a glass coffee table.
She walked into the master bedroom. A massive, unmade bed sat in the center of the room. There was no wardrobe. No nightstands.
She walked back out and pushed the door to the guest room open. It was completely empty. Just bare wooden floorboards.
Kathern walked into the kitchen. She pulled the cabinet doors open one by one. Nothing. Not a single plate, fork, or glass.
Kathern let out a long, heavy sigh. Her shoulders slumped. The man had literally just bought a concrete box to shut his grandmother up.
She dropped her backpack onto the kitchen counter. She rolled up the sleeves of her shirt, walked over to the living room window, and pushed the glass pane up as hard as she could. The fresh breeze rushed in.
She looked down at the layer of grime on the floorboards. She needed to go back to Gussie's house to get her large suitcase and buy a massive amount of cleaning supplies.
